The morning air was crisp as they pulled up to the curb of Divyansh’s office. He turned to his wife, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"I’m heading in," he said, reaching for the door handle. "Have a productive day. Text me when you get to your office, and please—don’t worry about picking me up this evening. I’ll manage."
Avni leaned over from the driver’s seat, her eyes lingering on him. "Take care of yourself, and don't overwork. I’ve already arranged for the driver to bring you home, so there's no need to 'manage' anything. And text me after lunch."
She waited until he reached the glass doors of the building, offering a final wave before pulling back into the stream of traffic.
Divyansh exhaled a long breath as he stepped into the elevator. "It’s going to be a long day," he muttered to himself. He had barely settled into his cubicle when a colleague leaned over the partition with a smirk.
"So, how’s the married life, Divyansh? Or should I say, how’s the 'jackpot' life? We all heard you married the heir to the Riwaaz empire."
Divyansh didn’t look up from his screen, though his jaw tightened. "It’s been a week, so far so good. And for the record, I married Avni. Just because she owns Riwaaz doesn't mean I own a share. She’s my wife, not my personal bank."
"Hey, just a joke, man," the colleague held up his hands. "No need to get defensive. It’s just... must be nice to have a wife who brings home that kind of success."
"Maybe," Divyansh replied, his voice clipped. "But I’d rather talk about the project files than my wife’s net worth. Let’s see the progress report. I’d like to finish my work before the boss decides to fire me—I’m not quite ready to ask my wife for a job yet." He punctuated the remark with a dry laugh, though his eyes immediately darted to his phone, hoping for a notification.
Across the city at the Riwaaz headquarters, the atmosphere was far more frantic. Avni had barely reached her desk when a sharp knock sounded.
"May I, Ma’am?" Priya, her assistant, entered with a stack of folders and an apologetic smile.
"Come in, Priya. Give me the updates," Avni said, quickly typing a single word—Reached—to Divyansh before setting her phone face down.
"Everything is moving according to schedule," Priya reported. "The negotiations for the product launch are stable. Avyansh Sir is handling the logistics, but he needs your final sign-off on the proposal report."
Avni took the file, leaning back in her chair. "Good. And how have you been, Priya? Was the office a little more peaceful while I was away?"
Priya laughed nervously. "To be honest, it was a headache. We missed you. And you know Avyansh Sir... his temper can be a lot more 'handful' than yours."
Avni raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Are you implying that I am a handful, Priya?"
Priya paled, stammering out a denial just as the door swung open without a knock. It was Avyansh.
"You’re finally back!" he exclaimed, crossing the room in two strides to pull his sister into a hug. "I’ve been drowning in these deals, Di. And more importantly, how are you? Is Divyansh treating you right? Give me the word and I'll go knock some sense into him."
"Relax, little brother," Avni smiled, patting his arm. "I’m fine, and he’s being wonderful. Don’t you dare lay a finger on him. I missed you too."
Avyansh dropped into the chair across from her, his expression souring. "Fine, I’ll leave the husband alone. But home is a different story. Chachi is already trying to turn your old room into a 'gaming lounge' for Amol. That kid doesn't even study! I know you told me to keep the peace, but if they touch your things, I’m going to lose it."
Avni sighed, her heart aching for her brother’s frustration. "Let it go, Avyansh. I don't care about that house anymore. Honestly? I think it’s time you found your own place. Somewhere closer to the office. If you stay there, you’ll just keep fighting, and I want you to be happy."
Avyansh looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "You’re right. I’d go mad if I stayed. I’ll start looking today. Anyway, I have a meeting to get to." He stood up, casting a lingering glance at Priya before heading for the door. "Bye, Di."
"He never could keep a cool head," Avni murmured, turning her attention back to the mountain of paperwork.
The afternoon dragged for Divyansh. He kept looking at his phone, staring at that solitary word: Reached. No heart, no emoji, just a status update. A week into marriage, and he found himself overanalyzing five letters.
By lunchtime, he was hovering over his keyboard.
Did you eat? (Too mothering. Deleted.)
Miss you. (Too needy. Deleted.)
I just had lunch. (Who cares? Deleted.)
Suddenly, his phone buzzed. A message from Avni: How is your day, Mr. Singh? Have you eaten yet?
A ridiculous, uncontrollable grin spread across his face. He typed back instantly: It was a struggle until five seconds ago. Just about to head to lunch now.
You and your charm, she replied. Eat well. I have a meeting in five, then I’ll grab a bite. The driver will be there at six. Take care.
You too, he sent. He leaned back, the weight of the morning lifting. Maybe he did overthink things, but he didn't care. He just wanted the clock to strike six.
When the workday finally ended, Divyansh walked out with his colleagues, scanning the row of cars.
"Need a lift, Divyansh?" one asked.
"No, I have a ride coming, thanks."
"Well," his friend nudged him, pointing toward the curb. "Looks like your 'driver' is a lot prettier than usual today."
Divyansh looked up and saw Avni leaning against her car, looking effortlessly elegant. He hurried toward her, leaving his laughing friends behind.
"I thought the driver was coming?" he asked, breathless.
"He was," she said, pulling him into the shade of the car door. "But I finished early and decided I’d rather surprise my husband myself. Get in."
"You're driving?"
"I'm driving," she affirmed, handing him the keys anyway as she walked to the passenger side.
Divyansh climbed into the driver's seat, his face flushed with a mixture of pride and affection. He glanced at her as he started the engine. "You should surprise me more often, Mrs. Singh."
"Drive the car, Divyansh," she teased, but she didn't stop smiling all the way home.
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