The first golden rays of morning light crept into the room, wrapping everything in a soft, heavenly glow.

Zoya stirred first.

Still tangled in her bridal dupatta and the scent of roses, she slowly blinked awake, her lashes fluttering like butterflies. For a moment, she just… lay there. Everything was quiet, peaceful. The kind of silence that only came after a storm. Or after a night that changed everything.

Her eyes trailed over to the man sleeping beside her.

Akif.

Her husband.

He lay on his side, hair slightly messy, one arm thrown protectively around her waist, his breathing deep and even. The peacefulness on his face made her heart ache in the best way possible.

She had seen this man furious, shy, flirty, wild, intense…

But like this? Soft. Safe. Hers.

Zoya’s hand slowly reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. That simple touch made his brows twitch.

Then—

He groaned, burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Jaan… please don’t wake me up with your cuteness… I’ll faint.”

She laughed softly. “You’re already awake.”

“I’ve been awake since your breath hit my chest like sunshine.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, blushing. “Such drama.”

“I’m your husband. I can be dramatic now. It’s in the vows.”

She looked away, but couldn’t hide her smile.

Suddenly, he sat up halfway, cupping her face with one hand. His thumb brushed her cheek, his expression slowly turning serious.

“Zoya… last night was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Her eyes welled up.

“I’ll never forget it. I swear.”

They stayed there for a few minutes, gazing at each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Then Zoya giggled.

“What?” he asked, raising a brow.

“You still have my mehendi color on your lips.”

Akif smirked. “And you still have my love all over you.”

She hit him with a pillow, cheeks red.

They rolled on the bed laughing, play-fighting like kids, kissing like lovers, clinging like soulmates.

Later that morning, the rest of the house woke up.

Knocks on the door.

Teasing cousins outside.

“MRS. MALIK, ARE YOU ALIVE?”

“AKIF BHAIYA, DID YOU SLEEP OR… SLEEP?”

Akif groaned dramatically and pulled the blanket over both their heads. “Tell them we moved to Canada.”

Zoya couldn’t stop laughing.

Finally, after way too much knocking and some forced silence, they got up. She slowly wore a soft red silk saree gifted by his mother, her hair still wet from a quick shower, her sindoor shining like a flame against her parted hairline.

Akif stood behind her, adjusting her necklace in the mirror, watching her.

“You look like a queen.”

“I am a queen,” she said smugly.

“And I’m your forever fool,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.

They walked down to the living room hand in hand, facing the world not as Zoya and Akif anymore…

But as Mr. & Mrs. Malik.

---

FINALY I CAN WRITE THEM MR. AND MRS. MALIK! YAAAYYY MY KIDS HAVE GROWN UP (proud mom🥲)

~Anniewrites.