Amara's POV:
It's the morning, and we are going to visit the farm. I wonder if they have their own farms where they grow their food items.
Morning light spilled over the fields like warm honey, turning every dew-kissed leaf into a tiny prism. The air smelled faintly of wet earth and something sweet I couldn't name.
"So people here really grow their own veggies and grains?" I asked as we reached a stretch of glistening mud.
"Yeah," Vihaan said, glancing at the path ahead. Before I could even think about how to cross, he slipped an arm around my waist, lifting me as if it were the most natural thing in the world and setting me down on the dry patch beyond.
I let out a startled laugh, the sound floating into the quiet morning. "You could have just warned me," I said, half breathless.
He gave a small, almost shy grin. "Where's the fun in that?"
It wasn't a grand gesture—just a quick, sure movement—but it sent a slow warmth spiraling through me. He always seemed to anticipate the little things, as if he knew exactly where I might stumble before I did.
I was again walking behind him while looking at his back. Like this is the man who loves me, sometimes I envy myself, where did I even find this man, or did he find me? I was busy admiring him from the back while he turned back, looking at me as if waiting for something. Maybe he asked something, but I didn't listen.
"Ama, are you even listening? Where's your attention?" he asked, putting both his hands on his waist.
Now, how do I tell him where my attention was? He started to say something else, but all I could hear was the thrum of my own heartbeat. All I could see was his pretty face, blue ocean eyes, his ruffled, messy hair, and his beautiful pink lips. 'Aww, he is way too adorable,' just these words were in my head.
Before doubt could catch up, I stepped closer and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His breath hitched, surprise flickering across his face.
I grinned and kept walking toward Nani, leaving him there in the sunlight—speechless, and, if I guessed right, smiling.
I wasn't doing anything in particular; I was eating the sweets they gave me and learning a few dance steps Vihaan's cousins taught me. It was the First January, so everyone was enjoying music, food, and family moments.
Everyone else was busy doing their thing, when I searched for Vihaan. There he was, looking at the girl eating nonstop from morning. As our eyes met, he rubbed his cheek as if teasing me.
I wiped my fingers on my napkin and laughed when he reached me, mock annoyance plastered on his face. "You've been eating all day! Are you trying to hide the dessert from me?"
"Maybe," I said, grinning. "Or maybe I'm just enjoying my new life in India—can't miss a single bite!"
He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You really are impossible."
The day drifted on with laughter, impromptu games with his cousins, and endless stories from Nani about their family farm. Somehow, even the simplest things—picking ripe guavas from a tree, tasting fresh yogurt straight from the churn, running barefoot along the soft earth—felt magical with him by my side. Every glance he gave, every slight brush of his hand, made me feel like I was the only person in the world.
By the time evening fell, the golden sun slipping behind the fields, we gathered for dinner. The long wooden table was adorned with fresh flowers, brass platters of food steaming in the warm light, and the soft hum of conversation wrapping around us like a blanket. I sat beside Vihaan, his presence so close it made my fingers twitch with a quiet anticipation.
He caught my eye across the table and raised a brow. "Ready for some fireworks after this?"
I laughed softly, excitement bubbling. "I thought that was a metaphor for dessert. You mean actual fireworks?"
"Actual fireworks," he said, leaning slightly closer. "And I want you with me—just us, on the rooftop."
Dinner passed in a blur of taste and laughter, but my mind kept stealing glances at him, at the curve of his jaw, the way his hair caught the candlelight, the quiet way he smiled just for me.
When we finally excused ourselves, he took my hand, leading me up the narrow stairwell to the rooftop. The wind was crisp, carrying the scent of the farm below, and the city beyond was slowly lighting up like a galaxy.
He paused, letting me take in the view. "Happy New Year, Ama," he whispered, voice low, carrying a gentle promise.
Then the sky lit up, brilliant streaks of red, gold, and silver cascading in bursts above us. I gasped, leaning against him instinctively, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me steady.
"Beautiful," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the distant echoes of laughter and crackling fireworks.
He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head, and I rested my cheek against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. For a moment, it was just us—the world paused, and the night sky seemed to bow in our little sanctuary.
"Vihaan…" I whispered, tugging gently at his sleeve, "Thank you for bringing me here. For… everything."
He tilted his head down, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. "Always," he murmured. "This… all of it… is for us."
He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips just past my hairline. "You know," he murmured, voice low, "I don't think anything else could feel like this."
I looked up at him, my heart swelling at the quiet intensity in his gaze. "Like what?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Like being here… like being with you," he said, his thumb brushing across the back of my hand. His eyes searched mine, vulnerable yet steady, and in that look, I felt the weight of every unspoken word, every promise we had made, every moment we had stolen together.
Slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine. "Ama," he whispered, breath mingling with mine. His hand cupped my cheek, warm and steady, anchoring me to this moment.
I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into him, into the quiet, electric tension that had built between us over months of stolen glances, soft touches, and teasing smiles.
And then, finally, his lips met mine—soft, hesitant at first, like the world had paused to let us find the perfect rhythm. The kiss deepened gradually, a gentle collision of warmth and certainty, hearts beating in sync beneath the star-strewn sky.
It was not rushed, not urgent, just as gentle as he always is. Entirely, beautifully, utterly us.
When we finally parted, breathless and still pressed together, he rested his forehead against mine again. "Ama," he murmured, voice thick with emotion, "I've wanted this… for so long."
I smiled, my own heart full and wild. "Me too," I whispered back, feeling the weight of every moment that had led us here. "More than anything."
We stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in each other, the world beneath us quiet, the stars overhead blinking like witnesses to our small, infinite universe. When he searched for something in his pockets and then got a little box, he opened it, and there was a beautiful pendant." Is this for me?" I asked when he took that pendant out of the box.
"No, it's for the lady you grabbed by the hair," he said playfully. "Of course, for you. It's just you and me here right now."
I blinked, caught between laughter and disbelief. "You're ridiculous," I whispered, though the warmth blooming in my chest betrayed me.
He grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Ridiculous enough to make you keep me around?"
I rolled my eyes, but my fingers eagerly reached for the delicate chain. The pendant gleamed in the moonlight, catching every flicker of starlight above us. "It's… beautiful," I said softly, looking up at him. "You didn't have to."
"Didn't have to, maybe," he replied, sliding the chain around my neck. "But I wanted to. Every time I see it, I want you to remember this—tonight, this moment, us."
The metal settled softly against my skin, a perfect weight, a quiet tether between us. I leaned into him instinctively, resting my head on his shoulder. "I'll remember," I murmured.
He kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening just slightly, as if to hold all the magic of the night between us. "Good," he said, voice husky with affection. "Because this—" he gestured to the stars, the city below, the soft night wind, and finally to me—"this is just the beginning."
The pendant wasn't just jewelry—it was a promise, a tiny beacon of us, shining in the quiet sky above Jaipur. I was a little shy.
"Now don't look at me like this," I said, avoiding his gaze.
"Like what? I am just looking at this beautiful lady in front of me, can't I?" he said, tilting his head.
"Stop," I said while hitting him on his chest.
And we both laughed.