So the epilogue wasn't planned but since so many people, especially Sarahthegreat4 (meri madam ji) requested the epilogue, here it is!

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The Shergill mansion was, as usual, a mix of organized elegance and utter chaos. This time, it wasn’t a grand event or a celebration causing the ruckus—it was simply the Shergill family being themselves.

In the center of the living room, Rakshit and Drishti stood glaring at each other, while Akshit and Divya were having their own heated exchange nearby. Watching all this unfold, Tejashri Chachi sat comfortably on the couch, sipping her tea with a knowing smile.

“I swear, Mrs. Shergill” Rakshit growled, emphasizing the title with exaggerated annoyance, “if you rearrange my office files one more time, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Drishti cut him off, smirking as she crossed her arms. “File a complaint? Oh wait, I’m your PA too. Good luck with that.”

Tejashri chuckled into her cup, thoroughly enjoying the show. “Rakshit beta, just admit it. Drishti’s better at managing your files than you are.”

“Thank you, Tejashri Chachi!” Drishti beamed, while Rakshit muttered something under his breath.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Divya was pointing an accusing finger at Akshit. “And you! What kind of husband says his wife can’t reach the top shelf because she’s too short?”

Akshit leaned back on the couch, grinning. “Well, it’s not my fault you’re exactly five-foot-seven.”

Divya’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re sleeping in the bathroom again tonight.”

Akshit’s smirk faltered. “Come on, jaan. It’s just a joke! You know I love your height—it’s perfect for stealing my T-shirts.”

Before Divya could respond, Tejashri intervened, clapping her hands. “Enough of this nonsense! If you boys want to prove you’re such amazing husbands, why don’t you cook dinner for your wives tonight?”

Both men froze, their faces a mix of horror and disbelief. “Cook?” Rakshit echoed, looking at his aunt as if she’d just suggested skydiving without a parachute.

“Yes, cook!” Tejashri declared. “And no cheating or calling the chef. It’s time you boys stepped up.”

Drishti and Divya exchanged delighted glances, already imagining the chaos that was about to ensue.

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EVENING

It was evening time and the kitchen looked like a war zone.

Rakshit, dressed in a crisp apron that clashed hilariously with his usual CEO demeanor, was squinting at a recipe book. “Why does this say ‘whisk vigorously’? How vigorously are we talking here?”

Akshit, standing next to him and cracking eggs with an alarming lack of precision, rolled his eyes. “You’re overthinking it. Just do this.” He proceeded to whisk so aggressively that half the batter splattered onto Rakshit’s shirt.

“Akshit!” Rakshit barked, holding out his now-ruined shirt. “Do you have any idea how expensive this is?”

“Relax, Bhaiya” Akshit replied, grinning. “Consider it your initiation into domestic life.”

From the doorway, Drishti and Divya were nearly doubled over with laughter. “Cooking ke maare, 2 bechare!” Drishti managed to say, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Who knew the great Rakshit Shergill couldn’t even crack an egg?” Divya teased.

“Oh, really?” Rakshit turned to glare at Drishti. “Let’s not forget who burned toast last week, Mrs. Shergill.”

Drishti smirked. “At least I didn’t mistake sugar for salt.”

Before Rakshit could retort, there was a loud crash as Akshit dropped a pan. “Oops,” he said sheepishly, looking at the mess of spilled sauce on the floor.

“Forget the food” Divya said, stepping into the kitchen. “At this rate, we’ll have to order pizza.”

“No!” Akshit exclaimed, grabbing her hand dramatically. “Give us one more chance! We’ll make it perfect, I promise.”

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An hour later, the dining table was set with a surprisingly decent spread of dishes. The pasta was slightly overcooked, the salad had a questionable amount of dressing, but the effort was evident—and appreciated.

Drishti took a bite of Rakshit’s pasta and looked up at him, her eyes soft. “It’s… not bad. For a first attempt.”

Rakshit raised an eyebrow. “Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Divya, meanwhile, was giggling at Akshit, who had somehow managed to get flour in his hair. “You look like a baker ghost,” she teased, brushing the flour away.

Akshit grinned, pulling her into a hug. “As long as you’re not kicking me out of bed tonight, I’ll take it.”

Tejashri Chachi watched all of this with a fond smile. “See? This is what family is all about. Chaos, love, and a little bit of flour on the side.”

Drishti raised her glass. “To chaos and love!”

“To chaos and love” everyone echoed, clinking their glasses together.

And as laughter filled the Shergill mansion once more, it was clear that this family would always find joy in their unique brand of madness.

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As the family began dispersing after dinner, the kitchen remained filled with the soft clinking of utensils being cleaned up. Rakshit stayed behind, pretending to inspect the pots, but his real focus was on Drishti, who was busy stacking dishes, her laughter still ringing in his ears.

He couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his lips. Approaching her silently, Rakshit plucked the plate from her hand and set it aside.

“Why are you laughing so much?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

Drishti turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because seeing you in that apron, struggling to crack an egg, was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in years!”

Rakshit raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Oh? So you find my suffering entertaining, Mrs. Shergill?”

Drishti tilted her head innocently. “Absolutely.”

Before she could say another word, Rakshit grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly lifted her onto the kitchen counter. She gasped, her cheeks turning pink as he leaned in, trapping her between him and the cabinet behind her. His arms rested on either side of her, making escape impossible.

“And now?” Rakshit murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Still laughing?”

Drishti swallowed hard, her heart racing at the proximity. But her pride wouldn’t let her back down. “Yes,” she managed, her voice slightly breathless. “You’re still wearing that ridiculous apron, Mr. Shergill.”

Rakshit glanced down at the frilly apron and chuckled. “You have a point.”

Drishti thought she’d won the moment until his gaze softened, and he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But you look beautiful when you laugh” he said, his voice sincere.

Her laughter faded, replaced by a shy smile she couldn’t hide. “You’re not supposed to say things like that” she mumbled, looking away.

“Why not?” he asked, leaning closer. “Is it because you secretly like it when I make you blush?”

“Mr. Shergill!” she protested, lightly pushing his chest, but her rosy cheeks betrayed her.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a warm hug. “Fine, I’ll stop… for now.”

Drishti rested her head against his shoulder, smiling as she whispered, “You’re impossible, Rakshit Shergill.”

“And you love it” he replied smugly.

"Hmmm, Bedil Shergill se Lover Shergill ban gye" She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Kya kar skte hai? Drishti Shergill ne life me entry le li thi, Lover Shergill toh banna hi tha." He replied with a smile and then they both laughed.

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The romantic moment was interrupted by Drishti hopping down from the counter and tugging on Rakshit’s arm. “Show me the house!”

He looked at her in disbelief. “You’ve been living here for months. What’s left to see?”

“Everything! The secret rooms, the stories behind the paintings… I want the exclusive tour” she demanded, folding her arms.

Rakshit sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only because I’m too tired to argue.”

Moments later, Drishti was laughing uncontrollably as Rakshit carried her piggyback-style through the mansion.

“This is the study where I make millions,” he said, walking into a stately room. “And this is the couch where I nap when those millions exhaust me.”

Drishti giggled, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Wow, riveting stuff. Tell me more, Mr. Shergill.”

They passed a grand staircase, and Rakshit pointed upward. “Up there is the room where I keep my most prized possession.”

Drishti raised an eyebrow. “Really? What is it?”

He turned his head slightly, smirking. “You.”

Her cheeks turned crimson, but before she could respond, she leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re such a flirt,” she whispered.

“And you’re stuck with me,” he replied, grinning.

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Back in their bedroom, Divya was pacing furiously, still annoyed about Akshit’s earlier teasing about her height.

“You’re impossible, Akshit!” she fumed.

Akshit, lying on the bed with his arms behind his head, looked at her with a lazy grin. “And yet you married me. Who’s the real winner here?”

Divya threw a pillow at him, which he caught effortlessly. “Don’t push your luck,” she warned.

He got up and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” he said, though his eyes were still twinkling with amusement. “You know I love everything about you—especially your height. It’s perfect for this.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he scooped her up into his arms, making her squeal in surprise.

“Akshit! Put me down!”

“Not until you admit you forgive me,” he teased, spinning her around.

“Fine, fine! I forgive you!” she laughed, clutching his shoulders.

He set her down gently, brushing a kiss on her forehead. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Divya rolled her eyes but smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re lucky I love you, Akshit Shergill.”

“And I’m lucky you do,” he replied, holding her close.

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From the hallway, Tejashri Chachi peeked into both couples’ moments, her heart swelling with affection. “Shergill boys,” she muttered to herself with a smile. “Finally learning how to keep their wives happy.”

With a contented sigh, she walked away, leaving the lovebirds to their laughter, bickering, and romance.

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THE END

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