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Author's POV

After the final rituals were completed and the scent of rose petals began to fade, Dhruv didn't lead Manvi to the ancestral Mishra mansion. Instead, he drove her to a quiet, elegant apartment overlooking the city-a home he had prepared in secret.

"Welcome home, Mannu," he whispered as he opened the door. It was a space filled with light, a dedicated study nook for her nutrition books, and none of the stifling weight of the past. It was their sanctuary, a place for a new beginning.

The next morning, the phone rang. It was Kumud. Her voice was full of motherly advice, reminding Manvi that being a doctor's wife was a "service." "He has a hectic life, Manvi. Make sure his coffee is ready, his clothes are pressed, and he doesn't have to lift a finger at home. That is your duty now."

Taking her mother's words to heart, Manvi hurriedly prepared a tray and brought it to the study where Dhruv was reviewing charts. But as she set the coffee down and reached for his cluttered files to organize them, Dhruv caught her hand.

"Mannu, what are you doing?" he asked, pulling her to sit in the chair beside him.

"Mamma said I should take care of your tasks so you can focus," she murmured.

Dhruv shook his head, a firm but gentle smile on his face. "I've lived alone for years, Mannu. I am perfectly capable of making my own coffee and handling my mess. We are in a partnership-we are equals. I didn't marry you to gain a househelp; I married you to have a companion. Don't bother with my chores. You have an M.Sc. to finish. Your studies and your dreams are just as important as my surgeries. Focus on your books, and I'll focus on mine"

Manvi's POV

I looked at him, and for a moment, I was surprised. For years, I had seen the women in our family lose themselves in the service of their husbands. I thought that was the price of love.

But Dhruv... his focus isn't on how I can serve him; it's on how I can grow. He doesn't see me as a wife bound by duty; he sees me as an individual with ambitions that matter. The solace I felt in his words was immense. I wasn't just 'Mrs. Mishra'; I was still Manvi, and my husband was my biggest cheerleader.

Dhruv's POV

A week later, I was at a medical conference three cities away. The hotel room felt cavernous and cold without the sound of her voice. I was looking over the schedule when my phone buzzed.

"How many more days is this conference, Dhruv?" she asked the second I picked up. She sounded small, a bit restless.

I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. I leaned back against the headboard, feeling a sudden rush of warmth. "Why so many questions, Mannu? Acha, directly bol do na... mujhe miss kar rahi ho?" (Just say it directly... are you missing me?)

There was a pause, and then her voice came through, surprisingly honest. "Haan, kar rahi hoon. (Yes, I am.) Are you not missing me?"

My heart skipped. The teasing was over. "Acha, toh yeh baat hai? (Oh, so that's how it is?) I'm coming back tomorrow, Mannu Sahiba. I haven't looked at a single sunset here because it's not worth seeing without you."

Kittu's POV

While Mannu was navigating domestic bliss, I was back in the trenches of the corporate world. We were in a high-stakes meeting with a group of international delegates. One of the senior investors-a man whose ego was clearly larger than his portfolio-kept interrupting my presentation.

"It's a very ambitious patent, Ms. Sharma," he said with a condescending chuckle. "But perhaps a bit too technical for... well, for someone of your temperament. Maybe let Mr. Mishra handle the final breakdown? It's a lot for a lady to juggle."

The room went quiet. I felt the familiar spark of fire in my gut. I closed my laptop slowly and looked him dead in the eye.

"Sir, my 'temperament' has secured three global patents while you were still figuring out how to use a spreadsheet. If the technicality is too much for you to grasp, I'd be happy to explain it using simpler words and perhaps some colorful diagrams. But don't mistake my gender for a lack of expertise. I built this; I don't need anyone to 'handle' it for me."

The man turned beet red. After the meeting, as the room cleared, Anant stayed behind. He was leaning against the mahogany table, clapping softly with a look of pure pride.

"Slaying as usual, I see," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I think you actually made his hairline recede an inch out of pure fear."

"He was an idiot," I huffed, packing my bag.

"He was," Anant agreed, stepping closer. "But you were magnificent. It's a good thing we're partners, Kittu. I'd hate to be the one on the other side of your 'temperament'."

"Is that a compliment, Mr. CEO?" I teased, feeling that familiar, fluttering warmth.

"It's a fact," he countered, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

Wait kittu where did this come from. Then anant replied Oho, kittu we are now relatives and long back we were childhood partners right itna to chalta hai(This is tolerable)

Its science project partners correction. I said.

"Now, since you've successfully terrified them , the least I can do is buy you dinner. Unless you're too busy 'juggling'?"

I laughed, a real, genuine sound. "I think I can find a slot in my schedule for you, Anant."

The "equal partnership" in both relationships is becoming their strongest bond. How does it feel to see Kittu finally having someone who celebrates her "fire" instead of trying to put it out?