Authors POV

Kashish was in the wardrobe room, getting ready for Kabir's friend's grand wedding that evening. Her saree was yet to be fully draped, she stood in a silk, body-hugging petticoat, her blouse half done, fingers fumbling at the hooks as she glanced into the tall mirror. A soft glow clung to her fair skin, her hair twisted into a loose messy bun, a raw elegance in her unfinished look.

Just as she tilted her hand back to fix the stubborn hook, the door creaked open. Kabir stepped in, unaware she was inside. Perhaps Kashish had forgotten to lock the door.

The moment his eyes fell on her, he froze. He had seen Kashish countless times, yet never like this, Her half body exposing to him, half-ready, fragile, beautiful, the silk tracing her frame, her reflection flickering in the mirror like a secret she hadn't meant to reveal.

Kashish turned quickly, startled, her cheeks flushed crimson. An ocean of awkwardness and unspoken emotions drowned the room.

"Kabir... at least make some noise when you come," she said softly, her voice laced with embarrassment.

Kabir's throat went dry. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here." Why didn't you lock the door?  His gaze faltered as he turned away, guilt and something unnameable stirring within him.

"Maybe I forgot to lock the door," Kashish murmured, fumbling with her blouse. Silently, Kabir stepped back, pulled the door shut behind him, and walked to the bed outside. Sitting down, he ran a hand through his hair, his heart still unsteady. The image of her in that fleeting moment refused to leave his mind. 

Kashish's POV

As I struggled with the stubborn hook of my blouse, irritation was rising. Why is this so difficult? My fingers were trembling as I tried to fix it through the mirror's reflection.

And then, the door creaked open. I froze. My eyes darted up to the mirror, Kabir stood at the entrance. My breath caught, shock flooding me, followed by a deep wave of embarrassment. I instantly turned my back towards him, Clutching the fabric as if it could shield me, I pushed my hair back, hoping it might cover my bare back. My eyes shut tight.

Oh God, Kashish... couldn't you at least lock the door? My heart was racing so fast it felt like it would give me away. The thought of being half-exposed before him, unprepared, left me burning inside.

Was he still there? Silent? Watching? Should I say something? Should I break this suffocating awkwardness? He might be in the Room. 

I gathered every bit of courage, stepped closer to the door, and called out, "Kabir..."

"Yes, Kashish," came his calm reply. "You can come inside," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

"No, it's okay," he answered immediately, almost too politely. "You finish getting ready. I'll come when you're done." I closed my eyes again, inhaling slowly. Why is he making this harder by being so respectful? We're not strangers, we're husband and wife.

So I said it aloud: "Kabir we are husband and wife. And now that you've already seen me, you should come inside. You'll have to get used to it someday."

There was silence. Then his voice softened, uncertain, "Are you  comfortable with it?"

I swallowed, nerves tightening in my chest, but forced a steady answer: "Yes."

A few seconds later, the door opened again. He stepped in hesitant, apologetic, his eyes briefly brushing over me before darting away. I was still only in my blouse and petticoat, the same vulnerable state he had stumbled upon before.

Kabir murmured another apology under his breath, and without lingering, moved to his side of the wardrobe. He began pulling out his clothes for the evening, careful not to face me fully, as though granting me the dignity I had already surrendered. The silence stretched, heavy with both comfort and discomfort.

Kabir's POV

When I stepped inside, she was still in the same state as I had first seen her, blouse and petticoat, her saree yet to be draped. For a moment, I almost thought she would rush to cover herself, but no she had called me inside deliberately, as though choosing to strip away the awkwardness between us and replace it with a quiet comfort.

And God, she looked breathtaking. Never had I imagined such a moment, because until now, our married life had been so simple, so restrained, limited to hugs, forehead kisses, and those peaceful nightly cuddles. Nothing more. And yet, here she was half-ready, vulnerable, stunning and I standing there, fighting to keep my composure.

I moved to my side of the wardrobe, deliberately keeping my face away from her. I busied myself pulling out my outfit for the wedding, pretending focus. But no matter how much I tried, my eyes betrayed me, they kept darting back to her reflection. The way she draped her saree with such elegance, fixed her hair into place, dusted the brush across her cheeks and then, my favorite part when she applied sindoor and adjusted her mangalsutra. My wife. Mine.

"Kabir," she called softly. "Hmm, bolo Kashish," I replied. (Say kashish)

She pointed at my hand. "That's the wrong pocket square." I blinked, realizing only then that I had grabbed the wrong color. The truth was, I had been so lost in her that I hadn't even noticed. Before I could say anything, she walked towards me, pulled out the right one, and carefully tucked it into my pocket.

Her fingers brushed against me lightly as she adjusted it, and for a moment, her closeness unsettled my carefully held calm. Then, in her usual thoughtful tone, she said, "Kabir, you mentioned yesterday that there will be many reporters and paparazzi at the wedding... since it's such a high-profile event?"

"Yes," I nodded, studying her face. "Are you nervous?" She lowered her eyes a little. "A bit. You know I don't really like these social gatherings."

Guilt pricked me. "Sorry, Kashish because of me, you have to leave your comfort." Her gaze lifted instantly "Why are you sorry? It's me who feels nervous at such events. Its Not your fault."

I shook my head gently and said "But Kashish you run an architectural firm. You present in front of people twice your age. You handle high-profile architectural projects, manage this household, balance everything with such ease. Then why do these gatherings make you so uneasy? I've wanted to ask this before."

She hesitated, then spoke quietly, "Because every time I attend such gatherings, people ask me the same thing, why I chose architecture and not medicine. In the Diwan family, everyone is a doctor, a surgeon, I feel nervous answering them."

I reached for her hand, holding it firmly in mine. "Then answer them confidently. Tell them, yes, my family is full of doctors but I am an Oxford-return architect who chose her own dream. You don't owe anyone an explanation, Kashish. And trust me, tonight no one will dare question you."

Her eyes softened, as if my words gave her the strength she needed. Our conversation broke when Sujit dada, my driver, called me to say the car is ready." "Yes, Sujit dada, we're coming," I said.

Just then Kashish spoke up, her voice carrying a childlike plea, "Kabir, no driver today. Please, you drive the car."

I looked at her, reading the unspoken reason behind her request. I smiled faintly, then told Sujit dada, "Dada, you only keep the car ready. No need to drive today. Take the night off and go home."

The moment I ended the call, I glanced at her again, she was looking at me with that quiet, shy satisfaction of someone who had won a small, intimate battle. After we finished getting ready, I offered her my hand. She slipped hers into mine.  We walked down to the mansion's entrance where Sujit Kaka was waiting with the car keys. Sujit Kaka gave the gives to me and left. Looking at kashish I  said, "Your wish is granted, as you said, I am driving and sujit kaka is on leave tonight." Kashish gave a soft laugh. "Kabir, you make it sound like I forced you."

I opened the car door for her saying "Of course you did. How could I ignore an order from those eyes?" She shook her head but smiled as she slid in. I rounded the car, took the driver's seat, and started the engine. The silence was comfortable, but alive, charged. "Thank you for driving today," she said gently. I glanced at her, teasing. "That's it? Just a thank you? I was expecting at least a compliment. Something like Mr. Handsome driver.''

Her lips curved "Mr. Handsome driver, please keep your eyes on the road." I said "Done. But for the record, you look beautiful tonight. Honestly, I'm afraid the reporters might forget me and only click you."

Kashish smiled faintly and said, "Why would the reporters focus on me, when the country's youngest and most handsome neurosurgeon will be standing right in front of them?"

I couldn't help but laugh. Flirting wasn't her usual tone, and the sudden attempt was both new and disarming.

"Well then," I leaned back in my seat, eyes still on the road, "let's see the demo when we reach the venue."

****************************************************************************

Hello Pristians

So, what did you think of this chapter? Did their awkward, yet intimate moments make your heart flutter? Or were you caught up in the subtle sparks and teasing? I'd love to know your thoughts.

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