Siddharth's POV
The room was finally quiet.
Blessed silence after hours of rituals, photo sessions, relatives talking non-stop, and friends behaving like they were in a wedding-themed comedy show.
I stepped out of the bathroom, toweling my hair, and paused at the sight in front of me.
There she was—my wife—sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling with her earrings like they were part of a military-grade trap. Her bangles jingled every time she moved, and her dupatta looked like it had been in a fight with gravity and lost.
I cleared my throat.
She looked up like I just caught her stealing the moon. Eyes wide, cheeks instantly pink. "Hii," she said, drawing out the 'i' like she wasn't sure if it was too early in the marriage to speak.
"Need help?" I asked, nodding toward the earrings.
"I'm good! Totally manageable! I do this all the time. Every day. Earrings are like... my best friends," she said in one breath, and immediately looked like she regretted all of it.
I blinked. Okay.
She fumbled a bit more, managed to yank the last earring out (ouch?), then stood up and clasped her hands like we were in a job interview.
"So..." she said, avoiding eye contact like I had laser beams in my pupils.
I sat on the couch and leaned back, watching her from the corner of my eye. She was pacing slowly now, talking to herself in whispers. Something about how the bed was too neat and how she forgot to smile back at my cousin's sister's niece's friend's grandmother—whoever that was.
Honestly, she was... interesting.
Soft-spoken. Clumsy. Weirdly expressive. And clearly not used to this world.
But something about her awkward charm was... kind of endearing.
She suddenly stopped pacing and turned to me like she remembered something really important.
"Do you—uh—want water?" she asked.
"I'm good."
She nodded. Twice. Maybe three times. Then grabbed a glass of water and drank it herself like she was the one who offered it.
Okay.
Silence settled between us again. This time, not so bad.
She sat at the very edge of the bed, legs straight, hands in her lap, posture so stiff she could be mistaken for a student waiting for roll call.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"Relax," I said.
She looked at me, startled. "I am relaxed," she squeaked.
Sure.
This was going to be interesting.
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