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Simran interrupts my musings, bringing me back to reality.
“Ayaan, do you need something?” she inquires. Of course, what I need is some quality time with my wife, but I keep that to myself.
“Actually,” Simran continues, “I need to help Meher with her outfit and jewellery for the party.”
“Now?” I instantly ask.
“Yes, it will take time for us to get her ready for the party again.”
“How much time do you need?” My desperation creeps into my tone, and I think I see a hint of amusement in Meher’s eyes. Is she enjoying teasing me by keeping me away?
Simran glances at her watch and dramatically calculates the time before responding.
“Considering everything, I think it’ll take about two to three hours. And remember, you both need to be downstairs for the after-party. So, I don’t think you’ll get a chance to be alone with Meher until the party’s over.”
That is disappointing. I can’t bear to wait for that long. Meher remains silent, seemingly enjoying my state.
“At least give us fifteen minutes,” I say, hoping she agrees, but she playfully shakes her head.
“No chance. We’re already short on time.”
I mentally chastise myself for agreeing to hold the wedding reception on the same day as the wedding itself. Simran finally bursts into laughter on seeing my disappointment and approaches me.
“I was just pulling your leg, Ayaan,” she confesses with a chuckle. “She’s all yours. Just remember not to tire her too much. She needs to look fresh for the party. And the same applies to you. So, go easy on each other, please.”
I suppress my grin, thankful for Simran’s understanding. With a smile, Simran turns to Meher.
“We’ll start getting ready around 6:00 pm. That gives you an hour to rest... or whatever plans you two have.”
Meher rolls her eyes in response to Simran’s teasing implication. With a mock salute, Simran exits the room, leaving us alone. I now have the privacy I had longed for with Meher,my Queen. I lock the door, taking a moment to appreciate her presence in my bedroom. She’s worn a light gold satin robe with the sash cinched around her waist. She’s taken a quick shower in my bathroom and has worn the sindoor and mangalsutra, enhancing her post-bath glow. Meher looks every inch the newlywed bride.
My heart races at the sight of her in that satin robe. I approach her, drawn by the longing in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I miss my family, especially my dad. All of this is so new to me,” she glances at our room and sighs. “Not that I don’t like it, but this enormous change in my life and the initial adjustment feels overwhelming. That’s why I miss Dad more,” she confides.
I reach out, drawing her into my arms.
“You’ll see your dad and your family in a couple of hours. Relax, you’re my Queen, and a Queen is always strong.”
She playfully rolls her eyes, retorting, “I think you should become the Queen in the next life, who has to leave her entire family behind and adapt to a new one. Then you’ll truly understand the feeling of being away from people you’ve shared a lifetime with.”
She punches my chest gently, fiddling with my sherwani buttons.
I understand her point. I lift her chin, and her eyes meet mine, “I won’t mind becoming the Queen as long as you are my King,” I declare.
She grins, beginning to relax. I am happy to see her loosen up. As she relaxes in my arms, I pull her even closer, and she responds by wrapping her arms around me.
“Finally,” I whisper the words that were running through my mind, “the King and Queen are inseparable. Welcome to my kingdom, which is now yours as well.”
She nods gently, her fingers curling into my shirt as she tugs me closer. “Thank you,” she whispers back.
I feign surprise, “I thought you would be throwing ‘this-is-not-a-normal-marriage-so-don’t-touch-me’tantrums.”
Meher raises her head, her expression playful.
“That’s from tomorrow. Today, I’m putting those thoughts aside to enjoy our union.”
