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Author's POV

It was 1 p.m. Kashish sat in the glass-walled conference room of her architectural firm with Aryan and Jiya. Coffee mugs and half eaten snacks lay scattered across the table as they discussed upcoming projects.

Just then, her phone buzzed. The screen flashed Diya Bhabhi. Kashish smiled and answered, "Haan, bhabhi boliye?" (Yes Bhabhi Speak)(Sister in law)

Diya's cheerful voice came through. "Kashish,  We're all here Paridhi, Piyali, and Tanushri on conference call. "

Piyali's voice chimed in first, "We're planning to go shopping for Naksh and Rhea's wedding. Once the preparations start, we'll hardly get time."

Exactly," Diya agreed, her tone firm yet affectionate. "If we don't start now, we'll be running around like headless chickens later."

Paridhi added, "Kashish, do you have any important work right now?"

Kashish glanced at her files, thought for a moment, then replied, "No, my major work got done in the morning."

"Perfect" Tanushri declared. "Looks like everyone's free. Let's meet at 2 p.m. sharp at Ziva store."

Diya wrapped it up like the responsible eldest. "Good. All of you be on time. No excuses."

The line disconnected with laughter and excitement buzzing in her ears.

Kashish turned to Aryan and Jiya. "Guys, I'll take your leave. We bhabhis are meeting for shopping for Naksh and Rhea's wedding."

"Go, baby," Jiya grinned. "Enjoy your life!"

Aryan teased, "And on the way back, bring something for us too."

Kashish rolled her eyes dramatically. "Work, Mr. CEO." But the playful smile soon faded. "Oh no..."

Jiya looked up immediately. "What happened?"

"My online payment isn't working, and my cards are in my other handbag. And you know I hardly keep cash."

"Simple," Jiya said, fishing into her purse. "Take my card."

Kashish shook her head. "No, Jiya... I can't."

"Okay then, take mine," Aryan offered casually.

"Not happening!" she said firmly.

Jiya and Aryan exchanged knowing glances. Jiya leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "Fine. You won't take ours... but you can take your husband's, right?"

Kashish blinked. "What do you mean?"

Aryan caught on and smiled. "Look, Ziva store is right on the way to Kabir's hospital. Just stop there, take his card, and enjoy shopping."

Her eyes widened. "But I've never asked him for money. How do I even—"

"Arrey!" Jiya cut her off. "Why are you behaving like some textbook 'Independent Woman'? You are Independent, we all know that. But Kashish, he's your husband. You should be comfortable asking him anything."

Kashish's voice dropped a little. In my twenty days of marriage, I haven't depended on money from Kabir and  not even from my parents or brothers.

Aryan leaned back, his tone softer but firm. "It's not about dependency, Kashish. It's about comfort. And comfort comes when you allow someone to share your space, your needs. If you keep this wall up, how will the two of you ever grow closer?"

Jiya nodded. "We know you don't like asking anyone for help. But Kabir isn't just 'anyone' He's your husband. Start small. Even if it's something as simple as a card for shopping."

Aryan added with a grin, "Exactly. March into his office and say, 'Give me your card, Mr. Neurologist, I need to shop.'"

Kashish let out a nervous laugh, then exhaled. "Fine. I'll take this step. But let me at least call him first and say I'm coming."

She dialed Kabir's number once, twice. No answer.

Jiya smirked. "Arrey, itna kya formality? You're the malkin of that hospital now, go bindaas." (Why are u doing formality, your are now owner of his hospital)

Kashish hesitated, then finally smiled. "Okay. I'll go."

Before leaving, she hugged Aryan and Jiya tightly, her heart still fluttering with nervous anticipation.

✨✨

Kashish's POV

As I pulled up before the towering glass facade of Care Bridge Hospital, my heart skipped a beat. The hospital of the Singhanias. My in-laws legacy. Kabir's empire.

And there it was bold letters gleaming on the giant board: Care Bridge Hospital. For a moment I just stared, a strange mix of pride and nervousness running through me. This was my husband's battlefield, his sanctum. The place where he wasn't just "Kabir", He was Dr. Kabir Singhania, Chief Medical Officer and Head of Neurosurgery Department.

And me? His wife. Who had never once asked him for money.

"Go, Kashish," I whispered to myself, clutching my handbag tighter. He's your husband. You're not a stranger here. As Jiya said, you too own this place now.

Still, as I stepped inside the Neurology Department Wing my heels clicked against the marble floor, I couldn't shake off the flutter in my stomach.

At the reception, I softly asked, "Excuse me, where is Dr. Kabir Singhania's cabin?"

The receptionist's face lit up the instant she looked at me. "Ma'am, you're Dr. Kabir's wife, aren't you? Please come this way."

I blinked. They knew me? My cheeks warmed as I noticed passing doctors and interns glance my way with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Some smiled, some whispered "She is Dr. Kabir's Wife, I've seen her first time in this hospital", some other girl may be an intern said "She looks So pretty" and I managed a polite nod in return.

The receptionist guided me through his cabin and finally stopped at a polished wooden door. "Ma'am, Dr. Kabir is in the operation theatre. He'll be free in about half an hour. You can wait inside his cabin."

She pushed the door open, adding, "Would you prefer tea or coffee?"

I quickly shook my head. "No, thank you. It's fine."

When the door shut behind me, silence wrapped the cabin.

I walked in slowly, The faint trace of his cologne lingered in the cabin. My eyes scanning everything, the pristine desk, the leather chairs, the perfectly aligned books on neurology. The cabin had a minimalist air, but every item screamed luxury. Even the pen lying on his desk probably cost more than my skincare set.

A laugh escaped me. "And he calls me high maintenance." Finally, my gaze landed on the golden nameplate. Dr. Kabir Singhania. Neurosurgeon. HOD. CMO.

Reading those words made my heart swell. He wasn't just mine, he was a man of stature, respect, and brilliance. And here I was, about to nervously ask him for his credit card.

I sank into the couch, exhaling slowly. Come on, Kashish. You can do this. He's not going to scold you. He's your husband. Still, my palms refused to stop sweating.

Kabir's POV

I stepped out of the OT, shoulders aching, scrubs clinging with the heaviness of seven relentless hours. Another life saved, another battle fought, but I was drained. After checking on the patient in post-opp, I finally pressed the lift button, longing for one thing: my cabin. My space. The only corner in this hospital that gave me peace.

As I walked toward the reception, I asked casually, "Any calls, Ms. Mehra?" She looked up, shaking her head. "No calls, sir. But your wife is here. She's waiting in your cabin."

For a second, I froze. Kashish? Here? My heart skipped, was she fine? Did something happen? A hundred reasons spun in my head, but behind all that concern, a strange warmth bloomed. My eyes, restless from the fatigue of surgery, were suddenly eager, eager just to see her.

I pushed open the cabin door, and there she was. Sitting on the couch in crisp formal attire, the picture of elegance, yet her sindoor and mangalsutra shone brighter than anything else. Those two things, simple yet sacred, had somehow become my favorite adornments on her.

She was flipping through my medical research journals, frowning adorably at the text.

"Kashish?" I stepped in, voice softer than I intended. "How come you're here? Is everything fine?" She looked up instantly, rising to her feet. "Yes, everything's fine."

I walked closer, gesturing lightly. "Why are you standing? Sit." Then I joined her on the  couch. My eyes fell on the journal in her hand, and I teased, "So how did you find my research article?"

She scrunched her nose, muttering, "I think I'll need a dictionary with me next time. Most of the words are beyond my knowledge."

We both burst out laughing, the tension melting for a moment.

But I didn't miss it, the way she fidgeted, her fingers twisting nervously. Something was on her mind. "So," I leaned slightly, "tell me, Mrs. Singhania. What brings you here?" Her eyes darted away, her voice soft. "Kabir, all the bhabhis and I have planned to go shopping for Naksh and Rhea's wedding. But my online payment isn't working, I forgot my cards in my other bag and I usually don't carry cash, so I..." She trailed off, stumbling over the words.

I smiled knowingly. So that's it. I chuckled, shaking my head. "Kashish, who am I to you?" She blinked, confused. "Why are you asking me that? You're my husband." "Exactly." I leaned closer, my voice firm but warm. "I'm your husband. If you need anything, anything at all, there's no reason for this hesitation and there is no need of giving reasons. Say it with the rights you already have. Just look at me and say, Kabir, I want to go shopping, give me money. Simple."

I stood then, walking toward my drawer, a grin tugging at my lips. "And you know what your husband will do?" I pulled out my wallet, flipping it open with ease. "He'll take out his wallet... take out his Black Card..." I slid the card free and walked back toward her, pressing it into her hand. "And he'll hand it over to his wife. Because that's how simple it is, Kashish." And  Whatever is mine is yours too. 

Her fingers brushed mine as she accepted it, her eyes wide, still holding onto that innocence that never failed to undo me. 

She looked at the Black Card in her hand and smiled softly. "Kabir, you make things so easy for me. Thank you for this."

I raised a brow. "If you're going to say thank you, then I'll take the card back."

Her eyes widened. With mock drama, she pulled the card close to her chest. "No! Now it belongs to me. You yourself said, whatever is yours is mine."

Her words struck deeper than she probably realized. My lips curved into a smile. "So you're learning to say things aloud now?"

She bit back a shy smile but quickly changed the topic. "Did you have your lunch?"

" I replied. "Yug and I have decided to have lunch together. Come join us."

She shook her head. "No, all the bhabhis and I had already planned to eat together."

"Fine," I said, pretending to sound stern but failing. "But listen don't think twice before buying anything today. Even if you bring the entire store home, it's fine." I said with a teasing smirk.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "And then you'll again call me high maintenance?" 

I smirked "Because you are."

"Oh really?" she shot back, glancing around the cabin. "Dr. Kabir, look at this cabin. It screams luxury and status. If anyone here is high maintenance, it's you."

Her sass made me laugh, shaking my head. "Good observation, Mrs. Singhania."

She said "Okay, I should leave now. Otherwise, the bhabhis will tease me again for being late." She stood up then, adjusting her hair in the glass reflection. 

I rose too, watching her tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Kashish," I called gently.

She turned. "Hmm?" Without overthinking, I stepped closer and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. My lips brushed her skin warm, delicate, real for the first time. She closed her eyes at the touch, her breath catching.

When I pulled back, Kashish kept her eyes lowered, afraid that if she looked at me right then, I'd see the storm inside her. 

Her lips curved into a shy smile she couldn't suppress. She brushed her hair back unnecessarily, trying to mask the blush, but the pink on her cheeks betrayed her. I wanted to freeze the moment, hold it forever. But instead, I simply said, voice low, "Come, I'll walk you down."

We stepped out together. The entire corridor seemed to pause. Interns, medical students, even senior doctors looked on, surprised. They had only ever seen Me as Dr. Kabir Singhania the strict, silent surgeon. But today, they saw something else. A man smiling wide, walking beside his wife.

Kashish. The one woman who could bring out the softness I never knew I carried. We reached the hospital entrance, I opened the car door, watching her settle inside. "Drive safe, Kashish," I said softly.

She smiled, meeting my eyes. "I will." And as her car rolled away, I stood there, the weight of the day gone, the fatigue forgotten. All because of her.

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