The door shut softly behind them, sealing them inside their own little world.

For the first time since the wedding, it was just them. No teasing Rudra. No watchful elders. No endless rituals.

Just Om and Gauri.

She took a slow step forward, her anklets chiming softly in the quiet room.

Om didn't realize he was staring until she moved again.

Her gaze flickered around—observing, taking in the space that was now hers too.

The room had been transformed for their wedding night—candles flickered in every corner, and soft rose petals were scattered over the floor and bed. A warm glow bathed the space, a blend of soft golds and deep reds, mirroring the color of her bridal attire.

Om had never paid much attention to the décor of his room before. It had always been his space—simple, clean, his own. But today, standing here with Gauri, he suddenly saw it through her eyes.

She was new to all this. New to his house. His family. His world.

And yet, as she moved, there was a quiet grace in her steps—like she was trying to blend in without disrupting anything.

Om swallowed, suddenly feeling like a stranger in his own space.

He turned away when he noticed her moving toward the dressing table.

A Quiet Routine

Gauri sat down, the mirror reflecting the soft glow on her skin.

With practiced hands, she started removing her jewelry, placing each piece neatly on the table.

Her bangles first, the delicate clinking filling the silence.

Then her earrings, her necklace, her maang tikka.

Each piece she removed seemed to make her look simpler, softer—closer to the real Gauri underneath the layers of bridal grandeur.

Om hesitated.

He didn't want to just stand there watching her.

So, in silence, he picked up his night suit, turned on his heel, and walked into the washroom.

The Unexpected Embarrassment

When he stepped back into the room, a soft rustling caught his attention.

Gauri was kneeling beside her suitcase, pulling out something soft and light—her comfort clothes.

She was still dressed in her wedding attire, the weight of it undoubtedly uncomfortable after the long day.

Without a word, she stood, her hands clutching the fabric, and walked towards the washroom.

The door closed with a quiet click.

Om sighed, rubbing his face.

This is new for her. Give her time.

His eyes drifted across the room, and then—they landed on the bed.

His brain froze for a second.

The silk sheets were covered in rose petals.

There were candles flickering on the bedside tables.

Even the pillows were arranged in a way that made things painfully obvious.

What the hell?!

Om groaned inwardly, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Who even does all this anymore?!

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling both annoyed and flustered.

This was not how he wanted Gauri to feel on her first night here.

He didn't want her to feel awkward, uncomfortable, or pressured.

Screw it.

Before she could return, he quickly moved forward, grabbing handfuls of the rose petals and shoving them off the bed.

He yanked the decorative pillows away, tossing them to the side.

By the time Gauri stepped out of the washroom, the room looked a little more normal.

But Om—**startled, caught in the act—**froze on the spot.

First Glimpse of Simplicity

For the first time, Om saw Gauri in something other than her heavy bridal attire.

She was in a simple, soft-colored kurta, her long hair damp from the water, loose around her shoulders.

No jewelry. No bangles. No veil.

Just her.

Om didn't realize he was staring until she stopped a few feet away, shifting uncomfortably.

A strange awkwardness settled between them.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them moved.

It was as if the **weight of this moment—the reality of being alone together—**had finally caught up to them.

For the first time since they had been bound in this marriage, it was just them.

No expectations.

No pretense.

Just a man and a woman... standing together at the beginning of something unknown.