As I navigated toward the seclusion of our bedroom, my journey was whimsically hindered by the lively antics of my younger sibling, Ankit, and Sharad's son, Krishna. Krishna, his eyes alight with a hint of mischief, gently probed, "Uncle, might we receive our gift now?" Ankit, adopting a stance of mock resolve, declared, "Brother, we shall not yield until our rightful dues are rendered."

Their playful barricade coaxed a grin from me. Delving into my wallet, I relinquished all the cash within. "Have I satisfied you, you little scoundrels?" I teased, amusement lacing my voice.Their expressions lit up with delight, and they scampered away, their playful quest triumphantly concluded.

Upon entering the room, I was greeted by Dolly, lost in a serene contemplation. She was adorned in a red saree, its simplicity belied by the elegance it lent her, each fold of the fabric seeming to narrate tales of heritage and tradition. Delicate gold jewellery complemented her attire, casting a soft luminescence against her skin. Her hair, flowing in gentle undulations, was partly gathered by a Gajra, a fragrant wreath of jasmine, roses, and barleria, infusing her presence with a touch of ceremonial poise.

With measured steps, I moved closer, extending a hand to lightly brush her shoulder. It was an invitation to share a tranquil moment, a brief respite in the midst of our ongoing festivities.

Dolly's gaze met mine with a trace of puzzlement, "Are you going to change, or are you comfortable in your current outfit?" Her initial hesitance—a shake of the head followed by a nod—lent her an almost whimsical air, as if she had stepped out of a vibrant animated story. With a swift motion, she fetched a set of cosy cotton salwar-kurta from her bag and hurried into the washroom to change. Her quaint indecision drew a soft chuckle from me, her charm irresistibly endearing.

Leisurely, I removed my wrist watch and wallet, setting them down on the dressing table, before easing myself into the bed's welcoming embrace.

Upon her return, Dolly seemed tinged with a subtle anxiety. To dispel the awkwardness, I ventured, "Dolly, is there a side of the bed you prefer?"

With a casual air, she responded, "I'm fine with either."

Inviting her with a warm gesture, I said, "Come, join me here. Sharad has scheduled our flight for 8 am tomorrow. Is there anything you wish to talk about?"

Dolly's response was a subtle shake of her head, a wordless no, as she made her way to my side on the bed. A mix of curiosity and a faint apprehension shimmered in her gaze. To ease the atmosphere, I dimmed the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a comforting softness. My voice, a tender murmur in the newfound quiet, reassured her, "Dolly, we have all the time we need. Let's move at a pace that feels right for you."

Her reply, whispered with a touch of hesitancy, bridged the gap between us, "Ashwin, it would be untruthful to say I'm not nervous. Yet, my unease isn't due to the thought of closeness but rather the novelty of it all."

Dolly's confession ignited a thrill within me, a blend of nerves and excitement at this uncharted closeness. With a gentle pull, I brought her into a comforting embrace, sealing our shared moment with a soft kiss upon her forehead. "This moment of connection, this burgeoning understanding between us, suffices for now. Like you, I stand at the threshold of romance, unfamiliar yet eager. Let us tread these waters side by side, setting a pace that honours our mutual comfort. My only request is openness, a pledge to navigate our journey with transparency and shared sentiments."

Dolly inched closer, her whisper barely audible in the enveloping darkness, "I vow to invest myself fully in the tapestry we weave together, to value and nurture the bond we're forming."

In the quiet of the night, with Dolly's warmth against me, I felt a surge of peace and eager anticipation for the life that lay ahead. "Let's surrender to the night's embrace. A new dawn awaits us in Hyderabad, heralding the start of our shared voyage."

Cradled in the assurance of our embrace, I was awash with a serene conviction. The road ahead was ours to chart, and I was steadfast in my resolve to be the pillar she could lean on, a partner worthy of her trust and affection.

Glossary

• A Gajra is a flower garland that is worn by South Asian women during festive occasions, weddings, or as part of everyday traditional attire. They are made usually of varies types of jasmine flowers but rose, crossandra and barleria are also widely used in gajras. It can be worn both on the bun and with the braid coiling.

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