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Chapter 21

As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, Shubman's eyes fluttered open. A surge of vitality coursed through him, a stark contrast to the previous day's malaise. With newfound energy, he penned a quick note to Aditi, his handwriting a scrawl of excitement. "Off to the gym," it read. He grabbed his car keys, the metallic jingle a soundtrack to his rejuvenation, and headed out.

Aditi, meanwhile, stirred from her slumber, her dreams still clinging to the edges of consciousness. Shubman's note caught her eye, and she tucked it away in the drawer—a small token of their everyday love. Freshening up, she descended the stairs to find Keart, her mother-in-law, immersed in preparations.

"What's special today, Ma?" Aditi inquired, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Today is Diwali," Keart replied, her hands busy with festive arrangements.

"Diwali? Today?" Aditi gasped, the realization hitting her like a thunderclap. "I have an event, Ma. I need to get ready." With a nod from Keart, Aditi retreated to her sanctuary, her room, where she adorned herself in a light pink lehenga. The gold detailing shimmered like stars against the twilight sky, each embroidered pattern a testament to the artisan's craft. The dupatta, a river of silk and sparkle, flowed over her arm, completing the regal ensemble. Her choker necklace, a constellation of jewels, lay against her skin—a bold declaration of elegance.

Her hair cascaded freely, framing her face, and the mangalsutra around her neck gleamed with promises made and kept. A touch of sindhoor at her hairline, a pair of light pink heels, and she was the epitome of Diwali's grace.

As she descended once more, Shubman entered, his workout's afterglow evident. "Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes tracing the contours of her attire.

"I have an event. It's Diwali, and I completely forgot," Aditi confessed, a blush coloring her cheeks at his compliment.

"You look beautiful, baby," Shubman said, his words wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

With a smile that could outshine the Diwali lamps, Aditi stepped out, her car whisking her away to the event.

The venue was abuzz with the who's who of the music industry—Shreya Ghoshal, Arjit Singh, Neeti Mohan—all icons in their own right. Aditi's heart swelled with pride as she joined them. The mass interview began, and the questions flowed.

"Aditi, you're married?" Shreya inquired, surprise etched on her face.

"Yes, ma'am, I am," Aditi replied, her voice a blend of pride and joy.

"And who's the lucky man?" Neeti prodded.

"Shubman Gill," Aditi declared, her smile unwavering.

"No way!" Shreya exclaimed, the disbelief clear in her tone.

Aditi simply nodded, her affirmation as strong as the bond she shared with Shubman.

The event unfolded, and Deepika Padukone, the host, shone with the charisma of a thousand suns. "We have a newlywed here," Deepika announced. "Let's dive into Aditi's life."

The questions came rapid-fire, each one a playful jab at the couple's daily dance. "Who's the most annoying?" "Who's the laziest?" The banter was light-hearted, the laughter genuine.

Then came the request for a glimpse into the Dussehra party organized by the BCCI. Aditi, ever the gracious guest, obliged, her phone becoming a portal to memories cherished and shared.

The evening shadows lengthened as Aditi, her heart still fluttering from the day's excitement, recounted the tale behind the photograph. "This was during the Dussehra party," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I had a recording scheduled and couldn't attend, but he needed me there. He didn't score much that day, and in his moment of vulnerability, he hugged me. Ishan captured it perfectly."

Shreya's response was immediate and heartfelt. "It's adorable. It seems like you both share an incredible bond," she remarked, her eyes softening at the image.

Neeti, ever the inquisitive one, chimed in with a playful nudge. "Show us another one, will you? I bet Ishan Kishan was behind the lens again."

Aditi's laughter was light, a melody that danced in the air. "Yes, our moments are often frozen in time by him or Athiya bhabhi," she confirmed, scrolling through her gallery with a fond smile.

Deepika, captivated by the intimacy of the moment, leaned in closer. "This is so endearing. What were you whispering to him?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Aditi's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "It's a personal secret," she admitted, "but Ishan has a knack for finding the perfect moment."

The conversation then shifted gears, from the personal to the professional. "Shreya, when can we expect your new song?" Deepika inquired, her gaze now focused on the future.

Shreya's reply was laced with anticipation. "Very soon. The recording is complete; now it's in the editors' hands," she said, her voice brimming with excitement.

As the interview wound down, Arijit snapped a photo of the ladies, a memento of their shared time. Aditi posted it on Instagram, a digital keepsake for all to see.

Final touch ups before the interview with @shreyaghoshal and @neetimohan18.
P.C: @arijitsingh

Comments:
shubmangill:
looking like 🔥🔥@officialaditisharma
                           ↪officialaditisharma: Thanks❤️❤️
shreyaghoshal: Had amazing time with you as well as @neetimohan18 and @arijitsingh.
                              ↪neetimohan18: Same here.
arijitsingh: Ahh! This lady finally gave me picture credits.
ishankishan23: Bhabhi is rocking. Bhaiyya is sulking.
                              ↪shubmangill: Shut up Kisan Jam.
virat.kohli: He is not lying @officialaditisharma
                      ↪officialaditisharma: I will be back home soon.
athiyashetty: Nice lehengas.
                          ↪officialaditisharma: Thanks Thi
yuzi_chahal23: Where did you leave our Punjabi Munda and go?
                              ↪officialaditisharma: Interview.
shreyasiyer96: Looking pretty bhabhi. I bet @shubmangill would have fainted.
                             ↪officialaditisharma: Thanks Shrey! But he did not faint.
klrahul: 👌🏻👌🏻
             
↪officialaditisharma: 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️
                                                           ↪klrahul: ✋🏻✋🏻
hardikpandya93: Wah! @officialaditisharma, you lehenga is pretty.
                                   ↪officialaditisharma: Thanks😊😊
natasastankovic_: Where did you buy the lehenga @officialaditisharma?
                                    ↪officialaditisharma: I don't know, it was a gift from patidev
natasastankovic_: That's so sweet @shubmangill.
                                     ↪athiyashetty: 💯
                                                            
↪anushkasharma: 💯
                                                                                              
↪ritssajdeh: 💯
hardikpandya93:
*started running to @klrahul's house*
                                  ↪klrahul: *started running to @virat.kohli's house.*
                                                     ↪virat.kohli: *started running to @rohitsharma45's house.*

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With farewells exchanged and the event behind her, Aditi returned home to find Keart and Shahneel immersed in Diwali preparations. She retreated to her room, shedding the layers of makeup and heavy jewellery. In their place, she donned a pink kurta vibrant with floral patterns, its bell sleeves fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. Oxidised earrings dangled from her ears, and her mangalsutra lay against her chest—a symbol of love's eternal promise.

Descending the stairs, she found Shubman in a blue kurta, his smile a beacon in the festive twilight. Together, they offered prayers, their voices mingling with the sacred chants of the aarti. Then, under the starlit sky, they joined Ishan in the joyous cacophony of bursting crackers, the night alive with light and laughter.

Dinner was a feast of flavors and fellowship, each dish a testament to the season's bounty. As the night drew to a close, the house settled into a comfortable silence, each room a haven for weary souls.

In the privacy of their room, Shubman's embrace enveloped Aditi, his words a whisper against her ear. "You looked very pretty, wifey," he murmured.

"Thanks, hubby," Aditi replied, her heart swelling with affection.

They changed into their pyjamas, the fabric soft against their skin. Aditi lay on the bed, exhaustion claiming her. Shubman, after a moment with his iPad, joined her, the device forgotten on the nightstand.

Aditi snuggled close, seeking the warmth of his presence. Shubman kissed her hair, a silent vow of love and protection. And as sleep claimed them, their breaths synchronized in peaceful slumber, the world outside faded away. In this quiet cocoon, they found solace in each other's arms, their love a gentle lullaby that carried them into dreams.

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