Next morning;

The golden morning light flooded the hospital room, carrying with it a sense of finality and a new beginning. 

Aryan was busy finalizing the discharge paperwork, while inside the room, a small circle of friendship was holding onto its last few moments.

Reeva sat close to the bed, clutching Anjali's hand tightly.

 "Yaha se jaane ke baad tu mujhe bhool toh nahi jayegi?" she asked, her voice trembling with the fear of a looming distance.

Anjali offered a weak but genuine smile, placing her other hand over Reeva's.

 "Apne parivar ko bhala koi bhulta hai kya?"

Reeva's eyes glistened as she leaned in and kissed Anjali's forehead. Anjali immediately pulled back with a playful look of mock disgust. 

"Hatt lesbo!" she teased, and they both burst into a fit of much-needed laughter.

Jay was sitting by the window, staring out at the mountains. Anjali called out to him,

 "Jay? Jay?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, not turning around.

Reeva looked at his back and then at Anjali, whispering loudly, 

"Lagta hai Koi ro raha hai?"

"Main kyun rounga? Main mard hoon," Jay snapped, his voice sounding suspiciously thick.

"Oho, mujhe laga tu ro raha hoga... teri crime partner jo jaa rahi hai," Reeva poked him.

Jay finally turned around, and the girls saw his face—it was drenched in tears.

 Giving up the act, he rushed to the bed and gave Anjali a quick, brotherly hug. 

"Haan, main ro raha hoon, theek hai?"

Anjali chuckled, patting his arm. "Par maine suna mard rote nahi?"

Jay sniffed, wiping his eyes. "main aurat hoon, khush?"

The room erupted in laughter again. "Acha bas kar, teri naak beh rahi hai!" Anjali joked, ruffling his hair while Jay pouted and rubbed his nose. 

Reeva stood back, her eyes softening as she admired the raw, honest heart Jay hid behind his tough exterior.

A nurse walked in shortly after. "Ma'am, time to change for discharge."

Anjali nodded, but a specific thought crossed her mind.

 She was returning to her home, her sasural, and her heart craved to feel like the Anjali Taneja she used to be.

"Aapko saree pehnani aati hai?" she asked hopefully.

The nurse shook her head. "Sorry, ma'am." Anjali looked at Reeva, who also shook her head.

Disappointed but understanding, Anjali sighed. 

Since jeans would be too difficult with her stitches, she settled for a simple frock. 

What she didn't know was that a pair of ears had caught her request from just outside the door.

Aryan stood in the hallway, a small, knowing smile creeping onto his face.

 He understood her urge to reclaim her identity. He immediately made a call, and within ten minutes, a man arrived with a premium parcel.

Aryan took the box and ducked into a nearby private restroom. 

He locked the door and pulled out his phone. His search history now included: 

"How to drape a saree." He opened the parcel to find a breathtaking red silk saree.

 He sighed, looking at the long fabric.

"Business deals se zyada mushkil kaam toh ye lag raha hai... Okay Aryan, focus."

He played the video and actually began attempting to drape the saree over his own trousers to practice the pleats.

He scratched his head, struggling with the tucking and the alignment,

 but on the third try, he managed a perfect set of pleats.

He clapped his hands softly in victory. 

"Mujhe toh saree ki dukaan khol leni chaiye is point pe"

He packed it back perfectly and walked into Anjali's room. 

Jay and Reeva were sitting on the couch, and Anjali was sitting on the edge of the bed in her frock.

Aryan sat beside her, his eyes twinkling. "Jaan... tumhe saree pehni thi?"

Anjali's eyes widened with a sudden shine. "Haan! Par... tumhe kaise pata?"

"Meri biwi ki mann ki baat bhi na samjhu toh kaisa pati?" He pulled out the box and opened it. Anjali gasped; the red silk was exquisite. But then, her face fell again. 

"Par Aryan... yahan kisi ko saree pehnani nahi aati. Aur mujhe khud se phenane nahi de rahe doctors."

Aryan cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of Jay and Reeva. 

"Kisne kaha yahan kisi ko nahi aati, hmm? Tumhare pati ko aati hai."

Anjali's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Hain?"

Aryan nodded with a confident, bright smile.

 He turned to Reeva and Jay, but before he could even open his mouth to ask for privacy, Reeva was already standing up, dragging Jay by his arm.

"Haan haan, samajh gaye! Itna romantic mahaul hai, hum yahan 'kebab mein haddi' nahi banenge," Reeva teased, winking at Anjali. 

"Jay, chal! Inka 'Romance' shuru hone wala hai. Humein toh koi saree pehnane se raha, kam se kam canteen mein samosa hi khila de!"

Reeva dragged a blushing Jay out of the room, leaving Anjali stunned and Aryan looking at her with a mischievous, loving gaze.

The click of the lock echoed softly in the quiet room, a final barrier between them and the rest of the world.

 Aryan moved with a quiet, focused grace, drawing the heavy curtains until the room was bathed in a soft, diffused glow. He turned back to her, the red saree draped over his arm like a river of silk.

Anjali stood with the support of bed, her heart racing. 

She felt a strange, beautiful nervousness, like a bride on her wedding night all over again.

"Tum sach mein kar loge?" she whispered, her eyes searching his.

Aryan didn't answer with words. 

He stepped into her personal space, the scent of his cologne mixing with the lilies in the room.

 He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gather the fabric.

"Mujh pe bharosa hai" he murmured, as anjali nodded. 

"Toh bus dekhti jao"

He began the process with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes. 

As he knelt slightly to tuck the first fold into the waistband of her underskirt, his knuckles brushed against her skin.

The contact sent a jolt of electricity through them both. 

Anjali placed her hands on his shoulders for support, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he moved around her, circling her like she was the center of his universe.

The room was silent except for the rustle of silk and the sound of their synchronized breathing.

 Aryan's focus was absolute.  he looked at her like a masterpiece he was finally allowed to touch again.

When it came time for the pleats, he remembered the video, his fingers working carefully to align the silk. 

He gathered them one by one, his face inches from hers. Anjali looked down at his bowed head, watching the way he bit his lip in concentration.

"Ho gaya," he whispered, looking up. His face was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

He stood up to drape the pallu over her shoulder. As he adjusted the  embroidered border, 

his fingers lingered near her neck. He didn't pull away. Instead, he let his hand rest there, his thumb softly tracing the line of her jaw.

"Ab lag rahi ho..." he breathed, his eyes dark with a divine kind of longing. 

"Meri jana.. meri mrs taneja"

Anjali felt a tear slip down her cheek.

Aryan reached out and wiped the tear away with his thumb.

 He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, their noses brushing.

"Mai bahut pyaar karta hoon tumse jaan" he whispered against her lips.

"lekin ye sirf pyaar nahi,ye meri rooh ka tumse kiya hua vada hai.Tum meri zindagi ki voh kahani ho jo mai har roz jeena chahta hoon,wo dua ho jo mai har roz mangata hoon..tum meri duniya ka noor ho,meri raton ka chaand ,meri subah ki pheli roshni.Tum sirf meri mohabaat nahi,Mera bhagwan ho..jiske liye mai apni saari zindagi bhi kurbaan kar doon,phir bhi kam lage."

Anjali's heart felt like it was overflowing. 

She pulled back slightly, her hands still framing his face, her thumbs wiping away the stray tears that had escaped his eyes. 

A small, playful glint entered her gaze, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere of their shared devotion.

"Chaar saal mein bade filmy ho gaye ho, Mr. Taneja," she whispered with a shaky smile.

Aryan chuckled, the sound deep and rich, vibrating in his chest. 

He caught her hand and pressed a lingering kiss into the center of her palm. "Filmy nahi, Jaan... bas ek tute hue insaan se ek mukammal insaan ban gaya hoon. Aur filmy kyu na hoon? Meri heroine char saal baad jo wapas aayi hai."

He straightened up, his eyes sweeping over her in the red silk saree.

 He looked at her with such pride, such pure adoration, that she felt like she was glowing from within.

"Vaise theek ho jao... phir batata hoon ki romantic bhi bahut ho gaya hoon," he teased, his voice dropping to a velvety, mischievous register that made her blush a deep crimson.

  "Itna waqt jo waste kiya hai humne, uska saara hisaab bhi toh lagana padega na."

Anjali laughed, a clear, beautiful sound that felt like the final piece of the puzzle falling into place.

"Acha? Dekhenge hum bhi ki Aryan Taneja kitne romantic hue hain."

"Challenge kar rahi ho?" Aryan raised an eyebrow, stepping even closer until the tips of his shoes touched the hem of her saree.

"Saree pehnana toh bas trailer tha, Mrs. Taneja. Puri picture abhi baaki hai."

They both chuckled, the lighthearted banter acting as the perfect bridge between their painful past and their hopeful future.

For a moment, they just stood there, swaying slightly in each other's personal space, 

enjoying the simple, divine luxury of being together without a monster lurking in the shadows.

"Chalein?" he asked softly, extending his arm.

Anjali took it, leaning her weight against him. 

"Chalo... mujhe apne ghar jana hai. Hamare ghar."

Aryan nodded, his hand covering hers on his arm. "Chaloo..humari beti humara intezaar kar rahi hai."