Page 78 of The Maze

“I will. Now go,” I playfully push Simran towards Vishnu, who is already heading towards the men’s section to browse through the dresses for my wedding.

Ruby starts arranging my dress in the trial room while bhabhi occupies the other room to try on her clothes. With the wedding preparations this close, I can’t help but feel giddy with excitement to see how everything unfolds in the days to come.

Just as I’m about to step into my trial room to wear my wedding lehenga, I catch sight of Ayaan coming out from the men’s trial room.

He stands tall and handsome, wearing a brocade maroon sherwani that matches my maroon lehenga. His silk sherwani is paired with a beige silk churidar (fitted trousers). My breath catches in my throat as I take in his appearance. The sherwani fits him like a dream, and the intricate brocade work adds a touch of elegance to his already dashing persona.

He looks gorgeous, more charming than ever before. The way the sherwani hugs his broad shoulders and falls below his knees accentuates his masculine features. His confident posture and the way he carries himself with grace make my heart race with desire. He’s the most attractive groom ever, and the sight of him takes my breath away. I can already picture us standing together at the mandap, the perfect pair, making heads turn with our joyous smiles and twinning outfits.

But what is he doing here? Did Simran call him for trials on the same day as me?

Ayaan’s eyes meet mine, and I can see the excitement in them. He gives me a warm smile, and I feel my cheeks flush with happiness. He is not surprised to see me here, which means he knew I was coming today. Our eyes lock, and time seems to stand still. At this moment, it’s just the two of us, lost in each other. There’s an unspoken connection between us, and like every other time, I can feel his love and affection for me, his eyes promising to stand by me through thick and thin.

Just a few more days and my King will forever be mine.

CHAPTER 23

AYAAN

As I stand here, locked in an intimate gaze with Meher, I can feel a rush of nostalgia course through me. Simran’s boutique has always been special for us. It was here that our paths had first crossed. I still remember that day vividly when I saw Meher trying to escape from her guards at the boutique’s emergency exit. I couldn’t resist stopping her, and little did I know that it would be the start of a beautiful love story between us.

The next time we met here, I was with my father, trying on traditional dresses for his 55th birthday celebration. Meher was also here to try on a lehenga for her friend’s wedding on the same day as my father’s birthday. Our lives intertwined numerous times, and now, we find ourselves here again, this time for our own wedding preparations.

I can see Meher’s appreciative gaze run over me, her eyes conveying her approval. I know she loves what I’m wearing, but what I am most excited about is to see her dressed as my bride. Simran had shown us the sketches of our matching wedding outfits, and I couldn’t wait to see Meher in her wedding attire.

“How’s the fitting, Mr. Shergill?” Kiran, Simran’s assistant, asks with a glint in her eyes.

As I adjust the sherwani buttons, I catch Meher’s gaze, her expression tinged with jealousy as she sees Kiran touch my chest to smooth out any creases.

“Is the fitting alright?” Kiran inquires again, this time with a flirty undertone.

I ignore that and share my concern with her instead.

“The fitting is fine, but these buttons are too tight,” I reply.

Kiran gives me a playful smile and steps closer.

“Let me have a look.” She brushes her fingers over my arms as if inspecting the fit, her touch lingering a bit longer than necessary.

I take a step back in order to maintain some distance from Kiran’s touch. Just as Kiran is about to help me button up the sherwani, Meher arrives on the scene, her presence immediately causing a shift in the atmosphere.

Without wasting a moment, Meher takes charge, pulls me closer to her and expertly buttons up my sherwani. Her tone is laced with a touch of irritation as she huffs, “Nothing is wrong with the buttons. They are absolutely fine.”

My lips twitch into a half-smile as I catch Meher’s protective stance. I can sense her jealousy even without looking at her. Kiran realises Meher’s deliberate intrusion and decides to leave us alone. It’s moments like these that make me realise how possessive Meher is of our relationship. And I absolutely love it. Her touch is gentle as she buttons up my sherwani as though she owns me, not wanting any other woman to touch me. Fair enough! I wouldn’t want that too. It’s only Meher for me. Only her. Always her. I slide my arm around her waist and pull her closer.

“Your possessiveness is so hot, Mrs. Meher Shergill,” I whisper into her ear with a mischievous grin, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

Meher’s reaction to her new name is just as I expected—a mixture of surprise and confusion. Although we haven’t made it official yet, I was curious to gauge her reaction.

I know our past issues are still looming over us, but I can’t help myself. I enjoy pushing her buttons and seeing her fiery side.

“It will be MeherWaliaShergill,” Meher corrects me firmly. “I’m not losing my last name after marriage.”

Her words surprise me, and I admire her resolve. She’s not willing to lose her identity.

“Walia and Shergill in one name? That’s impossible,” I retort arrogantly.

Meher’s response is immediate, “Then make it possible. I’m going to marry you and am willing to do what the Shergills want from their daughter-in-law. But that doesn’t mean I’ll forget the roots of my identity.”

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