"In the quiet moments when the world fades away, I find the warmth of your presence is all I need to feel at home."

In morning , the sun shone softly through the curtains of Roohi's room. The atmosphere was still warm with the scent of jasmine from the temple flowers Dadi had arranged.

Roohi had just gotten out of bed when vivaan's grandmother entered with a gentle smile, carrying a beautifully folded saree in her hands.

"Here, Roohi," Dadi said, handing her the saree. "I hope you'll like it. It's a gift from me, and I wanted you to wear it today for the pooja. I know it's a bit old-fashioned, but it's something I hold dear."

Roohi glanced at the saree, feeling a bit overwhelmed. She had never worn one before and wasn't sure how to drape it. "I'll wear it, Dadi," she replied with a soft smile, not wanting to disappoint. Dadi, sensing Roohi's unease, patted her gently on the arm.

"I'll go ahead to the temple to ensure everything is ready for the pooja. Meera and I will take care of the arrangements. You take your time, beta.",Roohi nodded.

Roohi had just finished showering, feeling the freshness of the water on her skin. She wrapped herself in a towel and stepped into her room, where the saree Dadi had given her lay neatly folded on the bed. It was a beautiful, deep maroon saree with gold borders.

she stood in front of the mirror, holding the saree. She tried a few times, but the pleats wouldn't fold properly, and the fabric kept slipping. After a while, frustration began to set in. She had no idea how to wear the saree, and it seemed like the fabric was mocking her attempts.

Roohi had never worn a saree before. Her hands trembled a little as she unfolded it, looking at the folds and the draped edges, unsure of where to begin. She was still adjusting to the idea of being married, and the saree felt like another reminder of how little she knew about these traditions.

After a moment of hesitation, she decided to try it on. She pulled the fabric around her waist, attempting to gather the pleats, but the material slipped through her fingers. She tried again, only to end up in a tangled mess of fabric. Her frustration grew as she tugged at the saree, only to find that she was making no progress. She huffed, wiping away a few strands of wet hair from her face, and let out a small, defeated sigh.

Meanwhile, Vivaan was sitting in the living room, waiting for Roohi to come out. He had been quiet ever since they woke up, but he had noticed Roohi disappear into the bathroom after breakfast. The pooja at the temple was coming soon, and he was already dressed and ready. As time passed and Roohi didn't emerge, he couldn't help but wonder what was keeping her.

After a few minutes, unable to wait any longer, Vivaan knocked gently on her door. "Roohi? Are you okay?"

Roohi opened the door, looking slightly frazzled. Her hair was still damp, and she was standing in front of the mirror, holding the saree in her hands, clearly having struggled to drape it. "Vivaan, I... I don't know how to wear this saree," she admitted, her voice tinged with a touch of frustration. "I've been trying, but it's not working."

She forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Dadi gave me this saree," she said, holding up the fabric awkwardly. "But I can't get it right."

Vivaan stepped in, his brow furrowing with concern as he noticed the frustration on her face. "Why didn't you tell me you didn't know how to wear it?" he asked gently, his voice quiet, as if unsure of how to approach the subject. "Would you be comfortable wearing it today? You don't have to, if you're not ready."

Roohi smiled faintly, appreciating his understanding. "No, I don't want to disappoint her. Dadi gave it to me with love, and I can't say no. I just... I just don't know how to wear it," she admitted, a touch of vulnerability creeping into her voice.

Vivaan took a step closer. "If you don't mind me asking... Would you be comfortable with me helping you drape it?" His eyes were filled with sincerity, and there was a hesitancy in his voice, as if he was giving her the space to decide.

Roohi looked at him, feeling a little embarrassed. "I didn't want to bother you," she said, smiling awkwardly. "But I really don't want to disappoint Dadi. She gave it to me with so much love, and I can't say no."

Vivaan paused for a moment, his expression softening. "You don't need to worry about disappointing anyone, Roohi," he said, his voice calm. "And you're not bothering me. You never could."

Roohi looked up at him, her heart pounding a little faster. There was something reassuring about his presence-his introverted nature making the moment feel tender, not rushed. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "Please."

Vivaan gave her a soft smile. "Alright then," he said quietly. He took the saree from her hands, his movements gentle, and began to work on draping it around her. He first secured the fabric around her waist, making sure it sat just right. Roohi watched him, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. His touch was careful, and there was something almost tender in the way he moved.

His movements were slow, precise, as he began to help her drape it around her waist. He carefully tucked in the pleats, ensuring they were even and perfect, his fingers lightly brushing against her skin as he worked.

As Vivaan adjusted the pleats, Roohi couldn't help but admire the calmness in his actions. Despite his usually introverted nature, he was handling this with such ease, as though he had done this a thousand times before. His concentration was on her, on getting it right, and it made Roohi feel like everything would be okay.

As Vivaan finished, Roohi stood in front of the mirror, gazing at herself. The saree looked stunning, and she felt a warmth spread through her as she realized how beautiful she felt. She looked up at Vivaan, her heart full of gratitude.

When Vivaan finished draping the saree, he stepped back and looked at her. "There," he said softly. "How's that?"

Roohi looked in the mirror, her heart swelling. The saree looked beautiful on her, and for the first time, she felt confident wearing it. "It's perfect," she whispered, a soft smile curling on her lips.

Vivaan stood beside her, his hand brushing against hers briefly. "You look pretty, Roohi," he said quietly, his voice almost reverent.

Roohi turned to him, her heart fluttering. "How do you know how to do this?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

Vivaan paused, a distant look in his eyes, as if he were lost in a memory. "My papa would always help my maa with her sarees," he said quietly, almost as if the words came from a place deep inside him. "He was always so careful, and I remember him showing me how to do it when I was younger, because meera would always take a big dupatta, the moment she sees my maa in saree and ask me and my brother to drape it like a saree. I guess... I guess I just learned from watching him."

Roohi's eyes softened at the thought of Vivaan's father, who had clearly left an indelible mark on his son. She reached out and gently touched his arm, her voice full of warmth. "You carry so much of your father's kindness in you, Vivaan. I see it in the way you care, the way you notice the smallest things. It’s not just a memory, it’s a part of who you. It means so much that you helped me today."

Vivaan's expression softened, his usual reserve giving way to something more tender. He looked down, and his hands unconsciously moved to adjust the pleats at the front of her saree. "It was the least I could do," he murmured.

Roohi smiled, her eyes sparkling with affection. "It means more than you know."

Then, with a faint smile, he added, "You know, being the possessive son I was, I'd cry if my papa ever let me do it for my maa. I used to crouch down and smooth out her pleats, making sure everything was just right. It felt like... something I had to get perfect for her, no matter what."

Roohi looked at him, her heart swelling with admiration for this side of Vivaan she had never seen before. She could feel the depth of his love for his family, how every action he took seemed to come from a place of deep care.

As Vivaan crouched down to perfect the pleats, Roohi watched him, her heart swelling. He was quiet, introspective, but in moments like this, he spoke volumes through his actions. She could see the love he carried for his family, for his mother, and now, for her too.

As Vivaan adjusted the pleats one last time, Roohi caught her reflection in the mirror again, this time noticing not just the saree, but the man standing beside her. There was something deeply comforting about him, something that made her feel safe and cherished in a way she never expected.

"You know," Roohi said with a playful smile, "I think we make a pretty good team."

Vivaan's lips curled up into a shy smile, his eyes meeting hers. "I think so too," he replied softly.

In that quiet moment, as they stood together, there was a newfound sense of unity between them-an unspoken promise that, no matter what came their way, they would face it together, side by side.

The silence between them was peaceful, full of understanding and unspoken words. Vivaan stood up, a faint blush on his cheeks as he looked at Roohi, his hands brushing his own face in embarrassment. "There," he said softly. "I think it's perfect now."

Roohi smiled, her heart full. "It's more than perfect. Thank you, Vivaan," she whispered.

Vivaan's eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither of them said anything more. The tenderness in the air between them spoke louder than any words could. In that quiet moment, Roohi realized how much she had come to rely on him-not just for his help with the saree, but for his constant care and the gentle way he had opened up to her.

Vivaan stood back, his eyes scanning Roohi as she adjusted the saree, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. There was something uniquely intimate about the quiet moments they shared-no words needed, just the soft brush of his hands against her skin as he smoothed out the pleats. Roohi smiled, the warmth of gratitude in her heart blossoming at his simple act of kindness.

"Thank you, Vivaan," she whispered, her voice soft, her eyes meeting his with an earnestness he hadn't expected.

Vivaan nodded, his usual reserve lingering, but there was something tender in the way he looked at her. "It's nothing," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

A silence stretched between them, comfortable, full of unspoken understanding. Vivaan's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, as if memorizing the image of her in the saree-so graceful, so beautiful. Roohi, noticing the way his eyes softened, felt a rush of warmth.

"We should get going," Vivaan finally said, breaking the silence, his voice steady. "Dadi and Meera are already at the temple."

Roohi nodded, still feeling the softness of the moment, but the reality of their day ahead set in. She adjusted her saree one last time, and Vivaan reached out, helping her adjust a stray pleat that had come loose. His touch was gentle, and it made her heart flutter with a warmth that she didn't quite understand.

Together, they left the room, stepping into the quiet of the house before heading to the temple.

As they walked, the world outside seemed to slow, the hum of the morning blending with their unspoken connection. Vivaan's presence beside her felt different today-more than just her husband, more than just a partner in the rituals and customs. There was something deeper forming between them, a bond that no amount of time could break.

They reached the temple in silence, but it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes. As they walked toward Dadi and Meera, Roohi's heart swelled with a sense of belonging, of being woven into a new chapter of her life.

Vivaan, ever the introvert, kept his distance, but his presence, steady and strong, was all Roohi needed. They stood side by side, not just as newlyweds, but as two people finding their way together, step by step.

As Dadi smiled at them, and the ritual began, Roohi's heart felt full-grateful, cherished, and loved.

And in that moment, she knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

With that, they shared a quiet, contented moment, the gentle bond between them growing stronger with every passing day.