I m really sorry for late updatess , dont forget to vote and comments for next chapters ..

The car hummed softly beneath them as the wind slipped through the half-open windows, a soft song playing in the background . Aarohi, completely immersed in her endless storytelling about her "great Baba," started waving her hands dramatically .

Siddhartha with just a raised eyebrow, glanced sideways at her. His fingers tapped lazily on the steering wheel, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips as he said, "So my future father-in-law is truly as legendary as you're describing, hmm, honae wali biwi jii?"

Aarohi instantly paused the music and glared at him so intensely . Siddhartha looked at her, raised his brows, and then trying to lighten the atmosphere released a silly laugh, the kind she hated because it meant he knew she was annoyed.

he teased softly, leaning just a little closer. " Honae wali biwi ji aesae to nah darao "

Aarohi crossed her arms, flicked her hair back, and stared straight at him. "Maybe worry about tomorrow's headlines? Something like — AAROHI SHARMA MURDERS A MAN WHO TALKS TOO MUCH. Imagine that. Pretty catchy, right?"

Siddhartha let out a loud laugh that filled the whole car, "Oh really? Itti si to ho aap kya karogae batao ?"

Aarohi turned her face to him with the slowest, sassiest look in the universe.
"However I am," she said softly, "I'm still yours."

And that—that single sentence hit Siddhartha so unexpectedly he pressed the brake harder than he intended.

he whispered, staring at her , "don't say things like that so casually. Don't scare me with those sweet, slippery words. I'm used to the version of you who argues with me like I'm your personal enemy, not whatever this is."

Aarohi blinked at him, not expecting that reaction.
"Oh please, sir," she said, rolling her eyes. "Don't act so delusional. My tongue slipped, okay? It's your fault anyway."

Siddhartha stared at her like she had just accused him of burning down a city.
"My fault? My fault? What did I do?"

She pointed a finger at him dramatically. "Everything. Literally everything is your fault. Now please start the car, because I am starving to death and you're busy throwing tantrums."

Siddhartha was still lost in thought, trying to decode where exactly he had gone wrong, staring ahead . Then suddenly, he shook his head, smiled helplessly to himself, and started the engine again.

And as he drove, he though he didn't dare say it aloud:

Someone ( YOUR AUTHOR ) once said the truth perfectly...
She'll be the one who gets angry, she'll be the one who throws tantrums, she'll be the one who loves you neverending, and the man... the man will simply sit there and take it all with a strange sort of innocence, because he belongs to her—completely, devotely, stupidly.

They stood side by side near the familiar gupchup stall, the air thick with the mixed aromas of Chatpataa water, mashed potatoes, coriander, and the faint dust of the busy street. The stall was glowing softly under a flickering yellow bulb .

"Uncleeee!" she called out, her voice bright that only felt natural here.

The vendor looked up and instantly broke into a wide grin.
"Arre, Aaru!" he laughed warmly, reaching out to pat her head affectionately, the same way he had done since she was a little girl.

Siddhartha stood a step behind, watching the scene with a soft smile .

The vendor glanced at him curiously, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he asked,
"Aaru beta, who is this boy standing next to you?"

Aarohi turned dramatically toward Siddhartha, her eyes sparkling with playful confidence. Without missing a beat, she announced,
"He's my future husband. My Honae Walae Pati Parmeshwar."

The uncle burst out laughing , still serving pani puri to other customers while shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wah! Wah!" he chuckled, then turned toward Siddhartha with a sudden seriousness that only elders could carry so naturally.

"Son," he began, handing over a plate, "I've watched Aaru grow up right in front of my eyes. Every time I passed by her house, she was there this tiny little girl with big dreams and endless stories. When she was younger, she would stand right here, eating gupchup, talking non-stop about her whole day as if I were her diary. She's a very pure-hearted child. Please... take good care of her."

Siddhartha nodded slowly, genuinely moved.
"I will," he said softly, with sincerity in his eyes.

The vendor smiled in approval .

Soon, Aarohi was already juggling chaos in her own unique way one pani puri stuffed into her mouth, another held carefully in her left hand, while the dona [bowl] rested precariously in her right. Her cheeks puffed slightly as she chewed, completely unbothered by the mess she was creating.

Between bites, she glanced sideways at Siddhartha and spoke through a mouthful,
"You know..." crunch "...I've always heard that rich kids are super dramatic about hygiene." crunch "They say street food is dirty and unsafe."

She raised an eyebrow at him, genuinely curious.
"Don't you think street food is unhygienic?"

Siddhartha froze.

He stared at her as if she had just committed a serious crime .

Without breaking eye contact, he picked up a pani puri, dipped it generously into the flavored water, and popped it into his mouth with dramatic intensity. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed slowly, and only then replied:

"That is complete nonsense."

Aarohi blinked.

"Pani puri," he continued solemnly, "is not unhygienic. It is a spiritual experience. It is a direct path to happiness. A way to heal the soul."

She burst out laughing.

"All street food," he added, now smiling, "is made to make people happy. AATMAA TRIPT HOJATI HAII APKO PTA HAI HONAE WALI BIWI JII ."

Aarohi looked at him for a long moment, then smiled wide, genuine, and full of something warm.

"Okay," she said, handing him another pani puri. "Then let's heal our souls properly."

After they had completely surrendered to the joy of gupchup . Aarohi slowed her steps just a little, allowing the chaos of the street to move ahead of them while she stayed back, her gaze lifting toward Siddhartha with a softness that always made his spine go unnaturally straight.

"Suniye..." she said, her voice quiet but intentional, like she was knocking gently on the door of his attention towards her words .

Siddhartha, who had been absently scrolling through his phone out of habit rather than need, immediately slipped it back into his pocket, turning his body fully toward her "Ji," he replied, his tone slower now , eyes holding hers without rush, "I'm listening."

She took a small breath, "Why don't we walk through the market for a while... properly, like this, on foot? And then after that, we can go to Shiv ji's temple. It's very close from here."

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, Siddhartha looked at her at the way the late afternoon sun was brushing gold into her hair, at the faint curve of her smile , and then he nodded .

"That actually sounds perfect," he said finally, voice low. "I needed Shiv ji's blessings anyway. A very special kind."

Aarohi's lips curved into a smile that didn't need explanation, and with that silent understanding between them, they stepped into the heart of the market.

The street welcomed them like a living, breathing thing.

Hawkers called out in loud, melodic voices, selling everything from fresh vegetables to shimmering bangles stacked in every color imaginable — red like sindoor, green like promise, gold like forever.

Glass chooris clinked musically as women tried them on, their wrists glowing in the sunlight. Rows of jhumkas swung gently , catching light and throwing it back like tiny celebrations.

The smell of roasting peanuts mixed with incense, frying pakoras, and the sweetness of marigold garlands hanging in long orange chains.

A balloon seller zigzagged through the crowd. Somewhere a child cried for kulfi.

And in the middle of it all — Siddhartha walked beside Aarohi.

SIDDHARTHA'S POV

Aaah... Mummah. Why does walking beside her feel like this?

Why does something as simple as matching footsteps with her make my chest risen in a way that feels both terrifying and addictive, like I'm standing at the edge of something irreversible?

This feeling this strange, overwhelming warmth it feels exactly like that song people talk about when they fall in love without realizing it, "Hua hai aaj pehli baar"

walking beside her?

It's undoing me.

I glance at her again and my breath stalls.

Her eyes.

Shiv jii , her eyes look like honey dip in pure gold , as if sunlight itself has chosen to drown inside them, melting into something so warm and intoxicating that it makes me forget how to breathe properly.

Hayee... main mar jaawan gudd kha kar.

What nonsense.Idiot , gadha hai tu Siddhartha. the sun is strong, falling straight onto her face, into those eyes .
What if it's hurting her?
What if it's making her uncomfortable and she's just not saying anything?

Kya karu?
Kya karu main?

I instinctively check myself — no sunglasses.
Of course not.
kya kam ka hu mai bhagawan jii ek sunglasses nhi hai merepas .

I scan the street while still walking, eyes darting from stall to stall bangles, shoes, scarves, toys, street food .

Tu sach mein pagal ho gaya hai, Siddhartha.

Just buy sunglasses.

Yes. Simple.

My hand slips into my pocket automatically , my fingers brush against paper.

Paper?

I pull it out slowly, careful not to draw attention an old folded receipt .

And then... an idea strikes.

Stupid.
Ridiculous.
Perfect.

"Umm... one minute," I say suddenly, stopping in my tracks. "I want to show you something."

She turns, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, but before she can question me, I jog a few steps away, finding a small corner beside a stall, heart beating like I'm about to pull off something dangerous instead of folding paper.

My fingers move instinctively folding, creasing, curving ..

I bend the paper carefully, shaping it, adjusting the angles, my focus absolute, as if the world has narrowed down to this one foolish mission.

Paper sunglasses.

I don't think.
I don't hesitate.
I just run back to her.

I hold them out to her like an offering.

"Here," I say, trying to sound casual, trying to hide the storm inside my chest. "For you."

AUTHOR'S POV

Aarohi froze.

"You... made these?" she asked softly, disbelief and warmth tangled together in her voice.

Siddhartha shrugged, suddenly unsure of "The sun is harsh," he replied quietly.

She took the paper sunglasses from his hand with surprising care, like they were fragile, like they carried meaning beyond logic, and slipped them on, laughing softly as she looked up at him again.

"How do I look?" she asked, tilting her head playfully.

The crooked paper glasses perched slightly uneven on her nose, catching the golden light .

In that moment, with sunlight dancing around her, with laughter still lingering at the corners of her lips, with innocence sitting so effortlessly on her face .

He stared at her for a second longer than he should have.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was low -

"Like someone," he said quietly, almost thoughtfully, "I'd do unbelievably foolish things for... without a single regret."

Her laughter came instantly — light — but it didn't fade away quickly like casual amusement. Instead, it softened, melting into a smile that stayed .

But Siddhartha, suddenly aware of how ridiculous the paper glasses actually were, cleared his throat and shifted slightly, embarrassment creeping into his tone as he added hurriedly,
"Ah— I think I made a mistake, though. I mean... how would you even see properly through paper glasses? I'm sorry, that was quite stupid of me."

Aarohi laughed again, this time more openly, more warmly, as she gently removed the paper glasses from her face, holding them carefully in her hands.

"You're worrying for nothing," she said softly, shaking her head. "The sunlight isn't bothering me at all, I promise. And as for these..."

She lifted the paper glasses slightly, examining them with exaggerated seriousness before looking back at him, her eyes glowing with amusement.
"These are actually very cute."

"But tell me... where did you even learn to make something like this?"

Caught off guard, Siddhartha smiled, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm in a rare gesture of nervousnessw.

"Well," he admitted after a brief pause, eyes dropping to the ground, "I learned it from Rishu. He keeps making things like this all the time — paper toys, little shapes, random animals . I suppose it just... stuck."

Aarohi's expression instantly softened,

"Ohhh," she said, drawing out the word with affection.

She smiled to herself, nodding as if everything suddenly made perfect sense.
"Alright, alright. That explains everything."

Aarohi slipped the paper glasses carefully into her bag, making sure it wouldn't crumple, while Siddhartha stood beside her, his eyes absent mindedly wandering over the busy market street the chaos of voices .

He glanced at her again, hesitated for a second, and then spoke, his voice softer than the noise around them.
"Do you like glass bangles?" he asked, "Mummy wears them all the time. I've bought them for her so many times. If you want... we could get some."

Aarohi stopped what she was doing and slowly looked up at him. She didn't answer right away. She just looked at him her eyes steady, unreadable, yet full of something that made Siddhartha suddenly aware of his own heartbeat. Their gazes met, lingered a moment too long, and then he broke eye contact, feeling an unexpected warmth rise to his face.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. "You'll make me embarrassed."

Aarohi burst into soft laughter, the kind that wasn't loud but carried warmth, the kind that made his nervousness ease without him even realizing it.
"Alright," she said playfully, her voice teasing but gentle. "Come on then. Let's buy some glass bangles."

Without overthinking it, she intertwined her fingers with his. The simple touch was enough to freeze Siddhartha in place. He stood there, stunned, staring at their joined hands as if afraid that if he moved, the moment would shatter like glass. Aarohi noticed, turned back to him with an amused smile, and gave his hand a small tug.

"Come on," she said softly. "Let's go."

She led him toward a woman sitting by the side of the road, her small setup spread on a cloth laid directly on the ground. Rows and rows of glass bangles shimmered under the sunlight—reds, greens, blues, golds each one catching light in its own delicate way. The woman's hands were rough, her saree faded, but her eyes were kind .

Aarohi sat infront of her on her foot , and Siddhartha followed, still slightly overwhelmed by the closeness, by the intimacy of such a simple shared act. They began exploring the bangles together, their shoulders occasionally brushing. After a moment, Siddhartha picked up a set of deep blue glass bangles, holding them up hesitantly.

"What about these?" he asked, glancing at Aarohi. "They're... beautiful."

Aarohi studied them carefully, the blue reflecting softly in her eyes. She nodded slowly, a small smile forming.
"They are," she said. "Really beautiful."

"How much are they?" Siddhartha asked the woman.

The woman told him the price, then looked at the two of them with a knowing smile and said warmly, "Shiv jii keep your pair together forever."

Aarohi let out a shy giggle, her cheeks flushing faintly. She reached into her purse, pulled out a hundred-rupee note, and handed it to the woman. The woman looked surprised, glancing between the note and Aarohi.

"This is more than the price," she said gently.

Aarohi smiled and replied softly, her voice filled with sincerity, "It's for blessing us. Please accept it, like you would from your own daughter."

The woman's expression softened instantly. She nodded, eyes glistening, and murmured blessings under her breath. Siddhartha, moved by the moment, bowed and touched her feet respectfully. Aarohi followed, doing the same, her heart feeling unexpectedly full.

With the bangles wrapped carefully, they walked away and found a quiet spot near a large tree, its roots surrounded by a low cement boundary. They sat there side by side, the market noise fading slightly into the background. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above them, casting gentle shadows over their faces.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Siddhartha kept glancing at the blue bangles resting between them, then at Aarohi, feeling a strange mix of peace and nervous excitement.

Aarohi sat quietly, her fingers brushing against his hand now and then, as if by accident, as if neither of them wanted to acknowledge how much those small touches meant.

Siddhartha hesitated for a moment, the words rising to his lips and then stopping there,

Almost in a whisper, as though the question carried something far more vulnerable than it seemed, he asked,
"May I... put the bangles on for you?"

Aarohi looked at him, , her expression softened. She didn't reply verbally. Instead, she nodded slowly She extended her hands toward him, her wrists bare,. The simplicity of the moment made Siddhartha's breath catch slightly.

He picked up the blue glass bangles with careful fingers, suddenly aware of how delicate they were—how easily they could break, how softly they chimed when they touched each other. His hands trembled just a little, not from fear, but from the weight of what the gesture meant to him. He slid the first bangle over her fingers, then another, guiding them gently over her wrist, taking his time, as though rushing would be a kind of disrespect.

As he slipped them on two at a time, Aarohi watched him quietly, her lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes lowered but glowing. The bangles clinked softly with every movement, a light, musical sound that seemed to echo in his chest.

His gaze stayed fixed on her wrist, now adorned with shimmering blue, the glass catching sunlight and reflecting it back in fragile flashes. The sound of the bangles ringing with every small movement Somewhere deep inside, a thought bloomed, quiet iiit stayed with him like a secret meant only for his heart: Unki churriya khankengi aur mera ishq gunjeyga ....

He swallowed, realizing how deeply he was lost in the moment, and gently cleared his throat, trying to mask the emotions threatening to spill over.
"Are they... too tight?" he asked softly, his voice careful, concerned, real.

Aarohi shook her head slowly, lifting her wrist just a little so the bangles chimed again.
"No," she replied, her voice warm and reassuring. "They're perfect."

She looked at her wrist, then back at him, her eyes shining with something unspoken, something shared.
"They look even more beautiful because you put them on," she added quietly.

The words caught him off guard. Siddhartha looked away for a moment, a shy smile tugging at his lips, his heart pounding far louder than the market ever could.
"I'm glad," he said after a pause, almost to himself. "I just... wanted them to feel right on you."

They sat there for a while after that, neither of them in a hurry to move, the bangles continuing to make soft music every time Aarohi shifted slightly.

How was the chapter, sweethearts?

Do you have any favorite dialogue or scene?

If you think there's anything I should change or improve, feel free to share your thoughts I genuinely love hearing from you all.

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