"his darkness, my desire"

Flashback: The Proposal

It had been a stormy night. Fitting, considering their story began in darkness. They were in Goa—alone, away from their chaos, from expectations and wounds too deep to explain.

Ananya was barefoot on the wet sand, arms spread like wings, laughing as the rain soaked her pale blue kurta.

Aadvik watched her from a few steps behind.

"She's a hurricane," his therapist had once said. "You can't contain a hurricane. You either run from it—or you build a house strong enough to survive inside it."

He was tired of running.

That night, Aadvik dropped to one knee. No speech. No box. Just a shaky hand holding out a simple silver ring that once belonged to his mother—something he'd never dared to touch until Ananya softened his past.

Ananya turned, stunned. "What… what are you doing?"

"I don't know how to make promises," he said, rain running down his face like tears. "But I can wake up every morning and choose you. Again and again. Even when I'm scared. Even when I fail."

Ananya's lip trembled. "I don't want a perfect man."

"Good," he whispered. "Because I'm still broken. But I'll build us something better than perfection."

She knelt with him, the ring forgotten between them, as she kissed him through the storm.

---

Wedding Day

The ceremony was small. Just fifty people. Some colleagues, a few distant family members, and surprisingly—Aadvik's estranged older sister, Avni, who hadn't spoken to him in ten years.

She came without warning, hugging him tight before the vows.

"You made it," he whispered.

Avni smiled through her tears. "You're the first man in our family who chose love over control."

Aadvik stood in a cream sherwani, eyes locked on Ananya as she walked down the garden aisle in a deep red lehenga—minimal makeup, thick brows furrowed in emotion.

Her veil blew slightly in the wind.

She wasn't walking toward a dream.

She was walking toward a reality she helped build—with blood, tears, and forgiveness.

As they exchanged garlands, the priest said, "Seven promises, for seven lives."

But Ananya leaned close and whispered, "One life is enough, if I get all of you in this one."

Aadvik blinked hard, gripping her hand as if she'd disappear.

They weren't perfect.

But they were home.

---

Back to the Present: The Final Closure

It was a Sunday afternoon when Ananya drove alone to her childhood home.

The same broken house where she was once told her dreams were "too big" and her voice was "too loud." The gate creaked open.

Her mother, thinner and greyer now, stood at the doorway.

"I thought you forgot us," she said softly.

Ananya inhaled. "No. I just… needed to find myself first."

Her mother looked away. "We weren't kind."

"No, you weren't," Ananya replied calmly. "But I forgave you a long time ago. For myself."

Silence stretched.

Then a small voice broke it.

"Daadi!" Pari came running from the car, carrying a handmade card. Ruhan followed with a toy car.

Her mother froze, eyes glassy.

"These are your grandchildren," Ananya said.

The woman who once smacked her for talking to boys now held her granddaughter's tiny hand and began to cry.

Healing wasn't perfect.

But it had begun.

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