The laughter had slowly faded.

The wedding rituals had been completed, the nikah declared, the photos taken, the food devoured, the guests slowly leaving with hearts full of emotions.

And now… came the part that Zoya had feared the most.

The Bidaai.

She sat on the edge of the bed, in her laal joda now slightly creased, her hands heavy with bangles, her face tear-streaked. Everyone around her was smiling gently, their voices low.

Her eyes scanned the faces — Aarfa, Nida, even her father.

He was looking at her with a softness that melted her heart.

“You’re not going far,” he whispered. “But I’ll still miss your loud voice echoing in the house.”

Zoya smiled through the tears. “I’ll still call you every morning. Just to fight.”

He laughed, pulling her into a tight hug.

Her mother stood beside her, trembling fingers adjusting Zoya’s dupatta. “You were always stubborn,” she whispered. “But you were always ours.”

“I still am.”

More tears. More hugs. More soft prayers.

And then… she was standing at the door, ready to leave. Ready to walk out of her father’s home… and into the arms of a new life.

---

Outside, Akif stood waiting beside the car, his hands clasped, trying hard to look calm.

But the second Zoya appeared, eyes red, he couldn’t stop the ache inside his chest.

She walked up slowly, trembling. He opened the car door, his hand outstretched.

She placed her hand in his.

He squeezed it. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Ready.”

The car pulled away, leaving behind her home, her childhood, her old life — and ahead, into the beginning of her forever.

---

The Grand Welcome

The house stood tall, draped in fairy lights and fresh flowers, lit from corner to corner like a dream. As the car entered the driveway, people rushed out, cheering softly.

His mother stood at the entrance, holding the traditional aarti ki thali, her eyes glistening.

“Welcome home, bahu.”

Zoya stepped out of the car. Her legs trembled as she touched the doorframe of her new home.

Akif whispered beside her, “One step at a time. This is our house now.”

She nodded.

The aarti was done, her footprints made with alta as she stepped inside, leaving soft red marks — a symbol of a new beginning.

The ladies giggled.

And then came the ritual games.

---

The Games Begin!

The living room had been decorated into a cozy space with cushions and mats.

“Time for the ring game!” someone shouted.

A large brass bowl filled with milk and rose petals was placed in front of the newlyweds. Inside — a small silver ring.

“Whoever finds it first, will rule the house!” an aunt giggled.

Zoya blushed. Akif rolled his eyes playfully.

“You ready to lose?” he whispered.

“You’re so overconfident.”

They both dipped their hands into the bowl. Fingers tangled. Petals swirled. Their eyes locked.

She found it.

The room exploded in laughter.

“Looks like the queen has already claimed her throne!”

Akif raised his hands in surrender. “Gladly.”

Other games followed — from breaking the papad on each other’s heads to stealing shoes and teasing each other with spoonfuls of sugar.

Zoya laughed more than she had in months.

---

Later that night, she was led into his room — now their room.

Her eyes widened.

It was filled with candles, the soft scent of jasmine floating in the air. The bed was covered with fresh white sheets and scattered roses.

Akif stood at the door, awkward.

“I told them to keep it simple,” he mumbled.

Zoya turned, smiling. “It’s beautiful.”

He walked in, slowly.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Zoya nodded. “Just… overwhelmed.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Take your time. We’ve waited this long… I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

She smiled, stepping forward, resting her head on his chest.

“I’m not scared anymore.”

He kissed her hair gently.

“You never have to be.”

---

And as the candles flickered softly, and the moon peeked through the window, Zoya lay beside the love of her life, wrapped in a world that finally, truly, felt like home.

---

Ufff... Inlove 🤌🏻😭

Want some spicy fun? Hmm? Naughty little kids😏🌚