Chapter 21

The school was a madhouse, and I was caught right in the middle of it.

With the annual function just a week away, every hallway seemed to echo with the sounds of rehearsals, last-minute changes, and frantic teachers trying to keep everything on track. Students darted around, some clutching scripts, others balancing props, and a few—always the usual troublemakers—doing absolutely nothing productive.

"Ma'am!" one of the kids called out, running toward me. "The sound system in the auditorium isn't working again!"

I sighed, mentally adding it to my growing list of things to fix. "Alright, I'll check it after this rehearsal."

"Ma'am!" another student yelled, this one holding a costume that looked like it had been through a storm. "The seam ripped! What do I do?"

"Take it to the sewing room and ask Mrs. Desai for help," I replied, already moving to break up a small argument brewing between two students about whose prop was more important.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, I was completely exhausted. My feet ached, my throat was dry from shouting directions all day, and my head throbbed with a dull pain that came from juggling too many tasks at once.

When I got home, I dropped my bag by the door and sank into the couch, letting out a deep sigh. The quiet of the house was a welcome change from the chaos of the school.

But even as I tried to relax, my mind wandered to Veer.

I thought about our conversation from the other day, about how he'd never had anyone make something special for him. It saddened me to think of all the small moments of care he had missed out on growing up—moments I had taken for granted.

And then I had this idea. Why couldn't I be the one to change that?

I sat up straight, a renewed sense of energy coursing through me. From today onwards, I decided, I would make lunch for Veer.

I headed to the kitchen and rolled up my sleeves, determined to prepare something both delicious and comforting. Paneer curry, roti, dal tadka, and kheer—it wasn't overly fancy, but it was made with care.

As I cooked, I couldn't help smiling, imagining the look on Veer's face when he saw the meal. Would he be surprised? Happy? Maybe even a little embarrassed?

When the food was ready, I packed it neatly into a tiffin box and placed a note on top:

"We might be adults now and not in school anymore, but that doesn't mean you can't have lunch prepared especially for you with care. I am here to do so for the rest of our lives."

After sealing the tiffin, I called one of the staff members. "Please make sure this is delivered to Veer at his office," I said, handing it over.

"Yes, ma'am," the staff member replied, smiling knowingly.

As evening approached, doubt began to creep in. Had I crossed a line? Would Veer think I was being overbearing? What if he didn't like the food, or worse, felt uncomfortable with the gesture?

By the time the clock struck seven, I was a bundle of nerves. I paced the living room, alternating between convincing myself it was fine and imagining all the ways it could have gone wrong.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't hear the front door open until Veer's voice called out.

"Tara!"

Before I could respond, he was there, pulling me into a tight hug.

For a moment, I was too stunned to say anything. But as I felt the warmth of his embrace, the tension I'd been carrying all day melted away.

"Thank you," he murmured into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. "For the lunch, for the note... for everything."

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could say anything, Veer stepped back slightly, looking at me with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

And then, in one swift motion, he scooped me up into his arms, bridal style.

"Veer!" I exclaimed, clutching his shoulders.

But he didn't say a word. Instead, he leaned in and kissed me, his lips capturing mine in a way that was both tender and passionate.

When he finally pulled back, his expression was a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I was overwhelmed, and I... I couldn't help myself. Please don't hate me for it."

I stared at him, my cheeks burning, but I didn't feel anger or discomfort. Instead, I felt something else—something warm and fluttery and impossible to put into words.

Slowly, I leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, hiding my face in his chest as I whispered, "I liked it , and it was my first kiss ever"

His arms tightened around me, and I felt his chest rise and fall with a deep breath his eyes looking in mine with so much intensity that left my spine shiver down my brown eyes colliding with his black ones and his ears were slightly red ''you know you are really making it difficult for me to maintain my tough guy persona'' he said kissing my cheeks , I hid my face in his chest his smell making my knees weak

"You're too good to me, Tara," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I looked up at him, my face still flushed. "Because it's you, Veer. That's why."

His eyes darkened slightly, and before I could say anything else, he kissed me again. This time, it was slower, deeper, and filled with emotions that neither of us needed to put into words.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, his lips curving into a small smile.

"You've made me feel things I didn't think I was capable of," he admitted.

"You've done the same for me," I replied, my voice soft.

That night, as we sat together in the living room, the world felt a little brighter, a little warmer. Our marriage had started as an arrangement, but it was moments like these that made me realize how far we'd come.

And as Veer reached for my hand, his grip steady and sure, I knew we were only just beginning.