Aditya.

As I stepped back into the room after my call, the sight before me made me pause. Zoya was curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, the soft glow of her laptop screen reflecting off her face. She had one hand absently twirling a strand of her hair, the other cradling a steaming mug. 

She looked so peaceful, so completely in her element, that I almost didn't want to disturb her.

But then she caught sight of me and smiled, her eyes lighting up in a way that made my heart do a little flip.

"You're back," she said, setting her mug down on the side table. "Was it an important call?"

"Yeah, just some plans," I said casually, walking over and sitting down next to her. I leaned in to peek at her screen. "What are you watching?"

"Some documentary," she replied, shrugging. "Something about historical landmarks. It's relaxing."

I smiled. Of course, Zoya would find history documentaries relaxing. 

I reached for her mug, taking a sip of whatever she'd been drinking—hot chocolate, naturally.

"Go get some for yourself" she murmured with a irritated sigh.

"So, I just got off the phone with Aman," I began, setting the mug back down. "He's organizing a little get-together with some of our college friends. Thought it might be fun to catch up."

Zoya looked up from her laptop, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Oh? college friends? That sounds nice. When is it?"

"Tomorrow evening," I said, stretching out on the couch. "It'll be a small group—just a few of us. Aman, Rohit, Nisha..."

I trailed off deliberately, waiting to see if she'd pick up on it.

"Nisha?" she asked, her tone just a touch sharper than usual.

"Yeah," I said, hiding my grin. "You know, Nisha? She was in my class. Super smart, always beat me in math. We used to study together all the time."

Zoya's laptop closed with an audible snap, and she turned to face me fully, her expression carefully neutral. "Really? Studied together all the time, huh?"

I nodded, trying—and failing—not to enjoy this a little too much. "Oh, yeah. She was brilliant. And she used to bake these amazing brownies for everyone.... I think I might've had a little crush on her back then."

The shift in Zoya's expression was almost imperceptible, but I caught it—the slight narrowing of her eyes, the way she folded her arms across her chest. "A crush?" she repeated, her voice dripping with faux casualness, her lips pursed in a way that was both adorable and hilariously fierce.

Her brows furrowed just slightly, her expression still betraying a hint of annoyance despite the little smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Look at her. Teeny tiny and feisty.

As if I'd care about any other woman when this fiery, gorgeous, pregnant shortcake was mine.

"Are you going to sit there glaring at me all evening, or are you going to tell me what's really bothering you?" I teased, trying to hold back a grin.

"I'm not glaring," she shot back, her tone defensive but still sweet. "And I'm not bothered. I'm just...observing how detailed your memory is when it comes to this Nisha person."

I bit back a laugh, knowing it would only make things worse. Still, the corner of my mouth twitched, and before I could help myself, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I looked her square in the eye, smirking.

"Zoya," I said, deliberately dragging out her name "I just happen to like extremely smart women. She's history. Ancient history. Like, flip-phone-and-MSN-Messenger ancient."

Her eyes narrowed, and she huffed, her nose scrunching in that way it always did when she was really annoyed. I couldn't help it—I chuckled.

Big mistake.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" she snapped, sitting up straighter. "You're laughing while I'm trying to have a serious conversation about how much your ancient history clearly still matters to you."

"Shortcake," I started, my voice soft, trying to reason with her, but she wasn't having it.

"No! Don't 'shortcake' me like I'm overreacting!" she shot back, standing up now, pacing the room like a tiny ball of fury. "You're the one who brought her up, Adi. Do you know how stupid I feel, sitting here, wondering why you remember her so well? And what's worse? You think it's funny that I care!"

Her words came out in a rush, and I could see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. My heart twisted, guilt creeping in. 

Damn it, Aditya. She wasn't just being playful anymore—she was genuinely upset.

I stood, taking a step toward her, but she turned her back to me, arms still crossed defensively. "Baby, stop," I said gently, reaching for her hand. She didn't pull away, but she didn't look at me either.

"You know why you're feeling like this, don't you?" I asked, my tone softer now, cautious.

"Because I'm an idiot?" she muttered, her voice breaking slightly.

"No, because you're pregnant," I said, smiling faintly as I moved to stand in front of her. Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing again, but this time with less anger and more disbelief.

"Excuse me?" 

"I mean...You're not just Zoya right now. You're Zoya with extra hormones, and those hormones are making everything feel ten times more intense. Including your feelings about a certain non-existent competition."

"Right!" Zoya snapped, her voice sharp and tinged with frustration. She stood abruptly, her eyes blazing. "Mansplain pregnancy to me then blame everything on it. Because, clearly, I can't have real feelings, can I?"

The intensity of her words caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could get a word in, she was already storming out of the room.

"Zoya!" I called after her, but the sound of her footsteps retreating down the hallway told me she wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair as I stared at the empty doorway. Pregnant women were scary. Adorable, but downright terrifying.

A moment passed before I realized I needed to follow her. Leaving her to stew on her own would only make things worse. 

I found her in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with a fury that made me wonder if the vegetables had somehow personally offended her.

"Zoya," I said softly, stepping into the room.

She didn't turn around. "What?" she snapped, her tone curt.

I leaned against the counter, watching her carefully, trying to gauge just how far into angry bear territory we were. "I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I didn't mean to laugh at your feelings."

She slammed the fridge shut, spinning around to face me. Her eyes were blazing, but there was a flicker of hurt beneath all that fire. "You didn't just laugh, Aditya. You made me feel like I'm crazy for feeling this way. Like it's just hormones talking and not me."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and guilt hit me square in the chest.

I stepped closer, raising my hands in surrender. "You're not crazy, Zoya. I swear. I was just trying to lighten the mood. I didn't realize it would hurt you."

Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her posture defensive. 

"Don't try to sweet-talk me, Aditya."

"I'm not," I said, holding my hands up in surrender. "I mean it. I swear. And I shouldn't have laughed earlier. That was wrong of me. But I promise, I wasn't making fun of you."

She crossed her arms over her chest, still glaring at me but with slightly less intensity. "You're still blaming it on the pregnancy, aren't you?"

"No," I said firmly. "I'm blaming it on me being an idiot sometimes. I should've taken your feelings seriously. I do take them seriously.....

"You bring up some girl from your past, talk about how much fun she was, and then laugh when I get upset? How am I supposed to feel, Adi?"

Her tone was fiery, her words coming out in rapid bursts, and I bit back the chuckle threatening to escape. Not because I wasn't amused—I absolutely was—but because I valued my life.

"Baby" I said, moving forward, trying to keep my voice calm. "You know I don't care about Nisha or any other woman, right? They don't exist to me. Only you do."

She scoffed, turning her face away. "Sure, now you say that. But earlier, you were all 'Nisha this, Nisha that.' Why don't you just invite her to dinner next time?"

 I couldn't help it—I laughed. She's too adorable.

Her head whipped around, and the glare she shot me could've turned me to stone. "You're laughing again?" she exclaimed, her hands flying up in exasperation

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I said quickly, holding up my hands in defense as she stood up, pacing the room like a tiny hurricane. "It's just—you're so cute when you're mad."

"Cute?" she practically yelled, spinning around to face me. "I'm mad, Aditya! I'm not trying to be cute!"

"Too late," I muttered under my breath, earning a glare that told me I was really pushing my luck.

She marched over, standing right in front of me, hands on her hips, her eyes blazing.

Pregnant women might be scary, but this one was my whole world.

I cupped Zoya's face gently, tilting her chin so her eyes met mine. Her beautiful, expressive eyes were swimming with vulnerability, and it made my chest tighten. 

"You know how obsessed I am with you, right?" I said softly, brushing my thumb across her cheek. "A thousand Nisha's wouldn't hold a candle to my beautiful shortcake. Can they?" 

She let out a soft scoff, but I didn't miss the slight quiver in her voice when she replied, "Why can't they? Soon I'll be saggy, bloated, and chubbier than ever." She pulled back a little, her fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "And the world? It's full of sexy, glamorous women. Your air hostesses?" She glanced at me, her voice dripping with faux casualness. "They love their Captain Hooda, don't they?"

I stared at her, stunned for a moment. "Wait...what?" I blinked, trying to process her words. "Are you seriously jealous of my crew?"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. Don't tell me they don't have a crush on you. I have my eyes and ears everywhere Adi. And now, with me looking like this—"

I couldn't hold back a laugh, cutting her off mid-sentence. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and I immediately regretted it. 

"Sorry, sorry," I said quickly, raising my hands in surrender. "But Zoya, do you hear yourself? You're comparing yourself to people who don't even come close to what you mean to me."

Her lower lip jutted out in a slight pout, and it took everything in me not to kiss it. "You're not the one who's going to look like a beach ball in a few months," she muttered.

"As if you're not the one who's going to be even more gorgeous than she already is," I countered, stepping closer and wrapping my arms around her waist. "Zoya, I've never cared about anything as much as I care about you. You, your chubby body, 10-15 kgs more of you, your everything. You're not just my shortcake; you're my world."

She tried to maintain her annoyed expression, but the corners of her mouth twitched slightly, betraying her. "You're just saying that because I'm pregnant."

I shook my head firmly. "No, I'm saying that because it's the truth. And you know what?" I leaned in, my forehead resting against hers.

I held her close, a smirk tugging at my lips as I ran my hands up and down her back, feeling her relax against me. She was always like this—adorable, fiery, and completely unreasonable in the best way possible. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"I can gain weight too, you know," I offered casually, trying to keep my face straight. "If that'll make you feel better, I could—"

"Yeah, right!" she cut me off, pulling back just enough to look at me with mock outrage. Her eyes narrowed, but the sparkle in them gave her away. "You think I'd let you compromise with that body? No chance. Your hotness the only thing keeping me sane with all the chaos pregnancy is bringing."

I laughed softly, leaning in to nuzzle her temple. "So everything else about pregnancy is terrifying?"

"Exactly," she said, matter-of-factly, poking a finger at my chest. "So, spare my sexy fiancé, will you?"

Her words made me chuckle, but deep down, I felt a surge of warmth. She was struggling, sure, but her humor and honesty never failed to shine through. It was moments like these that reminded me how deeply in love I was.

"Or husband?" she added slyly, her voice dipping into a teasing tone as her finger trailed from my chest up to my collar.

Her words made me pause. Husband. The sound of it sent a jolt through me, equal parts excitement and anticipation. I tilted my head, my smirk widening. "Oh? Are we promoting me already? Haven't even worn this engagement ring two full days, and you're ready to tie the knot?"

She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but the way her lips twitched gave her away. "I'm just saying," she said, biting back a grin. "If you're already obsessed with me, we might as well make it official."

I couldn't help myself. I tipped her chin up with my finger, holding her gaze. "Shortcake," I murmured, my voice dipping lower, "I don't need a wedding to tell me you're mine. But if you're ready to make me the happiest man alive, just say the word."

Her cheeks flushed, and she let out a nervous laugh, swatting at my chest.

"Also...adiii.." the way she sings my name right now? 

hmmmm.

"I have... talked to this.. wedding planner..."

Her confession caught me off guard. I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes playfully as I leaned closer to her. "You've talked to a wedding planner?" I repeated, arching an eyebrow.  "So who are you Marrying? Cuz some one should have known about that..."

She pointed a finger at me, her eyes narrowing. "You tease me one more time tonight, Captain Hooda, and the couch becomes your new bed. Permanently."

I held up my hands in mock surrender, fighting back a grin. "Sorry, sorry. No teasing. Go on.." 

Her glare softened, and she relaxed back into the couch, getting all snuggly against me again. The sudden shift from feisty to cuddly made me want to laugh, but I wisely kept it to myself.

"So, yeah..." she started, her voice quieter now, "I was thinking... we don't know what rituals to pick, right? So, can we... do a Christian wedding too?"

I blinked, surprised by the request. "A Christian wedding?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Mhm." She nodded, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. "After Ammi and Abbu... Dhara's family became my second home, you know? Aunty, her beliefs... they shaped me, too, in ways I didn't even realize. It feels right to honor that part of me as well."

Her words tugged at something deep inside me. I could see the earnestness in her eyes, the desire to embrace every part of her journey, her story, and make it a part of ours.

I reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "If that's what you want, Shortcake, we'll make it happen," I said softly.

Her eyes lit up, and she smiled, a mix of gratitude and relief washing over her face. "You mean it? You'd be okay with that?"

I nodded, brushing my thumb along her cheek. "Of course. It's our wedding, Zoya. It should reflect who we are—every part of us. Besides, I think you'd look stunning walking down the aisle in a white gown."

"Don't imagine me ..already."

"Impossible." I countered, pulling her closer. "So, a Christian wedding and... what else? You're the boss here."

She laughed, leaning her forehead against mine. "You know, I think I might just keep calling the shots if you keep being this agreeable."

"Deal," I murmured, sealing it with a kiss to her forehead. "Anything to make you happy."

Zoya's eyes sparkled with excitement, her fingers clasped tightly around mine as she leaned forward, practically bouncing on the couch. "I want... all three kinds of weddings," she announced with a bright grin, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

"All three?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow, though I couldn't stop the smile tugging at my lips. She looked so animated, it was infectious.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, sitting up straighter. "First, the Muslim wedding, with all the traditions—mehndi, nikah, everything. Then the Hindu wedding, with the pheras and the sindoor. And finally, the Christian wedding."

She clasped her hands together as if she could already picture it, her eyes glazing over in dreamy excitement. "Gosh, I'm so excited, Adi! You have no idea. I have so much already planned out in my head."

I leaned back, crossing my arms and tilting my head to watch her. "You've been planning this for how long, exactly? Feels like I'm the last one to find out."

Her grin turned sheepish, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "Oh, you know... just a few ideas here and there..." she trailed off, clearly lying through her teeth.

"Uh-huh. A few ideas," I teased, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "Care to share some of these few ideas with the groom, or should I just show up and follow instructions?"

She swatted at my arm, laughing. "Stop teasing! You're lucky I even want to marry you."

"Oh, I know how lucky I am," I said, catching her hand and pulling her closer. "But you're the one who's stuck with me for life, Shortcake. Better make sure all these weddings are worth it."

"You're really trying to make me the most exhausted groom in history, aren't you?"  I said, tugging her onto my lap.

She giggled, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You'll survive. And you'll look dashing in three different outfits. Maybe more. I'll have to approve all your sherwanis and suits, of course."

"Oh, of course," I said, my tone mock-serious. "Anything else, boss? Should I prepare a choreographed dance routine for each wedding?"

Her eyes lit up. "Actually, yes! That would be amazing! I am a terrible dancer so someone would have to do it. And you, Captain Hooda, would look amazing leading the performance!"

I blinked at her, unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Dead serious," she said, nodding, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. "Picture it: you in a stunning sherwani, surrounded by all your groomsmen, dancing like a Bollywood hero while I watch and swoon. It'll be the highlight of the night!"

I groaned, letting my head fall back dramatically. "What did I get myself into?"

"A lifetime of happiness with me," she replied smugly, poking my chest.

I leaned in, brushing my nose against hers, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Do we have three wedding nights too?"

She pulled back slightly, her brows furrowing in confusion. "That makes no sense."

"Makes complete sense to me," I said, no longer teasing but actually thinking about it. My hand slipped to her waist, my thumb brushing against her soft skin as I grinned. "Think about it. One wedding night for each ceremony."

 Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, but she tried to play it off with a scoff. "Unbelievable."

"No, I'm practical," I countered, smirking as I tightened my hold on her. "Why have one wedding night when we can spread the magic across three? It's efficient."

She burst out laughing, burying her face in my shoulder. "Efficient, he says! You just want to maximize your time being spoiled, don't you?"

"Guilty as charged," I admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "But admit it—you like the idea."

"Three weddings, three outfits, three dances." I listed, ticking them off on my fingers. "Why not three nights to match? It's only fair."

She rolled her eyes, but the laughter in them was undeniable. "Fine, Captain Hooda. But only if you survive the dance routines first."

"Challenge accepted," I said, grinning. "But don't blame me if the groom steals the show. Bollywood hero mode, remember?"

She laughed again, her arms tightening around my neck as she leaned in, her voice a soft whisper against my lips. 

"You already stole the show, Adi. You always do."

~ 

Zoya was nestled close to me, her steady breathing lulling me into a deep, peaceful sleep. I felt at ease, her warmth grounding me as I drifted further into sleep.

But then, her panicked voice cut through the quiet night like a sharp blade.

"Adi..."

~~~

Thanks for reading. Do drop down a comment or two <3