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Manvi's POV

The "yes" was official, but the silence of 12 years still felt like a gap I needed to bridge. I called him late that night, my heart skipping as he picked up on the second ring.

"Yes, Mannu?" His voice was deep, familiar, and now, undeniably mine.

"Now that... things are set," I started, twisting a strand of hair around my finger, "I feel like we still need to know each other. The versions of us from 12 years ago are old, Dhruv."

He acknowledged it softly, spending the next hour telling me about his likes, his dislikes, and the quiet habits he'd picked up in the operating room. Then, it was my turn. I took a deep breath. "I'm actually studying for my M.Sc. in Nutrition via distance learning right now. I know... I'm not as 'successful' or established as you are, but I want to grow.

I waited for the judgment, for the "why bother" that I'd heard from others. But Dhruv didn't miss a beat. I could hear the smile in his voice. "Then we will do it, Mannu. We'll finish that M.Sc. together. I'm right here at your back, no matter what. Your growth is my growth."

In that moment, the insecurity that had been gnawing at me for years simply vanished. It wasn't just love; it was a sense of belonging. I wasn't a "mistake" or a "rebel" to him. I was a partner.

Author's POV

The wedding of Dhruv Mishra and Manvi Sharma was nothing short of a royal affair. The venue was a sea of "all-gold" and ivory, shimmering under thousands of fairy lights. But while the bride and groom were the center of the ceremony, the guests couldn't help but notice a different kind of electricity crackling between the best man and the maid of honor.

During the Jhoota Chupayi (shoe-stealing) ceremony, the atmosphere turned into a playful battlefield. Krithika stood her ground like a general, surrounded by her cousins, while Anant led the groom's side with a mischievous glint in his eye that no one had ever seen before.

Anant's POV

The boardroom never stood a chance against this. Krithika was in a deep crimson saree with heavy gold borders, her eyes rimmed with kohl and defiance. She was holding Dhruv's shoes behind her back, her chin tilted up in that "Badass Tech Grace" way that usually infuriates me. But tonight, it just made my blood hum.

I leaned in close, catching the scent of jasmine in her hair. The crowd was cheering, but for a second, the noise faded. I reached out, not for the shoes, but to steady myself against the pillar she was leaning on, effectively trapping her between my arms.

"Give them up, Krithika," I whispered, my voice dropping an octave. "You've already won the night. Don't be greedy."

She didn't flinch. She looked me straight in the eye, her lips curving into a smirk. "Make me, Mr. CEO."

I felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the summer air. I lowered my head, my lips inches from her ear. "Careful. I'm very good at hostile takeovers." I watched the way her breath hitched, the way the pulse in her neck quickened. For a man who deals in cold facts, the way she blushed was the most beautiful data point I had ever recorded.

Kittu's POV

My heart was drumming a rhythm so loud I was sure he could hear it. Anant was usually a wall of ice, but tonight, he was fire. The way he looked at me-not as a consultant, but as a woman-made my knees feel dangerously weak.

As the chaos of the shoe-hunt intensified, someone pushed past us, and I lost my balance. Before I could fall, Anant's hand shot out, his palm warm and firm against the small of my back. He pulled me toward him, my chest hitting the silk of his sherwani.

His other hand came up, his thumb grazing the line of my jaw as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine that made me want to melt into him.

"I've got you," he murmured, his gaze locked on my lips. "I've always got you."

The world around us was screaming and laughing, but in that small circle of light, it was just us. I felt the heat of his skin through the fabric, the intensity of a man who had spent ten years pretending he didn't care, finally surrendering. I didn't care about the shoes. I didn't care about the relatives. I just wanted to stay in this burn forever.

Author's POV

As the ceremony continued, Amidst the hail storm of rose petals and the sacred chants, a new story was being written in the glances they exchanged-a story that promised that the next wedding in this hall might not be ten years away.

The tension is reaching a breaking point! How does it feel to see the "Cold CEO" and the "Tough Consultant" finally lose their composure?