e first light of dawn streamed through the carved jharokha windows, painting the room in a soft golden hue. Poornima stirred awake, a faint ache in her legs reminding her of the night before—but instead of shyness, a quiet happiness bloomed in her chest. She had given herself to Veeresh, and in doing so, she felt closer to him than ever.

She slipped out of bed carefully, adjusting her dupatta over her shoulders. Her reflection in the mirror showed a face glowing in a way no amount of jewellery could match. Smiling faintly, she went to the kitchen to prepare tea for her husband.

When she returned to their room, Veeresh was just waking. She set the tray down, but before she could serve him, his arm shot out, pulling her onto the bed and beneath him in one swift movement.

“Veeresh… tea will get cold,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing.

Ignoring her protest, he cupped her face and kissed her deeply, his lips warm and insistent. Pulling back slightly, he looked into her eyes and whispered, “You’re beautiful, biwi.”

Her heart fluttered at the word biwi on his lips. She smiled shyly, and he finally let her go.

After freshening up, Veeresh came downstairs, where Poornima was already busy in the kitchen, moving gracefully between the stove and the counter. She served breakfast to the family, making sure Veeresh’s plate was placed before him.

He ate heartily, every now and then glancing at her with a softness that did not go unnoticed. The elders exchanged knowing looks, and her mother-in-law’s smile grew warmer.

There was something new between them now—something unspoken, yet visible in the way their eyes met, the faint blush on Poornima’s cheeks, and the quiet pride in Veeresh’s gaze.

The family didn’t need words to understand. Their children were happy.