The sun hung high now, almost noon, its golden rays streaming through the sheer curtains of their room and spilling onto the floor like liquid light. The warmth of the late morning filled the air—soft, a little lazy, as if the world itself had slowed down to savor the day. Outside, the faint sounds of neighbors talking, birds calling from the trees, and the occasional honk from the street reminded Shruti that the world was wide awake, even if she and Arjun were only now stepping into it.
She walked behind him, still blinking against the brightness, adjusting her dupatta over the light pink kurti and jeans she'd thrown on in a rush. The breeze ruffled the ends of her hair, bringing with it the scent of earth and distant flowers.
Arjun strode ahead, keys jingling in his hand as he approached the garage. She expected him to head for the bike—the sleek Duke she'd seen him with before. But instead, he fished out another key, one she hadn't noticed before, and clicked a button.
The sharp, familiar click of a central lock unlocking broke the quiet, followed by a soft, mechanical hum. To her right, a beast of a vehicle stirred—a black Thar, its polished body glinting under the sun like onyx. It stood broad-shouldered and proud, a strange contrast against the sleepy charm of their neighborhood.
Shruti blinked, shielding her eyes from the glare bouncing off its glossy surface. "Wait… what?" she said, confused and amused. "We're not taking the bike?"
Arjun turned to her, that boyish grin spreading across his face as he caught the keys mid-air after a lazy toss. His eyes danced with mischief. "Because, madam," he said, drawing out the words like he was announcing some grand plan, "today is big shopping day. Do you want me to balance all your bags on the bike? Or should we carry them on our heads like village folk?"
Shruti burst out laughing, the sound light and genuine. "Excuse me! Who said they're my bags? You're the one insisting I need a whole wardrobe!"
He smirked, walking around to open the passenger door for her with a small bow. "Because you do. And because, as your husband, it is my solemn duty to ensure you don't walk into college looking like you're dressed for a family pooja every day."
She mock-glared at him as she slid into the passenger seat. "Rude! This is perfectly normal attire, thank you very much."
He chuckled as he rounded the car and got into the driver's seat, the Thar's door closing with a deep, satisfying thud. Inside, the car smelled faintly of leather and the woody hint of his cologne.
Shruti glanced around at the interior—the black-and-chrome dashboard, the clean seats, the soft hum of the AC kicking in. It felt... well, fancy.
She turned to him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Okay, I have to ask. Exactly how many vehicles do you have, mister?"
Arjun shot her a sideways look, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Hmm… why? Are you planning to write a biography on me? Or just making a list to figure out how rich I am?"
She rolled her eyes. "No! Just curious. First the Duke, now this monster of a car… what's next? A yacht parked in the backyard?"
That made him laugh—a warm, easy sound that filled the space between them. He started the engine, and the Thar came alive with a throaty purr.
"Who knows," he said, pulling out of the gate, "stick around long enough, and I might just show you my secret helicopter."
Shruti shook her head, grinning as the Thar rolled smoothly onto the main road. The world outside bustled with life, but inside the car, it felt like it was just the two of them—bantering, laughing, sharing this small, unexpected adventure.
And for the first time in a long while, Shruti realized she wasn't nervous about what the day would bring. Not with him beside her.
---
The mall buzzed with weekday energy—families trailing children who darted toward colorful toy kiosks, couples sharing soft conversations over shared ice creams, groups of teens laughing as they posed for selfies. The high ceiling reflected the hum of it all, the ambient music mingling with the murmur of voices and the occasional beep of billing counters. The air smelled of caramel popcorn, brewed coffee, and the faint metallic tang of the escalator rails.
Arjun's hand wrapped gently around Shruti's, his thumb brushing over the back of her fingers in a soothing, absent-minded rhythm. He walked beside her with a calm purpose, his gaze occasionally flicking toward her face when she wasn't looking.
When they entered the first store—a massive clothing outlet with glowing signage and polished floors—Shruti instinctively slowed, a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place and the endless racks of clothes in every imaginable color.
"Arjun… are you sure about this much shopping? I really don't—"
"Hmm?" he interrupted, glancing at her with an expression of mock innocence. "You're not going to back out now, are you? We're already here."
Before she could protest again, he steered her gently toward the women's section. The staff approached with eager smiles, but Arjun gave them a polite nod. "We'll look around a bit first," he said.
Shruti's fingers drifted along a rack of soft cotton chudidars in pastel hues—mint green, baby pink, cream, and sky blue. She sighed softly. "These feel nice. Simple. Comfortable."
Arjun grinned. "Then try them." Without waiting, he started pulling out pieces in various shades.
But he didn't stop there.
Shruti's eyes widened as she watched him wander farther down the aisle. He grabbed jeans—both dark and light wash—then tunics, flared tops, elegant kurtas with intricate embroidery, a few long western gowns in flowing fabrics, and even a couple of formal blazers.
"Arjun!" she half-laughed, half-scolded, hurrying after him. "What are you doing? I can't wear all these! I won't even have the occasions for half of them."
"You'll find occasions," he said simply, piling the clothes into the arms of an amused staff member.
"I thought you were supposed to be the quiet type!" she teased, hands on her hips.
He smirked, leaning closer so only she could hear. "Only until I start shopping. And especially for you."
Her cheeks flushed, but she shook her head, smiling despite herself.
When the trial room was ready, Arjun sank onto a nearby chair, watching her disappear behind the curtain with the first armful of clothes.
One by one, she stepped out.
First, a pale peach chudidar that softened her entire face. Arjun's heart stilled for a beat.
Then, a fitted navy kurta paired with leggings that brought out the glow of her skin.
"Beautiful," he said under his breath before he could stop himself.
Shruti heard him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink. "You're just saying that."
"I'm not." His voice was quieter now, more genuine. "You are."
She stepped back inside, flustered, and tried on a western-style long gown—a deep burgundy that hugged her waist before falling in soft waves to her ankles. When she emerged this time, Arjun sat up straighter, eyes wide, breath caught.
To himself, he thought, How does she look good in everything?
And it continued—each outfit a new revelation. A simple kurti with jeans. A soft cream formal blouse paired with tailored trousers. A skirt and top combo she'd never have picked herself.
And when she hesitated at the last one—a delicate saree in pale pink with a silver border—Arjun noticed.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," he said gently.
But she bit her lip. "I'll try it."
When she stepped out draped in it, the staff watching with subtle smiles, Arjun forgot to breathe for a second. The soft pleats, the way the pallu fell across her arm, the way she kept fidgeting with it, not quite used to the fabric—it all made her look achingly beautiful.
"You're staring," she said, her voice small.
He blinked, realizing he was. "Can't help it."
Shruti's heart stuttered. She looked away, pretending to study the mirror. "You're strange," she muttered, but there was laughter in her voice.
Arjun stood, stepping closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "You're stunning. In every single thing you wore today. And I mean that."
Her breath hitched.
They stood there, a quiet bubble in the middle of the store's bustle, until the staff gently asked, "Shall I pack these, sir?"
Arjun didn't look away from Shruti as he said, "All of them."
"Arjun—"
"All of them," he repeated softly, eyes never leaving hers.
She stared at the growing pile of bags in disbelief.
"Arjun…"
"No arguing," he said. "I told you. You're not going to college wearing just three old kurtis."
Shruti could only shake her head, lips curving into the softest, most helpless smile as her heart raced in ways she wasn't ready to name yet.
To be continued...