The morning air in Mumbai carried the scent of jasmine and sandalwood.
The Sign mansion had never looked more alive.
Marigold garlands draped the pillars.
Soft shehnai music echoed through the halls.
Guests arrived in silks and jewels, whispers following them like shadows.
This wedding was not just a union.
It was an event.
Najma sat quietly in front of the mirror.
She wore a deep red lehenga embroidered with gold—heavy, regal, breathtaking.
Saraswati stood behind her, hands trembling slightly as she adjusted Najma's dupatta.
"You look beautiful," Saraswati whispered.
Najma met her reflection.
Beautiful.
The word felt strange.
She wasn't nervous.
She was… steady.
Twinkle burst into the room, already dressed in yellow, glowing with excitement.
"My sister is getting married!" she squealed. "Do you know Ranveer hasn't smiled once today?"
Najma allowed herself a small smile. "That's normal for him."
Twinkle leaned closer. "But when he looks at you… it's different."
Najma didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
Outside, Ranveer stood near the mandap.
He wore an ivory sherwani, his posture straight, expression unreadable.
But his fingers clenched slightly at his side.
He had agreed to this marriage for duty.
For family.
Yet his chest felt heavier than expected.
The music changed.
"Here comes the bride."
Najma stepped forward.
The crowd went silent.
Ranveer looked up—
And forgot how to breathe.
She walked with calm grace, eyes lowered, strength radiating quietly.
Not fragile.
Not hesitant.
Unshakable.
For the first time in years, something stirred in him that had nothing to do with power.
She sat beside him.
Their hands brushed.
Electric.
Brief.
Intentional.
The priest began the rituals.
Fire crackled between them.
Sacred.
Witnessing.
"Do you accept this union?" the priest asked Ranveer.
"Yes," he replied firmly.
"Do you accept this union?" the priest asked Najma.
She paused for half a second.
Then spoke clearly.
"Yes."
Seven steps around the fire.
Seven promises.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
When the sindoor touched her hairline, Najma didn't flinch.
When the mangalsutra settled against her skin, she didn't tremble.
But when Ranveer tied it—
His hand lingered.
Just a second longer than necessary.
Najma felt it.
So did he.
Applause erupted.
Cheers followed.
The strongest man in the Sign family was married.
Inside the mansion, during the griha pravesh, Najma paused at the entrance.
Sasha stepped forward, holding the kalash.
"From today," she said calmly, "this is your home."
Najma looked at her.
Respect passed between them.
Deep.
Unspoken.
That night, in their room, silence settled between them.
Not awkward.
Not tense.
Just… unfamiliar.
Ranveer loosened his collar.
"You don't have to be afraid," he said.
Najma met his gaze.
"I'm not."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Surprise.