Chapter 35

I'd been thinking about it for days—how to tell Veer that I had fallen completely, irrevocably in love with him.

The words would start to form in my head, but every time I imagined saying them, I'd freeze. Veer was a man of action, not words. He cared for me in ways that spoke volumes, but when it came to something as emotional as a confession of love, I didn't know how he'd react.

And then there was the issue of timing.

Veer had been swamped with work recently. A major deal was in the works, and it demanded every ounce of his attention. He barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone deal with my feelings. I'd see him pacing around the house late at night, talking on the phone or buried in files.

This can wait, I told myself, over and over again. But waiting didn't stop the feelings from growing stronger.

At school, during lunch break, I found myself sitting with Simran, a fellow teacher who had quickly become a close friend.

"You've got it bad, don't you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her tea.

I blinked, startled. "What are you talking about?"

"You're head over heels for your husband," she said with a knowing smile. "It's written all over your face."

I blushed, looking away. "Maybe I am. But I don't know how to tell him."

Simran set her cup down and leaned closer. "Make things spicy," she said, her tone conspiratorial.

"Spicy?" I repeated, frowning.

"Men like Veer, all serious and brooding? They need something to shake them up. Do something bold. Something unexpected."

Her words left me flustered, my mind immediately flashing back to Veer's shirtless form, his tattoos and strong body and then our makeout session , her was anything but sweet and rough he understood me perfectly and his touch his gaze didn't made me uncomfortable , he made me feel love this time through actions his rough fingers digging in my flesh holding me tight and after that he every night he demanded that I let him suckle on my treasures , I evaded him a few times but he caught me , and as he got to know I sleep without my bra at night like every women he can't keep his hands to himself it's like they are his personal hand warmer ''they are soft and warm'' these are the exact words he told me  my thoughts spiraled further—what it would feel like to have him hold me, to feel his hands on my skin, his breath against my neck—

"Stop it, Tara," I muttered, slapping my own cheek to snap myself out of it.

The entire table of teachers turned to stare at me.

"Are you okay?" Simran asked, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Fine," I said quickly, burying my face in my hands.

On my way home that afternoon, an idea struck me.

I passed by an old watchmaker's shop—a quaint, unassuming place I'd noticed before but never entered. On impulse, I walked inside, the scent of polished wood and aged leather greeting me.

Behind the counter stood an elderly man, his eyes sharp despite his age. "What can I do for you, madam?" he asked kindly.

"I want to make a custom pocket watch," I said, explaining my vision. "Something with an intricate design. And... I'd like it to have a secret compartment."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A secret compartment?"

"Yes," I said, nodding. "When the date is set to my wedding date, the compartment should open."

I handed him a small photo—a picture Veer and I had taken during Diwali. I wanted it placed inside the compartment, so that when it opened, it would reveal us together.

The watchmaker smiled, clearly impressed by the idea. "It will take some time, but I can do it."

"Thank you," I said, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

This would be my way of confessing. A small, meaningful gesture that he could carry with him always.

As I left the watchmaker's shop, I thought back to Simran's advice. Her words lingered in my mind, making me feel both embarrassed and curious.

Make things spicy.

The idea seemed absurd, but then I thought about Veer—the way his gaze darkened when he looked at me, the way his touch sent shivers down my spine. Maybe it was time to be bold.

On impulse, I stopped at a lingerie store.

The shop was quiet, the shelves lined with delicate lace and silk. My cheeks burned as I browsed through the options, avoiding the knowing glances of the saleswoman.

Finally, I found it—a deep pink set that was both elegant and daring. It was completely out of my comfort zone, but as I held it up, I knew it was perfect.

"This," I murmured to myself, clutching it tightly.

I paid quickly, stuffing the bag into my purse before anyone could see.

As I walked home, I felt a mix of nerves and excitement.

The pocket watch would be my way of telling Veer how I felt, and the lingerie... well, that was for the next step.

I wasn't just ready to confess my feelings. I was ready to show him how much he meant to me, in every way possible.

And as I stepped through the front door, my heart raced with anticipation, knowing that soon, everything between us was about to change.

VEERANSU POV

Work consumed me like a storm. The major deal I'd been working on for weeks was reaching its peak, and every moment of my day was packed with meetings, negotiations, and last-minute adjustments.

But amidst the chaos, my thoughts constantly drifted to Tara.

I'd catch glimpses of her in the mornings, when she'd bring me coffee or remind me not to skip meals. I'd see her in the evenings, sitting quietly with her books or planning lessons for school. And every time, I felt a pang of guilt.

I wasn't giving her the time she deserved.

She never complained, but her quiet understanding only made me feel worse. She had a way of making everything better, of grounding me even when I felt like I was being pulled in a hundred directions at once.

And I loved her for it.

That realization had hit me slowly, over weeks and months, until it was undeniable. I loved Tara. Completely and deeply. But I didn't know how to tell her.

I thought about buying her something extravagant—a diamond bracelet, a luxurious vacation, maybe even a car. But none of it felt right. Tara wasn't someone who cared about flashy gestures.

I wanted to give her something meaningful, something that showed her how much she meant to me.

For days, I struggled to come up with the perfect idea. My frustration grew with every passing hour until, one evening, inspiration finally struck.

A locket.

Not just any locket, but one that I would make myself. A piece of jewelry that carried both our names, something personal and irreplaceable.

The thought filled me with both excitement and nerves. I had no experience with crafting anything, let alone jewelry, but I was determined to make it happen.

The next morning, I visited an old goldsmith in the city. His shop was tucked away in a quiet alley, the air inside filled with the scent of metal and polish.

I explained my idea, showing him a rough sketch of what I had in mind—a small, elegant locket with our names engraved on the surface.

The goldsmith raised an eyebrow. "You want to make this yourself?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "Can you teach me the basics?"

He nodded slowly, his expression skeptical but intrigued. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," I replied. "I want to do this for her."

Over the next few days, I spent every spare moment at the goldsmith's shop. He showed me how to melt and mold the gold, how to engrave delicate patterns, and how to assemble the locket's tiny hinges.

It was painstaking work, and I wasn't naturally skilled. I ended up with several small cuts on my fingers and a burn on my wrist from the blowtorch. But every time I looked at the half-finished locket, I felt a surge of determination.

This wasn't just a piece of jewelry. It was a symbol of everything I wanted to say to Tara but hadn't been able to put into words.

The day the deal closed was a whirlwind of celebration and relief. After signing the final papers, I stepped outside the conference room and immediately called Tara.

"Veer!" she answered on the first ring, her voice bright and cheerful. "How did it go?"

"It's done," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. "The deal is closed."

"Veeranshu Mehra," she said, her tone full of pride. "I'm so proud of you."

Her words made something in my chest tighten, and for a moment, I couldn't respond.

"Thank you," I said softly.

With the deal behind me, I went straight to the goldsmith's shop to finish the locket.

It took hours of careful work—smoothing the edges, engraving our names, and polishing the surface until it gleamed.

When it was finally done, I held it up to the light, my heart pounding. The locket was simple but beautiful, with our names intertwined on the front and enough space inside for a small photo.

I felt a mix of nervousness and excitement as I imagined giving it to Tara.

By the time I left the shop, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city. The locket was tucked safely in a small velvet pouch in my pocket, and my mind was racing.

I had never been this nervous about anything in my life—not deals, not negotiations, nothing.

But this wasn't just about a gift. It was about telling Tara how much she meant to me, how deeply I loved her.

And as I walked home, I couldn't help but smile, knowing that soon, everything between us was about to change.