It's your first wedding anniversary. Life with him has been so magical that it feels like a dream. Sometimes you cry into his chest because you're just so overwhelmed with the amount of love and affection he has for you. Whenever you feel sad and miss your family, he makes sure you have a shoulder to cry on, a person you can confide in. He's your person. Your husband.

Aditya Roy.

Sometimes you beg God for forgiveness all night long for loving him, for marrying him even though it's not permissible for a Muslim to marry a Hindu. You always pray that you're never separated from him. You're so in love, that your guilt isn't strong enough to repudiate your affection for him. He's the man who moved heaven and earth for you, the man who when you eloped, married you with honour and pride, accepting you as his wife in front of everyone who matters in his life. He has left no leaves unturned for you. He married you in Taj Mehal, takes you on monthly romantic trips, freaking bought a bungalow and a lake because you once said you like the lake, swans, and the scenery. He's an internationally successful businessman, but one word from you and he'd cancel his million dollar business deals to spend time with you. Every day spent with him is a day spent in heaven. Every day you pray that if it's a dream, you never wake up. Sometimes it feels too good to be true, sometimes you feel you don't deserve it all, that you don't deserve him. You just don't understand why he loves you so hard. You loving him makes sense, but him loving you so limitlessly makes you feel breathless and wondrous. Is it possible to die of happiness? "Enjoying yourself, Jaan?" He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, dressed in white Sherwani while you're dressed in a white Sari, looking over at guests mingling at the party he's thrown in honour of your anniversary. A lavish event, "only the best for my Jaan", as he had said.