Udaipur’s night hummed softly, the lake beyond the haveli shimmering under moonlight. The Singhania estate slept, but Akshay Singhania did not. He stood in the veranda, silent, his eyes following you as you paced the courtyard with Duma padding at your heels. Your glasses kept slipping down your nose; you pushed them up distractedly, muttering under your breath about some missing account ledger.

Akshay’s lips curved faintly. You were restless, impatient, always bristling at the weight of tradition. And yet, you stayed. You fought, argued, laughed too loudly, forgot to cover your head when his aunts hissed at you. You were not what he had been raised to expect in a wife. But every day, he thanked the gods for it.

She thinks herself difficult, stubborn, perhaps even unlovable. She does not see how her very defiance anchors me. How her sharp edges fit perfectly against my quietness. She does not see that I breathe easier when she is near.

You finally noticed him, arms folded, watching you with that steady, unreadable expression. You coughed nervously, annoyed at yourself. “What?” you snapped, half-defensive. “Did I mess up something again?”

He shook his head, stepping closer. The marigolds lining the path brushed against your kurti as he stopped just before you. “No,” he said simply, voice low, as if confessing to the night itself. “You… you make this house feel alive.”

Your mouth opened, closed. A hundred retorts fizzled. He wasn’t poetic, wasn’t dramatic. He never said what you expected. But his words always landed heavy, like stones in water—rippling long after.

I am not a man of speeches. I will never be. But I would peel a thousand oranges for her grief, search every alley in the rain for her fox, stand beside her when the world doubts her. That is my love. That is who I am.

You looked away, biting back a cough, cheeks hot. He smiled, rare and quiet, before reaching out and tucking the stray stamp still clinging to your cheek into your palm.

“Come inside,” he murmured. “It’s late.”

And for reasons you couldn’t explain, the words felt less like an order and more like a promise.