The morning of the Grih Shanti Puja was filled with an air of devotion and anticipation. The house, which Ishita had carefully designed, was decorated beautifully with garlands of fresh marigolds, mango leaves, and twinkling oil lamps. The soft hum of shlokas from the priest, the faint scent of sandalwood, and the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the windows created a serene atmosphere.

Ishita was busy arranging the puja samagri when Dhruv walked up to her, looking somewhat hesitant yet determined.

"Maa ka phone aaya tha," he started, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ishita looked up. "Oh, aunty kaise hain?"

"Woh theek hain," Dhruv said before taking a deep breath. "Unhone bola ki ghar ki Lakshmi ke haathon se pehli rasmein honi chahiye."

Ishita frowned. "Matlab?"

"Matlab yeh ki tumhe Swastik banana hai aur diye jalane hai," Dhruv stated simply. "Maa ki instructions hain. Mai bhi yahi chahta hu."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Dhruv! Yeh tumhara ghar hai. Yeh rasmein tum ya tumhare parents ko karni chahiye!"

Dhruv shook his head, stepping a little closer. "Ishita, yeh ghar tab tak bas ek makaan tha jab tak tumne ise apni roshni se ghar nahi banaya . Tum is ghar ka hissa ho. Toh yeh rasmein bhi tum hi karogi na."

Her heart skipped a beat. He said it so simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She hesitated for a moment before nodding, her fingers lightly grazing the brass plate as she picked it up.

With slow, deliberate movements, she dipped her fingers into the turmeric and vermillion paste and carefully drew a bright red Swastik on the entrance wall. She could feel Dhruv’s eyes on her, watching her every move, but she focused on steadying her breath.

Dhruv watched her, his heart swelling with an unexplainable feeling. He never believed in rituals much, but seeing Ishita perform them with such devotion made him feel something different. Like this house was truly turning into a home.

After completing the Swastik, she picked up a brass diya and lit it. The flame flickered before standing tall, casting a golden glow over the entrance. She looked over her shoulder at Dhruv, who gave her a small nod, the corner of his lips lifting slightly.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Her breath hitched. Dhruv’s parents were here.

She quickly wiped her hands, but before she could move, Dhruv gently held her wrist. "Relax," he murmured. "Tumne mujhe apne dad se milwa diya, ab meri baari hai."

"Haan, par tumhe tension nahi thi. Mujhe ho rahi hai," Ishita huffed.

Dhruv chuckled. "Toh main bhi thodi acting kar loon?" He faked a nervous expression. "Agar unhone mujhe pasand nahi kiya toh?"

"Tum unke bete ho, Dhruv, obviously pasand karenge," she rolled her eyes.

"Aur tum?" he raised an eyebrow. "Tum toh unki hone waali bahu ho, tumse zyada kaun pasand aayega? Waise haan, bohot sundar lag rahi ho. Hamesha ki tarah."

Ishita turned red at his words. "Shut up," she muttered under her breath and went to open the door.

She nodded, inhaling deeply, and opened the door.

His mother, draped in an elegant saree, smiled warmly at her. "Beta, tumne Swastik banaya?"

Ishita hesitated, then nodded. "Ha. Aapke orders the, kaise nahi banati."

His mother stepped forward and cupped her cheek gently. "Bohot accha kiya. Tum is ghar ki pehli shubh pehchaan ho, Ishita."

Ishita felt her throat tighten. She had never imagined being accepted so easily, so warmly.

Dhruv’s father placed a reassuring hand on Dhruv’s shoulder. "Aaj ghar ki Lakshmi ne diya jalaya hai. Yeh ghar sadaiv khush rahega."

Ishita turned her head slightly, her gaze meeting Dhruv’s. He was already looking at her, his expression unreadable yet filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

For the first time, she truly felt like a part of his home.