The door creaked open and Vihaan stepped into the softly lit room, holding the silk bag Sharda had given him.
Charvi, who had been sitting on the bed with Gauri, immediately caught sight of him and grinned.
"Jiju is here," she said teasingly. "I'll leave you two alone."
She winked at Gauri before slipping out, closing the door gently behind her.
Gauri raised an eyebrow at Vihaan as he walked closer. "What's in the bag?"
Vihaan cleared his throat, a little awkwardly. "Uh… clothes."
He opened the bag just enough for her to see the soft, shimmering fabric inside.
"For you."
Gauri frowned a little. "For me? But I already have so many clothes, Vihaan. I don't need more."
Vihaan shifted from one foot to the other, unsure how to phrase it. "These… these are different."
"How?" she asked, folding her arms.
He exhaled. "Because the ones you wear are…" He paused, searching for the right word. "…boring."
Gauri's eyes widened slightly. "Boring?"
He winced. "I mean… not boring-boring, just…"
"So you're saying I look boring?" she asked, one eyebrow arched.
Vihaan rubbed the back of his neck. "No! No, not you. The clothes are boring. You… you're…"
She narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "So that means I'm ugly?"
Vihaan's heart jumped. "Yes— no! No, that's not what I meant at all!" He waved his hands helplessly. "The clothes don't suit you, Gauri. Not you. You're— you're beautiful, okay?"
Gauri shook her head, suppressing a smile. "Vihaan, you're hopeless."
"What?"
"Despite being ACP Vihaan Kothari," she said, her voice mock-serious, "you can't even find the sweet words to convince your wife to accept a dress."
Vihaan blinked at her, speechless.
Gauri sighed dramatically, then lifted her chin and began reciting in a playful, sing-song tone:
> "Men in stories can move mountains,
make rivers turn and oceans rise.
They can charm their wives to jump from planes,
with just a glance, or a few sweet lies.
But my own husband— oh Devi Maa, look!—
can't even convince me to take a dress.
ACP Kothari, the mighty lion,
reduced to stammering… a hopeless mess."
Vihaan stared at her for a second — then laughed, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
"And you're hopeless," she shot back with a grin. "So what's next, ACP saab? You going to arrest me to make me wear it?"
Vihaan smiled, stepping closer, lowering his voice. "If that's what it takes…"
Gauri chuckled, rolling her eyes but clearly amused, her fingers already reaching out to touch the fabric inside the bag.
Gauri finally sighed, shaking her head with a smile.
"Fine, Mr. ACP," she said, taking the dress from his hands. "If I don't wear it, you might actually file a complaint against me for disobeying husbandly orders."
Vihaan grinned, relief washing over his face. "Finally."
"Don't get too happy yet," Gauri teased as she headed toward the washroom. "If this dress doesn't suit me, I'm blaming you."
"Noted, Mrs. Kothari," he said, suppressing a laugh.
A few minutes later, the washroom door opened—and for a moment, Vihaan forgot how to breathe.
Gauri stepped out gracefully, draped in the deep crimson and gold saree that shimmered softly under the light. The delicate embroidery caught the glow like sunlight on water, while her damp hair brushed her shoulders.
Vihaan's eyes followed her every step as she adjusted her pallu. For once, the usually sharp-tongued officer stood completely still, caught between admiration and awe.
"You're staring," Gauri said softly, glancing up with a hint of blush.
"Can't help it," Vihaan replied, voice low. "I've seen you as a fighter, a protector, a savior… but right now, you look like a blessing."
Gauri smiled faintly, her cheeks warming.
Vihaan stepped forward, carefully picking up the ornaments that Sharda had sent along with the dress. One by one, he began to adorn her—his fingers brushing lightly against her skin, his movements tender, almost reverent.
He clasped the necklace around her neck, his breath brushing her shoulder.
"These belong here," he murmured.
Then he slipped the bangles onto her wrists, the soft chime filling the quiet air.
"And these," he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror, "were made for you."
Gauri's heart fluttered, her reflection meeting his—two souls once bound by darkness, now wrapped in light.
When Vihaan finally stood back, he smiled faintly.
"Now we look like a perfect pair," he said softly. "Just like Devi Maa planned."
Gauri turned to face him fully, her eyes shimmering. "Perfect," she echoed, "but only because you never gave up on us."
Vihaan reached for her hand, and together, they stood before the mirror—husband and wife, warrior and protector, their reflection glowing like the start of a new dawn.
Vihaan took a slow step closer until Gauri was standing right before him, the faint scent of sandalwood and jasmine between them. The diya flames flickered softly in the corner, painting their faces in a warm golden glow.
For a moment, neither of them spoke—only silence, heavy with all the words they didn't need to say.
Then Vihaan gently lifted her chin, his eyes locking with hers.
"You've faced death, darkness, and destiny itself," he whispered. "You've carried pain no one should ever bear… and still, you're standing here, Gauri. My light, my strength."
Before she could reply, he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
The touch lingered—gentle, reverent, filled with unspoken gratitude and love.
Gauri's eyes fluttered closed, her breath trembling as tears glistened on her lashes.
When he pulled back, she looked up at him, her voice breaking softly.
"You don't have to thank me, Vihaan. I didn't fight for the world—I fought for you."
Vihaan's lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that carried both pride and pain.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly—like he was afraid that if he let go, she would vanish again.
And she held him back just as fiercely, her head resting against his chest.
For the first time in days, the storm inside both of them finally quieted.
No words. No promises.
Just two hearts beating in rhythm—the Jalpanchi and her beloved—bound not by fate or magic, but by love strong enough to move even the gods.