“The only one of its kind—made just for Ranisa,” he said, tightening the strings at my waist.

“It’s so heavy!” I said, trying to move into it.

“Is it?” he teased, and I nodded.

“Yes… and I wonder if you’ll still be able to lift me. I must have doubled in weight,”

And without warning, he swept me into his arms. I gasped, eyes wide.“Rudra!”

“Even if you doubled in weight, I’d still carry you,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“Now put me down,” I laughed breathlessly, and he gently did.

I caught my breath and looked at myself in the mirror again. The deep red made me glow.

He stepped closer and kissed the side of my head.“Let me dry your hair,” he said gently.

I smiled as he pulled the bun loose. My wet hair cascaded down to my hips, and he picked up the white cotton cloth and began to pat it dry.

“You need to part it and comb,” I instructed, and he nodded. I handed him the wide-toothed wooden comb.“In small sections. That way it won’t break,”

“Okay,” he said, so soft and attentive it melted me.

Watching him care for me like this felt surreal. If anyone had told me at our wedding that this same man would one day comb my hair with such tenderness, I would’ve laughed.

But now… now I saw how deeply he loved me. Still, a quiet voice inside wondered—was all this love and affection also born from guilt?

I watched him silently as he made small sections and dried my hair, occasionally using the ash pot for warmth and fragrance. It took time, but he was patient. After drying it all, he started combing with such care, his fingers dancing gently through the strands.

“You have really beautiful hair, little bird,” he said with a smile.

I looked at him in the mirror and smiled softly.

“You know, Nandani, I never saw your hair open before our wedding,”

“Really?” I asked.

He nodded with a hum, and when he finished combing, I said,“You have to braid it now, or it’ll get messed up during travel,”

“Alright,” he agreed and began parting it into three sections.

“You know how to braid?” I asked, amazed.

“Yes,” he said confidently.

“Wow. When did you learn that?”

“I have a little sister. She’s ten years younger than I. She didn’t have a mother, so I used to braid her hair every day,”

I frowned slightly.“She’s not your real sister, right?”

“Ah, no. But she’s more than that. She’s the daughter of my Guruji,”

I turned slightly to look at him.“Your Guruji has a daughter?”

He smiled.“Yes. Can’t he?”

I chuckled nervously.“Yes, yes, of course he can,”