The morning light filtered through the dining room windows, casting long, golden rectangles across the breakfast table. It was a scene of practiced domesticity, but for Avni, every clink of a spoon against a porcelain bowl felt like a countdown. She had already called in her leave—a secret she guarded as closely as the guest list for tonight—but to the man sitting across from her, it was just another Tuesday.
Divyash was currently preoccupied with a plate of stuffed parathas, his focus so intense one might have thought he was negotiating a corporate merger rather than enjoying breakfast.
“So, what’s the grand itinerary for today, Divu?” Vivek asked, his voice carrying a playful lilt that made Avni’s heart skip. He knew, of course. They all knew.
Divyash didn't look up, tearing off a piece of buttery crust. “Same as any other year,bhai just Avni’s dragging me shopping after office, then we’re heading out for a quiet dinner. Nothing special.”
“Actually,” his father interjected, setting down the morning paper with a staged sigh of regret, “it’s a bit of a scheduling nightmare. Mr. Rao’s son is getting married today. We’ll all be heading there this evening. It’s a shame, really—if you and Avni didn't already have plans, we would have stayed back to celebrate your birthday together.”
Avni suppressed a smile. Her father-in-law was a better actor than she’d given him credit for. She checked her watch, standing abruptly to break the tension. “We should probably get moving; office calls. Bye, everybody!”
“Avni, wait,” Ridhu said, her voice gentle but firm. “Come here, I need a quick word with you in the kitchen.”
Avni followed her mother-in-law, the cool tiles of the kitchen a sharp contrast to the warm banter of the dining room. Ridhu turned to her, her expression etched with a maternal concern that Avni found hard to deflect.
“Did you invite your chacha, chachi, and the cousins?” Ridhu asked.
Avni felt a familiar tightness in her chest. She busied herself with her sleeve, avoiding Ridhu’s eyes. “No, Ma. I... I just invited my brother.”
“Beta,” Ridhu sighed, stepping closer. “You should invite them. They are standing in your parents’ place now. It won’t look right if they aren’t there for such a big celebration.”
“I know, Ma, but you know how it is,” Avni whispered, her voice laced with a history of sharp tongues and cold shoulders. “Chachi and Divyash... they don’t exactly see eye-to-eye.” It was a massive understatement. The memory of her aunt’s last outburst—the screaming, the accusations that only Vivek know—still felt like a bruised rib.
“But why?” Ridhu asked, genuinely perplexed.
“I’ll explain everything later, Ma. Truly. But I have to get him to the office now or he’ll be late.”
“Fine,” Ridhu conceded, though she didn’t look satisfied. “But please, invite them. For the sake of family.”
“Ji, Ma,” Avni murmured, making her escape toward the driveway.
The drive to the office was a comfortable routine, the hum of the engine filling the gaps in their conversation. Divyash navigated the Mumbai traffic with a relaxed hand on the wheel.
“I’ll be at your building at three sharp to pick you up,” Avni reminded him.
Divyash chuckled, glancing at her. “You know, you don’t have to do all this, Avi. A simple dinner at home would have been plenty.”
“I know I don’t have to,” she said, looking out the window to hide her grin. “But I wanted to. Consider it a tribute to my husband.”
“As you wish, Jaana,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, intimate register that always made her pulse quicken. “But you know what the best gift would be? If you called me those names you whisper when you think I’m asleep.”
Avni rolled her eyes, though a flush crept up her neck. “The world is a cruel place, Divyash. People rarely get exactly what they want.”
“Please? Just once?” He turned to her at a red light, wielding his secret weapon: the puppy-dog eyes.
“Fine, fine! But only because we’re here. Your office, sir.”
He pulled the car to the curb and waited. It had become a silent ritual—the morning goodbye. Avni leaned over, closing the distance between them. The kiss was brief but lingering, a soft promise of the evening to come.
“Enjoy your day, Dimples,” she whispered against his cheek, grazing the slight indentation that gave him his nickname.
Divyash beamed, the expression transforming his face into that of a thrilled schoolboy. He hopped out of the car, grabbing his laptop bag and waving to her from the glass doors of the lobby like a teenager watching his crush drive away.
Inside the office, the air was thick with conspiracy. Every colleague who stopped by his desk to offer a "Happy Birthday" did so with a twinkle in their eye. They knew about the ballroom, the flowers, and the hidden champagne. But, true to their word to Avni, they played their parts to perfection.
At 3:00 PM, the trap was sprung.
Avni was waiting at the curb, and within minutes, they were navigating toward the high-end districts of the city. When she pulled up in front of a boutique whose name was synonymous with Italian silk and bespoke tailoring, Divyash balked.
“Avi,” he whispered as they crossed the threshold, his eyes widening at the price tags. “My usual shop is just three blocks away. This place is... aggressive.”
“Relax, Divyash. It’s a birthday gift. Besides,” she squeezed his hand, “I have a surprise waiting.”
The store manager approached them with the silent grace of a ghost. “Good afternoon. Everything is prepped for the fitting, Ma’am.”
“Fitting?” Divyash turned to her. “Avni, what did you do?”
“You look incredible in a tux, and your current one is looking a bit tired. I ordered a few custom pieces. Now, no more talking. Go.” She gave him a firm nudge toward the dressing rooms.
For the next hour, a parade of charcoal wool, midnight blue silk, and crisp white linen ensued. Avni watched from a velvet armchair, critiquing the drape of a shoulder or the break of a trouser. Divyash, initially hesitant, began to enjoy the sheer luxury of it. He looked like a man meant for power—sharp, elegant, and devastatingly handsome.
“Keep the tuxedo on,” she commanded as he emerged for the final time. “We’re going straight to dinner.”
“Avi, I look like I’m about to have an audience with the President,” he teased, checking his reflection. “Though, considering my wife is just as important, I suppose the attire is appropriate.”
“If you’re quite finished being a comedian, we should go,” she replied, though she couldn't stop looking at him.
As they reached the hotel—one of Mumbai’s most storied five-star landmarks—the valet took the keys, and Divyash’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.
“I feel like a sugar baby,” he murmured as they walked through the marble lobby. “Should I be worried about your bank account, or are you secretly a mogul?”
Avni stopped in her tracks, fixing him with a mock-stern glare. “Do you want to go home? I can turn this car around right now. You are my husband, Dimples. If I want to spend my hard-earned money on you, I will. Now, hush.”
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m all yours. Spend away.”
“Good,” she said, reaching into her clutch and pulling out a strip of dark silk. “Now, close your eyes. It’s time for the final act.”
“A blindfold? Avni, I have no idea where we are going.”
“Oh, shut up and trust me, will you?” She tied the knot behind his head, took his hand, and led him toward the elevators, the secret finally ready to be revealed.
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