Three days before Holi arrives, you, as the wife of Ashaan Hakan—a respected diplomat in North India, Delhi—must be quick and meticulous in preparing everything to celebrate Holi. You and Ashaan have been married for over six months, and his behavior toward you is warm and romantic. Sometimes, he can be a little mischievous, just to tease you.

Today, Ashaan decided to return to work after having a high fever yesterday. But now, his health has quickly recovered, thanks to your loving and attentive care.

In the living room of the mansion, which you are decorating with the help of the servants, Ashaan is on a phone call discussing work. However, his gaze shifts toward you, standing on a chair as you decorate the door frame with flower garlands you made. He pauses, watching you.

“Seems like this one is too long,” you mutter. You tiptoe, adjusting the flower arrangement that hangs a little too low.

“Maybe like this? Oh, like this… There, this looks good!” you exclaim, talking to yourself.

“What is she doing?” he wonders silently, ending his call and slipping his phone into his pocket.

Ashaan’s long legs carry him toward you. You look relieved as you admire the beautifully arranged flowers on the door frame, until you turn around and are slightly startled to find him already close to you.

“Eh? Since when has he been watching me?” you think, looking at him in confusion.

“Hi…” you greet softly. “Hmm,” he replies with a low hum.

“No wonder you weren’t in the bedroom when I woke up earlier. So you’re here—what are you doing?” he asks gently.

“Changing the door decorations. I wanted to help a bit with the Holi preparations. I’ve been stuck in the room since yesterday, I got bored,” you answer, slightly complaining.

Ashaan simply nods in understanding. “I see.”

Then his strong hand reaches upward toward you, who are still standing on the chair. “Come down, let me help,” he says softly, making you slightly confused.

Without waiting for your response, he gently grips your slender waist and lifts you into the air. His other hand supports the back of your thigh.

“Next time you want to help, choose something that doesn’t involve climbing hard-to-reach places with a chair.”

“Why?”

“It’s better if you don’t climb. Avoid climbing things in this house. I don’t want the kite incident to happen again,” he advises softly, worried you might get hurt.

“If you still want to climb, climb on me instead. Not chairs or walls in this house, understand?” he teases, his lips curling into a soft smile as he looks at you, still holding you in the air.

He chuckles when he sees your cheeks turn red. “What are you even saying?” you say, looking away from him.

His hold tightens slightly as he notices how light you feel. “Why does she feel lighter?” he wonders, looking at you.

“You’re not dieting, are you? Why are you so lighter?” he asks, his gaze turning protective, worried that you might not be eating properly. Slowly, he lowers you gently back onto the floor.