The hallway was a sanctuary of shadows, smelling faintly of expensive floor wax and the heady, floral perfume of lilies that Avni had insisted on placing in every corner. The silence of the house felt heavy, charged with a secret energy that made Avni’s pulse drum against her ribs. She gripped Divyansh’s hand, her fingers small and warm against his skin, guiding him with a gentle, deliberate pace.
Beside her, Divyansh walked with the awkward, hesitant gait of a man robbed of his sight. The velvet blindfold she had tied—tight enough to hold, soft enough to feel like a caress—pressed against his eyes. He was a man usually in total control, a CEO who navigated boardrooms with a single glance, but here, he was entirely at her mercy.
"We’re almost there, Divyansh," she whispered. Her voice was a low, melodic vibration in the quiet air, a balm to the confusion he’d been voicing for the last ten minutes. "I’m going to remove the blindfold now. Be ready... for the one thing you never saw coming."
She stepped behind him, her own breath catching in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she found the silk knot, the fabric slick and cool. She could feel the heat radiating from his shoulders, the tension in his frame.
"One... two... three."
She pulled the silk away.
For a heartbeat, the world was nothing but a chaotic blur of golden chandelier light and a sudden, deafening wall of sound. Then, the house erupted. A chorus of "Happy Birthday!" crashed over him, echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings and vibrating through the floorboards.
Divyansh stood frozen, his eyes wide and blinking as they adjusted to the brilliance of the room. His gaze swept across the crowd like a man waking from a dream. He saw his parents, their faces softened by a rare, genuine glow of pride; he saw Rishabh, leaning against a pillar with a grin that could light up a city; and finally, his gaze found its anchor.
Avni.
She was standing just a step away, her hands clasped in front of her, watching him with a raw, vulnerable anticipation. Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth, a nervous habit that made his chest tighten. She looked like she was holding her breath, waiting for his permission to be happy.
"Did you like it?" she asked, her voice barely a thread of sound beneath the rising chatter of the guests.
"It’s the biggest surprise anyone has ever given me, Avi," Divyansh replied. His voice was thick, anchored by an emotion so heavy it threatened to pull him under. "Thank you."
He felt a strange, overwhelming pressure behind his ribs. For years, he had operated under the assumption that he was a man who required nothing—no fuss, no accolades, no grand gestures. He didn't know whether to let a laugh break through or succumb to the sting behind his eyelids; he was simply drowning in the unexpected warmth of being loved.
Rishabh broke the spell, moving forward and clapping a heavy, joyful hand on Divyansh's shoulder. "Alright, enough with the dramatics! Let’s go cut the cake, birthday boy. The guest of honor shouldn't be hiding in the doorway all night."
As Rishabh steered him toward the center of the room where a towering, ornate cake waited, Divyansh realized he still hadn't let go of Avni’s hand. In fact, he tightened his grip, pulling her along with him. In this room full of people, she was his only north star. He didn't want to leave her side—not for a second.
The room became a kaleidoscope of movement. Divyansh moved through the rituals of the night with a surreal sense of joy. He cut the cake, the silver blade sliding through the rich frosting, and offered the first bite to his mother, whose eyes shimmered with a softness he hadn't seen in years. He shared a laugh with Rishabh and Kanika, the wine flowing as freely as the conversation, but his eyes were a compass, always swinging back to find Avni.
Colleagues from the office approached him, their usual professional masks replaced by celebratory grins. Even Aryansh made a brief, theatrical appearance, leaning in to whisper a playful threat about "not messing with his sister" before vanishing back into the crowd of socialites.
Amidst the swirling gowns and clinking glasses, Divyansh noticed a sudden void. His brother, who had been standing by the buffet minutes ago, was nowhere to be found.
"Maa, where is Bhai?" he asked, leaning down to catch his mother's attention.
She paused, looking around the expansive hall with a furrowed brow. "He was here just a moment ago. I saw him talking to one of your cousins. Where could he have disappeared to?"
"He probably stepped into the washroom or took a call," his father added, patting Divyansh’s arm with a reassuring smile. "Don't let it distract you. This is your night, son. Go enjoy your party. Avni put an incredible amount of heart and soul into making sure every detail was perfect for you."
Divyansh scanned the room once more, his eyes finally landing on Avni as she shared a quiet word with Kanika near the balcony. He moved toward her, weaving through the guests until he was close enough to feel the familiar pull of her presence.
"So, are you actually enjoying yourself, or are you just being a good sport?" Kanika teased as he came to a stop beside Avni.
"I am having the best time of my life," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he looked directly at Avni. "And I owe it all to my wife."
Kanika gave a knowing, secret smile and stepped back. "In that case, I think I’ll go find Rishabh. I should leave you two alone before the sap gets too thick to walk through."
Left in their own private bubble amidst the noise, Divyansh turned fully to Avni. "Thank you, Avi. I mean it. I’ve never had a birthday like this. For as long as I can remember, my birthdays were just another Tuesday. I’d sit in my study, surrounded by files or a book I’d already read twice, pretending I didn't mind the silence. I never imagined someone would look at me and decide I was worth this much effort."
He took her hand in both of his, his thumbs tracing the delicate line of her knuckles. He gave her hand a gentle, grounding squeeze, as if to make sure she was real.
Avni’s eyes turned glassy, reflecting the golden lights of the room. "Divyansh, you have to understand... I never imagined I’d be the kind of person to do this, either. My world had become so small, so gray. But you? You made it colorful again. I know our beginning was unconventional. I know we were practically strangers months ago. But marrying you... it’s become the single best decision I’ve ever made."
She stepped into his space, her voice dropping to a raw, emotional whisper that cut through the music. "You are the first person since my parents died who has truly looked after me. Not my bank account, not my reputation—but me. You listen to my random nonsense at 2:00 AM like it’s the most important news in the world. People have spent years treating me like a machine that prints money, but you saw the girl underneath. You made me comfortable in my own skin again. The Avni I buried under layers of grief—the one who loved old movies and paperback books and actually liked herself—she’s coming back because you gave her a reason to. I was drowning, Divyansh, and you were the one who taught me how to breathe again. This party? It’s a drop in the ocean compared to how you stood up for me when the world felt like it was closing in."
She let out a shaky breath, a small, beautiful smile breaking through the tears. "Happy birthday, my Dimples."
Divyansh was momentarily silenced, his heart feeling twice its usual size. The power of her words hit him harder than any grand gesture ever could. He leaned down, his forehead briefly touching hers, a soft, private smile on his lips.
"Well," he whispered, "you’ve officially set the bar dangerously high. How am I supposed to top this when your birthday rolls around?"
Avni laughed, the sound bright and clear, like a bell ringing through the room.
"Look," he said, nodding toward the center of the hall where the music had shifted to a more upbeat tempo. "Everyone is dancing. It’s my birthday, and I think I’m done standing in the corners. Let’s go break the dance floor."
He took her hand and led her toward the music. As they stepped into the rhythm, lost in each other’s eyes and the sheer joy of the moment, they were utterly oblivious to the rest of the world. But across the room, the atmosphere was far from celebratory.
Tucked away near the refreshment table, shielded by a large floral arrangement, Arti and her son Amol stood like twin statues of bitterness. Arti’s eyes were narrowed into slits, tracking Avni’s every move with a cold, simmering venom.
"Look at that," Arti hissed, her voice barely a whisper but sharp as a blade. "Look at that shameless, ungrateful brat. Dancing and laughing like she hasn't a care in the world."
Amol took a long, slow sip of his drink, his face contorted into a permanent scowl. "It’s sickening, Maa. She can afford to throw a party that costs more than a small house for that husband of hers, but when I asked for a new bike ? Suddenly she’s 'managing the budget carefully.'"
"What can we even do?" Arti’s voice trembled with a mixture of rage and helplessness. "I warned your father years ago. I told him not to bring those jinxed orphans into our home. I told him they would only bring trouble and heartbreak, but he never listens to me. He never sees them for what they are."
Amol’s scowl didn't disappear, but it shifted, morphing into a dark, calculated smirk that didn't reach his eyes. He watched Divyansh spin Avni around, the image of perfect happiness.
"Yes, Maa," Amol said, his voice dropping into a chillingly calm tone.
******************************
What kind of drama is Amol planning ?
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