Aditya

The house was buzzing with soft laughter and the shuffle of departing guests, but my focus was all over the place.

I couldn't stop the ridiculous grin from spreading across my face as I walked around our house, hosting the get-together.

empty ring box that had held her ring just hours ago. My heart skipped a beat every time I thought about it.

I felt like a schoolboy who’d just scored a date with his dream girl.

No, scratch that—I was that schoolboy, and I had just put a ring on the girl of my dreams.

Zoya.

My Zoya.

My shortcake.

My fiancée.

The word tasted sweet, surreal, almost unreal.

"Aditya, bete, such a lovely evening,” Papa said, pulling me into a brief hug. “And congratulations again. You’re a lucky man.”

I laughed, the sound light and full of joy.

“I am, aren’t I?” I said without hesitation. I didn’t care if I sounded smug—I was lucky.

Luckiest man alive.

I caught a glimpse of Zoya through the glass doors as she lingered near the staircase, chatting with Dhara.

She was still glowing, her laughter lighting up the room, and even from this distance, I could see the delicate sparkle of the ring on her finger.

My ring.

She twisted it absentmindedly as she talked, and my chest swelled with pride.

“Adi?” Mom’s voice brought me back to reality. She was standing by the door, holding desert, her eyes full of that knowing look only mothers could pull off. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?” I asked, completely unapologetic.

She smirked, patting my cheek lightly. “Hopelessly in love,” she said softly, her voice warm with affection. “It suits you.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, Maa,” I said, my voice dropping slightly. “For everything tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you and Dad.”

“Oh, nonsense. You could’ve done it without us,” she said with a wink. “But we’re glad we were here to see it. Now, stop lingering at the door and go to her before she catches you staring.”

I laughed again, shaking my head as I watched her walk off, and turned back to see Abeer.

He was the last to leave, and as usual, he couldn’t resist poking fun.

“You’re acting weird,” he said, slapping me on the back as he made his way to the door. “You keep grinning like you won the lottery or something.”

“I did,” I replied simply, my voice light but firm.

Abeer raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Alright, lover boy. Don’t let the giddiness kill you. And hey, maybe sleep sometime tonight—unless you’re too busy staring at that ring.”

“Out,” I said, shoving him gently toward the door as he laughed. “Dhara.... please take your husband away... I might kill him."

Dhara greeted Zoya with a laugh.

Later, when I closed the door, leaning against it for a moment. The house was finally quiet, and it was just us.

Zoya and me.

My fiancée.

As the house grew quieter, I sent Zoya off to freshen up while I stayed back to deal with the aftermath of the evening. I didn’t mind it—there was something oddly satisfying about tidying up, especially after such a perfect night.

Maa, Arjun, and Abeer had been incredibly helpful, clearing up the dishes and making sure everything was in order after dessert.

But once they retired, I was left alone in the kitchen, putting the last of the plates into the dishwasher.

The rhythmic clinking of cutlery was oddly soothing, but my mind wasn’t entirely on the task at hand.

Instead, it kept wandering back to Zoya—to how breathtaking she had looked tonight, to how her eyes had sparkled when I slipped that ring onto her finger.

My fiancée.

God, I’d never get tired of saying that. My mood was definitely romantic, maybe even a little distracted.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to kiss her again.

Ugh, she was just so beautiful.

I wiped down the counters, glancing around the kitchen to make sure everything was in place before turning off the lights and heading upstairs.

As I reached our bedroom door, I paused for a moment, a small smile tugging at my lips.

I had no idea how she’d look right now—maybe still giddy like me, or maybe already lost in her thoughts.

When I opened the door, the sight that greeted me made my heart skip a beat. Zoya was curled up in bed, wearing her cute pajama set—the one with tiny hearts scattered all over it.

Her hair was slightly damp, and she looked cozy, nestled under the soft comforter.

Her cheeks had a slight pink flush, and her breathing was slow and even.

She was already half-asleep, her hand resting gently on the pillow next to her.

I leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching her. The soft light from the bedside lamp cast a golden glow over her face, making her look even more angelic.

“Did you clean up everything?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep as she blinked up at me.

“Yeah,” I replied, walking over to her. “All sorted. You didn’t have to leave me alone to do it, though.”

She smiled lazily, her eyes fluttering shut again. “You wouldn’t let me help anyway. Besides, I was tired.”

I chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Tired from what? Saying yes to the most romantic proposal of all time?”

Her lips curled into a soft smile, and she opened one eye to look at me. “Maybe. That and wearing your ring,” she teased, holding up her hand slightly.

I laughed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “It suits you, you know. My ring on your finger.”

She hummed softly, her eyes closing again. “Mmm, it does. But you know what else suits me?”

“You,” she whispered, her voice so soft I almost didn’t catch it.

For a moment, I just stared at her, my heart swelling with so much love I thought it might burst.

Leaning down, I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

As I tucked the blanket over Zoya, ready to let her sleep, her voice broke the silence, soft and a little mischievous.

“Adi… I want pancakes,” she said, her tone almost childlike, and my heart immediately melted.

I turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Chocolate or maple syrup? Name it, boss. I’m at your service.”

Her lips curved into a grin, and she said, “Vanilla sauce.”

“Vanilla sauce?” I repeated, shaking my head in amusement. “Of course, why not. Anything else? Gold dust? Maybe a crab on top?”

She laughed, a sound so infectious that I couldn’t help but smile.

“Just vanilla sauce...”

I nodded and started to leave for the kitchen, but the sound of her footsteps made me pause and turn. She was following me.

“Where do you think you’re coming?” I asked, folding my arms.

“To the kitchen...after you,” she replied simply, shrugging.

“Shortcake,” I said firmly, pointing back at the bed. “You need to rest.”

She pouted, her big eyes looking at me with a mix of defiance and pleading.

“I wanna watch you cook… pleaseee?”

How could anyone say no to that?

This adorable... adorable ....woman—this adorable pregnant woman—was going to be a mother, and I still couldn’t believe it.

“Fine,” I said, shaking my head in defeat. “But you’re sitting. No standing around and tiring yourself out. Deal?”

“Deal!” she chirped, her grin widening as she followed me into the kitchen.

Once there, I handed her a glass of water and guided her to sit on the counter slab. She swung her legs playfully, watching me as I moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients.

“You know,” she began, her voice teasing, “...watching you cook is one of my favorite things. You’re so serious about it, like you’re on MasterChef or something.”

I shot her a look over my shoulder, smirking. “If I’m the MasterChef, what does that make you?”

“Your VIP guest,” she said, winking.

“Ah, of course. How could I miss?” I said with a chuckle, whisking the pancake batter.

While I poured the batter into the pan, I felt her arms wrap around my waist from behind. Her embrace was soft and warm.

Then, I felt it—a soft kiss on my shoulder, tender and fleeting, but enough to make my heart race.

I turned my head slightly, catching her glowing face as she rested her chin against my shoulder.

curved into a mischievous smile.

“Zoya,” I murmured, my voice half-teasing, half-serious.

Before I could think better of it, I turned around fully, abandoning the spatula and batter, and pulled her into my arms. She let out a surprised laugh, her hands landing on my chest, but I didn’t let her go.

“I…” I started, my voice trailing off as I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over the softness of her cheeks. “I couldn’t kiss you earlier. I want to kiss my fiancée properly, without any interruptions this time.”

Her laughter softened, her gaze locking with mine. “Your fiancée is completely smitten with you, Aditya,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling. “Come kiss her already.”

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, and I could feel the pull of her, the magnetic way she always made me lose myself.

“Are you sure?” I teased, my lips hovering just inches from hers, making her wait, enjoying the way she leaned in impatiently.

“Adi…” she groaned, her tone half-annoyed, half-begging. “Stop being such a tease and—”

I didn’t let her finish. Closing the distance, I kissed her, my lips capturing hers with a softness that deepened into something more as she responded, her fingers tangling in my hair.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, a declaration, a reminder of everything we were building together.

When we finally pulled apart, her face was flushed, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

“Well?” I asked, grinning as I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She took a breath, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Hmm… I think I might need another one to decide if it was good enough.”

“Oh, is that so?” I teased, leaning in again.

My world narrowing down to just her—the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, the soft curve of her lips. Slowly, I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips to hers.

It was gentle at first, a kiss that whispered all the unspoken emotions I’d been holding back since earlier in the evening. But then her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepened.

“I can’t stop kissing my... lovely fiancée,” I murmured between kisses, my lips brushing against hers as I spoke.

She giggled softly, her arms wrapping around my neck as she pulled me even closer, her voice a mix of laughter and something deeper.

I obeyed, capturing her lips once more, my hands resting on her waist, holding her like she was my entire world—which she was. Time seemed to blur, every moment centered on her until—

“Adi!” Zoya suddenly pulled back, wrinkling her nose. “Something’s burning!”

Reality hit me like a truck, and I froze. “Oh no... the pancakes!” I groaned, scrambling to get to the stove. The smell of burnt batter filled the air, and I turned off the burner, waving a hand to disperse the smoke.

Behind me, Zoya burst into laughter, leaning against the counter as she wiped her lips with her hand.

“You’re such a disaster sometimes,” she teased.

Turning back to her, I pointed at the pan accusingly.

“This is your fault! If you weren’t so irresistible—”

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer to me and using her thumb to wipe at my lips.

“And now my lip tint is all over you.”

“Lip tint?” I repeated dumbly, staring at her as she smirked.

“Mhmm,” she said, holding up her hand to show me the faint pink smudge.

“You look so hot…” I murmured, my voice low and thick as I tilted her chin up slightly with my thumb, my eyes lingering on her lips. The faint pink tint smeared there sent a surge of heat through me. “With this... tint smeared on your lips.”

She laughed softly, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink.

“And you look adorable,” she countered, her voice teasing yet breathless, her eyes sparkling as she tried to match my intensity.

I didn’t let her finish the thought. My hands found her waist, and I pulled her closer—flush against me, leaving no space between us.

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly against mine.

“You’re sexy like this,” I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear, the air between us charged and heavy. “Our… desperation… so evident on your face.”

Her hands fisted in the fabric of my shirt, her body trembling slightly against mine.

“Adi…” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, and I could feel the way her resolve was slipping, just as mine had long ago.

“Hmm?” I hummed, leaning in closer, my lips grazing the corner of her mouth. I could feel the heat of her breath, see the way her lashes fluttered as she struggled to maintain composure.

I captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of longing and love into it. She responded immediately, her hands tangling in my hair, her body pressing into mine with equal fervor. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a collision of everything we felt but couldn’t put into words.

When we finally broke apart, her lips were even more flushed, her breath ragged as she leaned her forehead against mine. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she murmured, a hint of laughter in her voice.

I smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

She laughed, pushing lightly against my chest.

“Your talks… you’re too romantic,” she accused, her cheeks flushing a delightful pink as she looked up at me with faux indignation. “This is why I got pregnant without any planning. It’s all… because of you… and your impossible charms… ughhh!”

She punctuated her complaint with a playful punch to my chest, her small fist landing with zero force but plenty of attitude.

“Ohhh, so feisty!” I teased, clutching my chest dramatically as if she’d knocked the wind out of me. “I’m scared! Terrified, really!”

Her eyes narrowed, but the corners of her lips twitched, betraying her attempt to stay serious.

“You should be scared,” she shot back, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m the one who has to deal with this—” she gestured vaguely toward her belly, “—while you just walk around being all charming and irresistible.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

“Charming and irresistible, huh? I like the sound of that.”

“Don’t get cocky,” she warned, but her lips curved into a smile despite her best efforts.

I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her against me.

“Admit it, Shortcake,” I murmured, leaning down so my lips were close to her ear. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She huffed, but her fingers found their way to the collar of my shirt, holding me close. “Maybe not,” she admitted softly, her voice losing its edge.

I grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple.

I picked her up effortlessly, cradling my lovely, lovely fiancée in my arms. God, I feel so giddy just calling her that. My fiancée. It’s a word that doesn’t just roll off the tongue—it sings.

She giggled, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Adi, you don’t have to carry me everywhere, you know. I have feet.”

“Your feet deserve a break,” I teased, planting a soft kiss on her forehead as I made my way to the bed. Gently, I laid her down and tucked the blanket around her. “Rest here, love. I’ll get your pancakes. Just relax, okay?”

She pouted, her eyes soft and pleading. “Nooo… I want to come with you.”

I shook my head, chuckling at her stubbornness. “Zoya, please. You’ve had a long day...”

She sighed dramatically but nodded. “Fine. But don’t take too long.”

I left the room, quickly whipping up a fresh batch of pancakes, just the way she liked them, with vanilla sauce drizzled generously on top.

By the time I returned, balancing the plate and a glass of water, her expression had changed. She looked at the pancakes and made a face, wrinkling her nose.

“Nothing sweet now,” she groaned, sitting up slightly. “It’s making me sick.”

I blinked, staring at the pancakes like they’d betrayed me. “But… you just asked for these!”

She gave me an apologetic smile, shrugging.

“Its fine, Adi. Don’t try; you’ll just get a headache.”

Pregnant women are weird, I sighed.

I sighed, a little disheartened, but I took a seat beside her on the bed and started to eat the pancakes myself.

“Well, someone has to appreciate these,” I muttered, taking a bite.

But as soon as the vanilla sauce hit my taste buds, I groaned dramatically.

“God, Zoya… who even puts vanilla sauce on pancakes? This is… I cannot—”

She burst out laughing, her giggles filling the room like music. “Stop complaining! You made them, didn’t you?”

“Under duress!” I countered, waving the fork for emphasis. “This is not normal, Zoya. Chocolate or maple syrup, sure. But vanilla sauce? What kind of a monster am I engaged to?”

She smirked, leaning closer and poking my arm.

"Eat up big boy...eat up..."

I groaned, but I couldn’t help smiling. With her in my arms, even vanilla-sauce pancakes didn’t seem so bad.

~~~
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