Fifteen days passed, and Shreya never came to the anniversary celebration. The family's quiet hopes had dimmed in her absence.

That morning, Sarita went to the temple with Vihaan. By coincidence, Shreya arrived there too, accompanied by her parents. The moment Sarita saw her, she seized the chance. Smiling warmly, she walked straight over and greeted Shreya first, then her parents with equal courtesy.

They returned the greeting politely, though they assumed this was only a passing acquaintance of their daughter.

It was Shreya who explained, "She is the one who had left her purse in the temple last time. I happened to return it to her."

Her parents nodded with understanding, their faces relaxing into smiles. Sarita, however, was quietly amazed—Shreya had mentioned nothing more to them than that small incident. She kept her thoughts to herself and instead began to converse casually with the family, asking about their work, their life, and their routines. With genuine warmth, she added, "You really have a wonderful daughter. She is polite, well-mannered, and carries herself so gracefully."

Just then, Shreya's phone rang. Excusing herself, she stepped away to take her friend's call. Sarita watched her go before turning to her parents with gentle purpose.

She asked softly, "If you don't mind me asking, have you begun thinking about her marriage yet? "

They exchanged a quick glance, then answered, "She still has time. As of now, we haven't thought about it."

Sarita nodded, then spoke with quiet conviction. "I have a wish... I would love for your daughter to become my daughter-in-law."

Their eyes flickered toward Vihaan, who stood nearby. Sarita quickly clarified, smiling, "Oh no, not him. I am speaking of my elder son. He is well settled, hardworking, studied abroad, and now runs our business. We want him to be married, and we truly liked your daughter."

Shreya's mother hesitated. "There is no rush. And honestly, her cousins are older than her. They will be married first. Only then we'll think of her."

Her father said, "We will not force her for anything and she can take her time."

Sarita's smile remained calm. "That is all fine. We don't want to hurry you. But at least, meet my son once. I won't force you—ever. I only ask that you see him with your own eyes. We liked your daughter so much, and we hope you'll give us this chance."

Her sincerity was difficult to resist. At last, her parents nodded. "Yes."

Relief and gratitude lit Sarita's face. "Thank you," she said warmly. "Please come to Vaidehi's birthday party. It is after 2 days. You can meet Reyan there and decide for yourselves."

By then, Shreya had returned from her call. Goodbyes were exchanged, and before leaving, Sarita clasped Shreya's hand with a playful firmness. "You must come to the birthday party with your parents. No excuses this time."

Guilt flickered in Shreya's eyes, but she still murmured softly, "Yes."

When they returned home, that small promise sat heavily in her chest.

That night, over dinner, Shreya's parents brought up the conversation they had with Sarita at the temple. Her father set down his spoon and exchanged a glance with her mother before saying gently, "She spoke about your marriage today."

Shreya paused, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass of water. She had known this topic would return sooner or later. With a calm tone, she answered as she always did, "I need time. My brother is yet to graduate. It will take at least another year for him to get well settled in a job. Until then, I will not think about marriage. If I marry now, I will always be worried about him and about you both. I will never be able to give my hundred percent to marriage. So please, don't rush me—give me time."

Her mother sighed softly but nodded, her father agreeing as well. In truth, they too felt the same—rushing into marriage now would be unwise.

But then her father added, "Still, Sarita ji was clear—she only asked that we meet her son once. Nothing more. Perhaps we should not refuse outright. We can go to the birthday party, meet him, and then decide."

Her mother agreed after a pause, though reluctance still lingered in her tone. "Yes, it would not be polite to refuse completely. Meeting someone does not mean committing."

Shreya listened quietly, guilt stirring in her chest. She had not expected things to reach this point. Yet, with her decision firm in her heart, she gave a faint nod and said no more.

Shreya listened quietly, guilt stirring in her chest. She had not expected things to reach this point. Yet, with her decision firm in her heart, she gave a faint nod and said no more.

Shreya lowered her gaze to her plate, her mind already heavy. She did not want to go, but now that her parents had agreed, they would insist she accompany them. There would be no escape.

With that troublingthought pressing down on her, she excused herself early, retreating to herroom. Sleep came slowly, weighed with unease, and at last, she drifted off—herheart unwilling, but her path already set.

The next day, Vihan called to extend the invitation. Shreya, still uneasy about the upcoming party, asked him softly what she should bring as a gift. He brushed it off at first, insisting there was no need. But when she pressed, he finally relented and said, "Vaidehi likes anklets or earrings, maybe."

She decided on the spot that she would buy one. Yet her thoughts wandered stubbornly. She likes anklets too much. Shreya did not wear them herself, though she had always wanted to. Now, with money of her own, she still could not bring herself to purchase them. A quiet longing tugged at her—she had wanted her first pair to be a gift, perhaps from someone special, though she never admitted it aloud. But this was foolishness, she told herself. She should not attach meaning to such small things, not to anyone. No... I'll buy earrings for Vaidehi, and anklets for myself.

Meanwhile, Vaidehi had already told her family exactly what she wanted so no one would repeat gifts, as they once had with Vihan. On his birthday, Reyan and Sarita Aunty had given him a black Fortuner, and the rest had arrived with similar ideas. To avoid such chaos, Vaidehi now declared her wish openly: a necklace to match her new lehenga. She described its shade and embroidery in detail and had even asked Reyan directly. He had said nothing, but inside, he cherished his cousins—especially Saumya and Vaidehi—with a quiet, steadfast affection.

That evening, after finishing work, Shreya went straight to the mall, heading to the jewelry section. She first purchased a pair of elegant earrings and asked the salesperson to wrap them as a gift. Then, hesitating only a moment, she asked to see anklets.

On the other side of the counter, Reyan had arrived as well. He had shown the staff a picture of Vaidehi's lehenga and asked them to bring him the best matching neckpieces. As he waited, scrolling idly through his phone, he heard a soft, melodic voice nearby.

He looked up.

She was there—standing just beside him, not close enough to notice him, yet close enough for him to see her clearly. His breath caught. It was not that she was extraordinarily beautiful in that moment, though she was. It was something else—something in her presence—that gripped him. He could not look away.

The salesperson began showing her anklets—thick, golden ones first, studded with tiny bells. "These are beautiful, madam," he assured her.

But Shreya shook her head almost instantly. "No. Only silver, please. Something delicate." Her voice was calm, confident, unyielding.

Reyan's chest tightened. If only she knew—I would give her gold, diamonds, everything, if only to see her smile. Why does she turn them away so easily, as if she deserves less? She deserves so much more. Why is she rejecting gold directly?

He forced himself to look back at his phone, pretending disinterest. But his mind refused to settle.

She continued examining anklets, rejecting several more with the same soft firmness. "Too heavy... too noisy," she murmured. I want something delicate, something that doesn't make much sound.

For fifteen long minutes, she searched, her brow furrowed in quiet focus, until at last her face softened. A small smile broke across her lips when she found the one she liked. Reyan noticed it instantly. It was nothing grand—just the faintest curve of her mouth—but to him it was radiant, disarming. His heart felt strangely light.

"Pack this one," she said.

At that moment, the salesperson returned with two or three necklaces for him to examine. But Reyan barely glanced at them. He was too captivated. Her voice, her gestures, even the way she leaned ever so slightly forward as she studied the delicate silver chain—it all stirred something he could not name.

What is this feeling? he wondered. His mind, so often crowded with tension and responsibilities, felt utterly blank. No thoughts of the past. No worries of the future. Only peace.

He told the salesperson to pack all the necklaces without further discussion.

As he turned, he saw her at the counter, making her payment. She was polite, almost reserved, yet her manner held a warmth that felt unguarded. She carried herself with strength, but behind it he glimpsed something tender, childlike, pure.

And in that instant, an unfamiliar ache rose in his chest. Why did she seem so delicate to him? Why did he feel the sudden urge to shield her from every harm, to keep her close, to make her smile again and again?

He did not know.

But when she turned and began to leave, his gaze followed her—drawn, unbroken, unwilling to let her go.

She walked away, her footsteps fading into the hum of the mall. Reyan's eyes lingered on the spot where she had stood, his mind caught in an unfamiliar silence. A thought pressed against him, sharp and unsettling. But she didn't even glance at me. Why? Am I that insignificant? Everywhere I go, people notice, people look, people pay attention... His jaw tightened, the question burning deeper. But she did not spare me a glance.

***