Merry Christmas🎄 🎅 💃❄

Nivya Nirvaan Rathod

My eyes welled up the moment I entered Amritvan. The entire city, at nearly four in the morning, was awash with the glow of countless diyas, shimmering fairy lights, and a gentle cascade of flower petals. It felt like a scene from a dream-one I couldn't have imagined even in my wildest fantasies.

I glanced at Nirvaan, who looked as astonished as I felt. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he rolled down his window, and I mirrored the action. The streets were alive, not with noise, but with warmth. People had come out of their homes, braving the chill to decorate every corner with lights and lamps. Their joy was palpable, radiating through their smiles and cheers. All this-for their prince, who had just gotten married.

It took us half an hour to reach the palace. The grand structure stood before us, dressed like a bride herself, shimmering with lights that seemed to compete with the stars. As soon as our car crossed the main gate, a loud cheer rang out. Yug and Yash, perched on their bikes, pressed a button, releasing hundreds of glowing balloons into the air.

My hands flew to my cheeks, my jaw dropping in awe. Nirvaan smiled softly beside me before opening the sunroof. The balloons drifted higher, their light reflecting in my eyes as I soaked in the magic around me.

When the car finally stopped at a smaller gate, Nirvaan stepped out first. Someone held the door for him, but he immediately came around to my side, opening the door and offering his hand. I grasped his warm fingers tightly, feeling steadier under his touch.

There was a gentleness in his gaze, one I had never seen before. It was reassuring, softening the edges of my unease and melting away a small piece of the tension I carried. For the first time, I felt that maybe-just maybe-this new chapter wouldn't be as daunting as I had feared.

This is the man whose hand I held before stepping into this place. My bond is with him first, above all others in this place. If he had been cold or disrespectful, how could I have ever hoped to be respected by anyone else? But instead, he had offered me a quiet kind of solace, steady and unspoken.

He might not smile often, but his gaze carries a warmth-a silent understanding-that I am deeply grateful for. In his own way, he had eased me into this moment, into this unfamiliar life, making it just a little easier to take the next step.

He carefully adjusted the pink scarf that symbolized our bond, placing it neatly over his shoulder. But what surprised me most was how attentive he was, helping me manage my heavy lehenga as Ivaan knelt down to fix the layers of cancan beneath.

I couldn't help but think, At least on my husband's side, I'm surrounded by gentlemen.

As I took my first steps into the palace beside Nirvaan, a cascade of cold fireworks erupted around us. My giggles spilled out, unrestrained, as I looked up at the dazzling display. For the first time that day, my heart felt lighter.

This welcome-it was beyond anything I had ever imagined.

"Welcome, Bhabhi Sa! Bhai Sa's life now officially has you in it!" Nirvaan's cousins shouted in unison as we reached the grand main door. His Bua stood there, holding a plate for the aarti, her warm smile adding to the already overwhelming emotions in my chest.

I couldn't help the soft smile that graced my lips, my eyes misting over. They didn't have to go to such lengths, but they did. It wasn't just a ritual-it was a heartfelt gesture. I glanced at Nirvaan standing beside me, his expression unreadable yet steady.

Bua Sa performed the aarti with practiced grace, placing a tilak on our foreheads before scattering grains of rice over us in blessing. Then came the tradition of leaving handprints on the wall near the entrance. My eyes fell on a set of faint, faded handprints, stories of another bride from long ago. I stole a glance at Nirvaan, noticing his gaze lingering on them before he quickly looked away.

Following the next step, I gently kicked the kalash filled with rice, symbolizing prosperity, and stepped into the red water, ready to mark my first steps into this new life. My feet then met the orange cloth laid down to protect the floor. As I took a hesitant step, I felt myself slip slightly.

Before I could panic, Nirvaan's strong hands steadied me, his palm warm and firm on my waist. My breath hitched as I looked up, our eyes locking-his deep, steady gaze meeting my wide, flustered one. His hands enveloped my waist entirely, sending a strange, electric warmth coursing through me. My stomach tightened at the intimate contact, heat flooding my face.

Nirvaan's reaction didn't go unnoticed either. His ears had turned an unmistakable shade of red, the blush creeping down to his neck, mirroring my own embarrassment.

A loud, exaggerated cough jolted us back to reality. I quickly stepped back, my cheeks burning, only to see his siblings grinning mischievously, cameras in hand. The elders exchanged amused glances, while Nirvaan and I struggled to compose ourselves, the moment etched in my mind as both endearing and unforgettable.

I honestly had no energy left for any more rituals, but I knew there were a few still waiting for me. After taking blessings from the elders, I stepped back, only to see Ivaan, Yug, and Yash approaching with cheeky grins that made my stomach drop.

"Bhabhi Sa!" they shouted in unison, dramatically dropping to their knees and practically collapsing into a group bow at my feet. I instinctively took a step back, my eyes wide in surprise.

"You will be our first priority from now on, even before Bhaiya," Yug declared with a solemn tone as he straightened up, his warm gaze making me blink.

Ivaan and Yash stood up beside him, their smiles surprisingly genuine.

"We will try to be the best devar for you. Thank you for coming into our lives, Bhabhi Sa," Ivaan added, his voice steady but betraying a slight emotional tremor. Any other time, I might have suspected mockery, but the glimmer of tears in his eyes said otherwise.

Before I could process their heartfelt words, Yash chimed in with his characteristic mischief.

"Ivaan Bhaiya said he'll name your kids, but please don't let him. He's terrible at it! He named our parrot Pichkoo, for God's sake. What if he names our nieces or nephews something ridiculous too?" Yash widened his eyes for emphasis, and I couldn't help but gape at him. They had already thought about naming my hypothetical children!

"We just got married! Shut up with your nonsense!" Nirvaan snapped, his glare sharp as he glanced at my now-embarrassed face.

"Haan, uske liye toh poora process hota hai. Itni jaldi kahaan aayenge," Yug quipped, nodding gravely like a sage. {Yes, for that there is a whole process. How will they come so fast.}

The entire palace burst into laughter while I fervently prayed for the ground to swallow me whole. If Yamraj himself appeared at this moment, I'd happily go with him. Nirvaan muttered something under his breath, rubbing his temple in exasperation, though I caught the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips.

"Alright, enough joking now," Manisha Bua intervened, still smiling. "Take blessings in the mandir, and then you can finally relax, Nivya. I know it's been a long day."

Nirvaan and I were guided to the pooja ghar for the final rituals. While he seemed composed, I struggled to keep my yawns at bay despite three cups of tea in the last four hours. My eyelids drooped as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, yet Nirvaan beside me showed no sign of fatigue. How was that even possible?

Once the rituals ended, a cousin guided me toward Nirvaan's room. Relief washed over me as I realized I could finally rest.

"Bhabhi Sa, do you want me to help you?" she asked, stifling a yawn of her own.

I shook my head with a tired smile. "No, thank you. You should rest too."

She nodded and left, leaving me to the vast, luxurious room decorated in elegant shades of white and gold. It was bigger than my room back home, but I couldn't even appreciate the grandeur in my current state.

With a groan, I yanked the heavy veil off my head and tossed it onto the bed before collapsing on the edge of the mattress. I quickly rid myself of the dupatta tied around my front, sitting there in just my blouse and heavy skirt, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

Indian weddings were beautiful, yes, but God, they are exhausting.

I got rid of the jewelry piece by piece-the neckpiece, earrings, maang tikka, nose ring, rings, and finally the anklets-just as the door creaked open.

Nirvaan stood in the doorway, looking slightly awkward in his ivory t-shirt and night pants. His eyes briefly met mine before his lips parted, as if he was calculating whether to speak or stay silent. I wanted him to speak; I needed his help.

"Do you need my help?" he asked, almost hesitantly, after a long pause. I nodded vigorously and pointed to my head, weighed down by pins holding my intricate bridal bun in place.

He nodded and stepped closer, his movements deliberate. Gently, he reached for the flowers wrapped around my bun, removing them first. Then, with remarkable patience, he began to free my hair from the pins. To my surprise, it didn't hurt as much as I had expected. He was careful, his fingers working skillfully. My breath hitched when the side of his palm brushed against my neck. That odd, electric sensation he always seemed to stir in me was back.

Finally, as the last pin was removed, he softly ran his fingers through my hair, letting it cascade down my back. His touch turned into a soothing massage that made a soft, involuntary moan escape my lips. Instantly, he pulled his hands away, looking a little startled.

"Thank you so much," I whispered, meeting his gaze with gratitude.

He gave a slight nod. "Your bag, the one you sent here, is in the closet. The other one is at our house. We'll shift there in two or three days." His tone was calm as he walked toward the sofa.

I nodded, heading toward the closet. Once there, I quickly changed out of my heavy skirt and started wiping off my makeup. As I glanced at the dark, deep stain of my mehendi, I paused to inhale its fragrance. I loved the scent of mehendi. Setting my blouse aside, I bent down to retrieve the night suit I had packed-a whimsical t-shirt and pants covered with cute cartoon prints. It was a gift from Nitya, one I'd cherished and worn countless times over the past year.

When I stepped back into the room, I noticed Nirvaan had tidied up-my jewelry lay neatly arranged, and the heavy dupatta was folded carefully on the sofa. He was now moving toward the same sofa.

"Why are you going there?" I asked, frowning as I poured myself a glass of water and settled on the bed.

"To sleep," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he adjusted a pillow on the small couch.

I glanced at him, then at the sofa. "Do you really think someone as tall and broad as you can fit on that sofa? Really?" I asked, my disbelief evident.

He didn't respond, only continued arranging the pillow, his jaw tightening slightly.

"Ab main itni bhi khubsoorat nahi ki apne aap ko mujhse door rakhne ke liye apne aap ko ush chote se sofa pe torture karoge. Come sleep on the bed," I said, rolling my eyes. His wide-eyed expression quickly turned into a narrowed gaze.{I'm not so stunning that you'd need to torture yourself on that tiny sofa just to keep your distance.}

"Unless," I added with a shrug, "you're worried you won't be able to control yourself."

He let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "You can't manipulate me," he muttered.

"We're married, Nirvaan. And tomorrow, we have so many rituals to get through. If you sleep there, you'll be uncomfortable all day." My voice softened as I adjusted the pillows behind me and leaned against the headboard.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing. "You'd be okay with sharing the bed?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm the one offering, so yes, I'm comfortable. Good night," I said with finality, turning off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness. Moments later, I heard the faint shuffle of his footsteps as he approached the bed. He adjusted himself on the far side, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

"Don't worry," I murmured into the quiet. "I've drawn an invisible line between us. I won't ever cross it." Grabbing another pillow, I hugged it close and relaxed into the comfort of the bed.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I closed my eyes. For now, this was enough.

The next time I opened my eyes, Nirvaan was poking my arm, a repetitive tap that felt as relentless as it was unnecessary. I blinked up at him groggily, his sharp features etched in morning light.

"Finally awake?" he said, straightening up with a sigh. He looked annoyingly fresh for someone who'd had just as exhausting a day as me, dressed in a crisp white kurta for the post-wedding rituals.

I stretched lazily, the kind that turned into a yawn halfway through, before I caught his eyes narrowing at me. "Good morning to you too," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"It's twelve. Get ready," he said matter-of-factly, already moving toward the sofa where his phone seemed to be calling him. "The rituals start in an hour."

I suppressed a groan, dragging myself upright. My feet instinctively searched for slippers, only to find none. I looked around in confusion, briefly contemplating asking Nirvaan but deciding against it. Instead, I moved toward the closet when a knock came at the door.

Great. Just what I needed-to open the door looking like I'd been chased out of a tornado. I hesitated, but before I could make a move, Nirvaan's calm footsteps echoed across the room. I peeked out of the closet to see him opening the door to his bua, who handed him a large silver plate with a knowing smile. He nodded politely, muttered a thank you, and shut the door before walking over to me.

"Bua sa asked you to wear this," he said, setting the plate down on the vanity. His tone was casual, but his deliberate steps toward the sofa gave away how much he wanted to distance himself from the conversation.

I rolled my eyes at his apparent lack of enthusiasm. Stretching one last time, I grabbed my essentials and headed for the bathroom.

When I emerged, the red saree draped snugly around me, Nirvaan was sitting on the sofa with his phone in hand. He didn't look up as I walked to the dressing table and placed the plate carefully beside me. The saree was simple but elegant, with a thin golden border that complemented the intricate work on the blouse with a sweetheart neckline. It felt nice-not too overdone, for once.

I settled in front of the mirror, quickly applying light makeup and parting my hair neatly in the center. As I fastened the necklace around my neck, my fingers stumbled. The clasp was fiddly, and I couldn't seem to get it right. Frustrated, I let out a small huff.

Turning the necklace around, I clasped it with slightly trembling fingers and sighed in relief. Slipping on the bangles, a bracelet, and the earrings, I took one last glance at my reflection. I looked ready, but my nerves disagreed. Steeling myself, I stood up, brushing down the pleats of my saree.

The thought of heading downstairs made my stomach churn uneasily. What if I didn't do something right? What if everyone noticed?

Before I could dwell too much on it, Nirvaan walked back into the room. His gaze swept over me in a quick appraisal, lingering just long enough to make me self-conscious. There was a flicker of admiration in his eyes-until it vanished, replaced by a slight frown. He started toward me, shoving his hands into the pockets of his golden pants.

"Where are you going?" His voice was low, with a certain edge to it that made me falter.

"Downstairs," I murmured, swallowing nervously as I looked anywhere but at him. His steady steps toward me made my breathing quicken involuntarily, and before I realized it, I had stepped back-only to bump into the dressing table. I gripped its edge for support, staring past him toward the door like it might save me.

"Kaafi jaldi bhool gayi aap humara rishta." His tone carried an amused edge, but the faint displeasure in his words made me flinch. His proximity felt overwhelming, his presence larger than life as he stopped mere inches away. My hands gripped the dressing table tighter, my lower lip caught between my teeth.{You forgot our relationship very fast.}

I could push him away-I should push him away-but something about the way he stood there, so close and unyielding, rendered me motionless.

Then, without a word, he leaned forward, his arm brushing past mine. My breath hitched as his hand grazed my waist ever so lightly. He reached for something on the table behind me. When he stepped back, holding it out in front of me, my heart sank.

The mangalsutra dangled from his fingers, the delicate chain catching the light. His gaze bored into mine, unreadable and intense.

My eyes widened in realization. I'd forgotten. The mangalsutra. And the sindoor.

"I... I..." My words stumbled out incoherently as the weight of my mistake hit me.

He sighed quietly, not letting me finish. Stepping closer once more, he reached out, slipping the chain around my neck. His fingers brushed against my skin as he fastened the clasp at the nape of my neck, his movements slow. His face was so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek, the sensation sending an uncontrollable shiver down my spine.

My eyes fluttered shut as he bent forward, picking up the small sindoor box. The next moment, I felt his thumb graze my hairline, the cool touch of the powder marking its place in my partition. The lightest bit dusted onto the bridge of my nose.

Before I could react, he lifted his little finger, brushing the stray powder away in a gesture so gentle it made my heart stutter.

He stepped back, his expression neutral save for the faintest flicker of something I couldn't quite name. Clearing his throat, he glanced away, as though the moment hadn't left its mark on him too.

But I couldn't hide the effect it had on me. My breathing was shallow, and my throat felt inexplicably dry. His closeness lingered like a phantom touch, the intensity of the moment weaving through me in ways I didn't fully understand.

Why did his presence unsettle me so much? Why did he affect me like this?

Seeing my unease, he stepped forward without a word, reaching for the jug on the bedside table. He poured a glass of water with an effortless calmness, the sound of the liquid filling the silence between us. Turning, he handed it to me, his fingers brushing against mine for a fleeting moment.

I took the glass, grateful for the distraction, and drank deeply. The cool water did little to soothe the storm raging inside me, but it gave me something to focus on. As I set the empty glass down, I caught the weight of his gaze on me again, lingering and intense.

I ran my tongue over my lips, trying to moisten them, only to notice the way his eyes flickered for a split second before he looked away.

"Let's go," he said, his voice a low, rich murmur that sent shivers down my spine.

There was something undeniable about the way he spoke-so deep, so effortlessly commanding. It carried a natural allure that made it hard to look away or resist. His voice wasn't just a sound; it was a pull, something primal and magnetic.

And that wasn't the only thing. From his sharp mind to the sculpted perfection of his form, he was, in every sense, a creation of divine precision. It wasn't fair how someone could embody so much in one person.

As he turned toward the door, I couldn't help but wonder if he realized the effect he had on me-on everyone, probably. Shaking off the thought, I quickly followed him, my heartbeat still racing from the quiet intensity of the moment.

As I reached downstairs, the entire living area was abuzz with laughter, chatter, and a swirl of vibrant colors. Nirvaan stood beside me, his presence steady and calm as we approached his grandfather. Together, we bent down to touch his feet, seeking his blessings, followed by the other elders.

The weight of exhaustion tugged at my body, making me think, Shaadi ke baad toh kamar toot jaati hai. {After wedding, your waist gets broken.}

"Wow, Bhabhi, you look absolutely gorgeous!" a lively voice rang out from behind. I turned to see Nirvaan's cousin, Pankhuri, gazing at me with admiration.

"Bhaiya really hit a jackpot with you," she teased with a playful chuckle, eliciting laughter from the younger crowd. Nirvaan shook his head, his lips twitching as though suppressing a smile.

Obviously, he did, I thought to myself, stealing a glance at him. But this man is too proud to admit it.

"Let's go; there are a few rituals to follow, but before that, eat something" Manisha Bua Sa said warmly, walking up to me and patting my cheek.

I glanced at Nirvaan, who nodded toward me, silently urging me forward. With him following close behind,first we had our food with everyone and then we headed toward the designated area where the rituals were to be performed.

After a brief puja, we were guided to sit opposite each other, a large golden pot brimming with milk and rose petals placed between us.

I felt oddly out of place amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, but then a comforting hand landed on my arm.

"I'm always on your side. You know that," Ivaan whispered, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze.

His words brought a smile to my face, a reminder that at least one familiar anchor was present. Turning my gaze forward, my eyes inadvertently locked with Nirvaan's. He quickly looked away, his expression unreadable, as Manisha Bua began explaining the game.

It was the classic ring-finding ritual, meant to predict who would "rule" the marriage.

I plunged my hand into the pot, feeling around aimlessly through the petals. Luck had never been my strong suit, and I was pretty sure I'd lose this too. Sure enough, Nirvaan was the first to fish out the ring, drawing enthusiastic cheers from his side.

I pouted slightly, resigned to my fate, when I suddenly felt something cool slip into my palm under the water. My eyes widened as I realized Nirvaan had passed me the ring.

Confused but not wanting to give myself away, I quickly pulled the ring out, pretending I had found it on my own. This time, it was my side that erupted in cheers, while Nirvaan sat back, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Why did he do that? He could have easily won.

For the final round, we both retrieved the ring at the same time, our hands brushing underwater. The crowd burst into laughter as Manisha Bua declared it a tie, holding up the ring triumphantly.

"Well, now that you've both claimed the ring, Nirvaan, make her wear it," she instructed with a warm smile.

Nirvaan reached for my left hand, his fingers brushing against mine as he slid the ring onto my middle finger. His touch lingered briefly, and I felt his gaze on me-intense, focused, unwavering.

"This is just a ritual," Bua Sa said, her voice gentle yet profound. "A marriage is built on partnership."

"Haan, but let's be real, chalti toh biwi ki hi hai," quipped one of Nirvaan's married cousins, sending the room into a fit of laughter. {Only wife rules in married life.}

Despite the light-hearted teasing, my thoughts lingered on Nirvaan's quiet gesture during the game.

After the game, we were guided to sit beside each other for the next ritual, which involved untying the kalawa threads from each other's wrists. The challenge? We could only use one hand.

Nirvaan and I exchanged a glance, both silently assessing the task ahead. I smirked slightly-thanks to my long nails, I had a clear advantage.

With some effort, I managed to hook the thread on his wrist and slowly untangled it, my movements precise. All the while, I could feel his eyes on me, observing in silence.

Meanwhile, Nirvaan was struggling. His brows furrowed in concentration as his single hand attempted to unravel the thread on my wrist. His other hand firmly held my forearm, steadying me as he worked. His grip was warm, steady, and oddly reassuring-so unlike the unnerving feelings his presence often stirred in me.

"Struggling?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He shot me a quick, unimpressed glance, muttering, "Patience."

A few seconds later, he finally succeeded, holding up the unwrapped thread triumphantly. The crowd around us clapped and cheered, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the faint look of relief on his face.

The next ritual involved me and my devars-a playful tradition that had me running behind them with a small stick, symbolizing a lighthearted attempt to "discipline" them.

Ivaan, of course, became my primary target.

"Come here, you troublemaker!" I shouted, feigning anger as I chased him around. The other two devars laughed and cheered him on, darting out of my reach, but Ivaan wasn't so lucky.

Finally, I managed to catch up with him, landing a light but deliberate tap on his arm with the stick.

"Ow! That actually hurt!" he exclaimed, wincing dramatically.

"That's for all the teasing you've done over the years!" I shot back, grinning triumphantly.

The entire room burst into laughter at our antics, the mood light and joyous. Even Nirvaan, who had been quietly watching, allowed a small smile to grace his lips, shaking his head at our playful banter.

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and the warmth of family, I felt a flicker of relaxation seep into my heart. It wasn't complete, but it was there-a momentary reprieve from the whirlwind my life had become.

Still, the thought of what I had left behind weighed heavily. My family, whom I had made my entire world, now considered me a stranger. Or perhaps I had made them one. My own words echoed painfully in my mind: Consider me dead after this marriage.

The bittersweet realization hit me-I had no one now. Truly no one.

A sad smile played on my lips as the noise around me faded into the background, replaced by the ache in my chest.

Just then, a cool glass was thrust into my hand. I blinked, breaking free from my spiraling thoughts, and turned to see Nirvaan standing close to me. His expression was unreadable as he looked around the room, avoiding my gaze.

"Your favorite," he murmured, his voice low and careful.

I looked down at the glass of lemonade in my hand, its chilled surface sending a shiver up my fingers. How did he know? How could he possibly know this small detail about me?

My eyes flickered back to him, but he had already stepped back, busying himself with something else. The question swirled in my mind, mingling with the warmth that the gesture brought.

Was I really alone?

The answer was no longer so clear. Nirvaan, with his quiet actions and subtle presence, had left a question lingering in the space between us-one that I wasn't ready to answer just yet. But for now, the lemonade in my hand felt like a lifeline. And that was enough.

-----

I really want your honest thoughts on Nivya. She is not indecisive, but she had just let go of her resentment towards Nirvaan, and he had earned it. By character, she is not someone to hold grudges for long, if you could see.

Men in India needs to take more care of their wife, respect them and try to understand her especially in initial days when she is surrounded by literal strangers because it is him for whom she stepped into that space. That is the main reason I couldn't make Nirvaan downright nonchalant, given his nature. Ivaan might be her best friend, but she came as Nirvaan's wife so it is his duty to be by her side right now, because his behavior with her will decide how much her in-laws will respect her.

What about Nirvaan?

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Thankyou<3