Two years after waiting... Two years of longing...Two years of imagining how he would hold her when she returned, how he would scold her, love her, tease her, worship her... And yet, beneath every fantasy, there had always been a silent ache.

What if she never comes back? What if she comes... but doesn't want me anymore? What if I'm not enough for her now?

Those thoughts used to tear him apart every night. But after yesterday — after seeing her on that stage, after feeling her in his arms, after tasting her breath again — every doubt vanished like smoke.

She had returned for him. Only him. And today... he would claim her back, not with fear or hesitation, but rightfully, proudly, completely.

Now he stood in the grand entrance of Mehra Mansion, holding a bouquet of roses so tightly their stems trembled between his fingers. His heart raced like a drumline under his ribs. Every inch of him was restless, impatient, overflowing with anticipation.

"Mom! How much longer?" he shouted toward the staircase for the fifth time. "We're already late!"

No one responded. Or rather — no one cared. Because the great Ishaan Mehra, the man who never tolerated delays, the man who ran an empire by the clock, had been standing at the exit gate since 9 a.m. sharp, waiting for his family to get ready.

The plan was simple: Around 11 a.m., they would show up at the Verma Mansion unannounced... and take his wife home. Their daughter-in-law. Their Aanya. his Rose.

Yesterday night, after returning from the award show, Ishaan had confessed everything to his family — his hopes, his fears, the two years of pain, and his decision. He would bring her home. No more distance. No more silence. No more waiting.

Yet now it was only 10 a.m., and Ishaan was vibrating with impatience.

Karan walked down the stairs with arms folded, watching his brother like he was examining a rare zoo animal. "Seriously, bhai?" he said. "You've been standing here since nine. We decided we'd leave at eleven. It's barely ten."

"I can't wait, Karan," Ishaan snapped. "Tell them to hurry up — or I swear I'll go alone to my Rose."

Karan stared at him, baffled. "Unbelievable. How did you survive two years like this, bhai?"

A dramatic sigh escaped Ishaan, along with a hopeless pout. "You have no idea how I survived. Even I don't know how I'm still alive."

At that moment, Mrs. Mehra finally appeared, elegantly dressed, adjusting her bangles with a teasing smile. "Alright, alright, Mr. Mehra. We've tortured you enough. We're ready. Let's go. No more waiting."

Jay, Jiya, Mr. Dinesh, sikha  everyone gathered near the entrance.

"By the way, bhai," Jay said with a mischievous glint, "you already met bhabhi yesterday... then why are you so restless?"

Ishaan's eyes darkened. "I didn't even meet her properly," he muttered.

Karan smirked. "Really? from what I remember, you both vanished into that dressing room for a good half an hour. God knows what you were doing."

A red flush crawled up Ishaan's cheeks. His ears burned.

"N-nothing like that," he stammered, glaring at the floor.

"Besides, bhai," Jiya added innocently, "she's already back now. She's not going anywhere. You can bring her home later too. What's the rush?"

Ishaan's eyes widened like she had said something dangerous. "No! No, no, no!" he said quickly. "We're not waiting. Absolutely not. We're going today. Right now."

Everyone burst into laughter.

Mrs. Mehra shook her head fondly. "Enough teasing my son. Stop tormenting him. Don't worry, Ishaan... we are going today. In fact, we are going now."

Relief and joy washed over Ishaan's face like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Behind Mrs. Mehra, a line of servants stood holding trays — sweets, sarees, jewelry, flowers, shagun — everything required to welcome a daughter home, everything required to claim a bride with respect and honor.

Five additional cars were already packed with gifts, traditional items, and decorations.
It wasn't just a visit. It was a procession. A declaration. A reclaiming.

"Let's go," Mrs. Mehra said warmly.

The entire Mehra family settled into two cars. Behind them, five more cars filled with staff and preparations followed like a royal entourage.

And in the very first car, Ishaan held the bouquet of roses in his lap — fingers trembling, heart thundering, his soul whispering only one thing:

I'm coming for you, Rose. And I'm never letting you go again.

___

The convoy of luxury cars rolled to a slow, majestic stop in front of the Verma mansion. Workers from the estate paused, tools frozen mid-air, eyes widening as one sleek black car after another lined up like some royal procession.

The moment the doors opened, the Mehra family stepped out with the kind of grace and power that usually belonged on magazine covers — Mrs. Mehra in an elegant silk saree, Dinesh Mehra adjusting his cufflinks, Jiya and jay bickering even while stepping onto the pavement,  karan adjusting his suit. and in front of them all... Ishaan Mehra, clutching a rose bouquet like it was the most precious treasure.

He straightened his jacket, took a deep breath, and walked toward the gate — ready to claim his wife back with dignity, confidence, and two years' worth of longing.

A Verma household worker rushed forward and pushed the tall iron gates open.

And at the very first step inside...

THUD!

Something soft smacked right into Ishaan's face. Everyone froze. A single pillow lay at his feet. And then they all noticed it.

The scene inside the Verma mansion looked nothing less than a warzone made of feathers. White fur floated through the air like snowflakes, drifting down from the chandelier, dancing around the sofas, and sticking to everyone's hair like tiny clouds.

And in the center of the madness—

Aanya.
Nisha.
Ansh.
Suzy.
Bella.

All of them were laughing, shouting, and hitting each other with pillows like five-year-olds who had just declared war.

The entire Mehra family stood rooted to the spot, completely shocked. They had planned to enter with grace, surprise the Vermas with respect and royalty...

But instead, they got surprised.

***

Ten minutes earlier 

The Verma mansion was unusually lively that morning. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, warming the marble floors, and the sound of faint laughter echoed from the living room. The entire family had gathered—not for a celebration, not for a festival—but simply because after two long years... Aanya was finally home.

Aanya sat cross-legged on the carpet, helping Suzy sort out a huge box of props for an upcoming event. small celebartion of winning award. and aanya's return.  Nisha was arranging flowers in the center of the hall. Bella is also here sprawled on the couch scrolling through her phone, and Ansh was trying to get everyone to focus.

But Verma mansion and "focus" were two things that never matched.

"Suzy, hand me the pink flower bunch," Aanya said, stretching her hand.

Suzy frowned. "Pink? I only see purple and— WAIT. Who took the pink ones I kept aside?!"

Bella didn't even look up. "Probably the same person who steal Nisha's dii chocolate."

Nisha gasped. "EXCUSE ME. Someone did steal my chocolate. And it was kept in the fridge behind the salad box—WHO GOES THERE??"

Aanya glanced up innocently. "Bella...?"

Bella sat up straight, offended. "Why would I go behind a salad box? That's too much fitness for me."

Ansh exhaled dramatically. "Guys, please. We have to finish decorating before Mom comes back."

No one listened. Instead, Suzy noticed a familiar pink petal sticking out beneath Bella's throw blanket. Her eyes narrowed.

"Bella... what is that?"

Bella froze.

Everyone's eyes turned to the blanket. Bella tried to subtly hide it.

Aanya raised a brow. "Bella."

Bella, caught, squealed and jumped up.

Suzy lunged at her.

Bella screamed and grabbed the nearest thing — a soft white pillow — and threw it straight at Suzy.

WHOOF!
The pillow hit Suzy on the head, exploding a small burst of feathers. Suzy stood there silently.

Aanya whispered, "Oh no..."

Nisha muttered, "Bella, you're dead."

And before anyone could blink—

Suzy grabbed another pillow and whacked Bella with it.

Bella yelped.

Ansh rushed to stop them. "Guys, ENOUGH—"

But Nisha's aim was perfect.

She hit Ansh square in the back of the head with a pillow.

He froze. Slowly turned. Picked up a pillow. And smirked. That was the beginning of destruction.

It happened quickly.

Ansh hit nisha.
Bella hit Suzy.
Suzy hit Aanya.
Aanya hit bella.
Nisha screamed.
Bella yelled.
Suzy laughed.
Ansh swore revenge.

And within seconds, the entire living room transformed into a battlefield of laughter and feathers. Cushions flew across the hall. Someone's hair clip shot across the room like a missile. Aanya was on her knees laughing uncontrollably while defending herself with two pillows at once. Bella was running for her life. Suzy was hiding behind the sofa. Nisha was chasing Ansh across the room.

And no one — absolutely no one — knew how the fight started anymore.

They only knew it was fun.

The kind of fun that only happens when family stops being formal and starts being real.

Aanya had just landed a perfect throw on Bella when suddenly—

KNOCK KNOCK BOOM—

The main gate opened. But no one heard it. They were too busy screaming and laughing.

Suzy  threw a pillow that flew high in the air, spinning slowly like a white cloud...
...just as a tall, well-dressed figure stepped into the mansion.

THUD!
It hit Ishaan Mehra right in the face.

The laughter stopped instantly.

The feathers kept falling.

And everyone stared at him in absolute horror — except Aanya, who was standing at the center of the chaos, holding a pillow in her hand, breathless, messy-haired, glowing...

Completely unaware that her husband just got attacked.
___

Ishaan blinked, still trying to process the pillow attack.

Before he even regained balance—

THUD!

Another pillow hit him square in the chest.

This time, his breath caught.

Because the person who threw it stood right in front of him... unaware of who she had just attacked.

Aanya.
His Aanya.
His wife.
His Rose.

She tossed the pillow with such carefree energy, laughing as she targeted Bella again — until a sudden gust of scattered feathers drifted, revealing him.

Ishaan's world stopped.

Aanya froze too.

Their eyes met through the snowfall of feathers — hers glowing with shock, his overflowing with love, longing, and two years of ache. For a moment, everyone and everything disappeared. No pillow fight. No noise. No families.

Just the two of them standing across a room filled with flying white fur — like the universe had set the stage just for them.

Her breath hitched. He took a single step forward.

But—

THUMP!

Out of nowhere, Ansh launched a pillow that hit Ishaan so hard that he stumbled sideways.

The magic cracked. The world came rushing back. And the Verma mansion echoed with laughter as Ishaan Mehra — the most feared businessman — got caught in the middle of a ridiculous, chaotic, feather-filled pillow fight.

And yet, even with confusion buzzing around them...

Aanya's eyes kept finding him.

And Ishaan?

He was already lost in hers.

___

The living room fell into silence as if someone had suddenly pressed a mute button. Servants hurried in all directions, sweeping the feathery chaos from the floor, sofas, and even the chandelier. Mr. and Mrs. Verma arrived from the hallway with equal parts shock and amusement on their faces, while the Mehra family slowly settled onto the couches, dusting faint feathers from their clothes.

Within ten minutes, the mansion looked perfectly normal again — spotless, peaceful, dignified.

But the girls?

They were anything but calm.

Aanya leaned against the kitchen counter dramatically. "Oh god, Bella... you embarrassed me in front of my in-laws," she groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

"I embarrassed you?" Bella snorted. "Darling, you're the one who threw a pillow at Ishaan like he was your personal target."

Aanya facepalmed again. "Well... the shot was good at least," Suzy added proudly.

All three burst into uncontrollable laughter, leaning on each other for support.

Behind them, a maid prepared snacks and tea for the guests, completely unfazed by the chaos.

In the Living Room

Conversations drifted from formal to friendly. Light teasing, small complaints, fond reminders — until Mrs. Mehra finally straightened her saree, exhaled slowly, and spoke with gentle seriousness.

"Disha... I think you should cancel this party."

Mrs. Verma frowned immediately. "Why? We arranged it for Nisha and Aransh's award celebration, and also for Aanya's return."

"Yes," Mrs. Mehra agreed softly, "but we came here today to talk about something important. And once that is settled... I don't think a small gathering will be enough. You will need a grand celebration."

Everyone looked at her, confused.

"What is it, Ishwari?" Mrs. Verma asked.

Mrs. Mehra exchanged a meaningful glance with Ishaan. He gave a small, steady nod.

"We've decided," Mrs. Mehra said, "to bring Aanya back to the Mehra mansion. But this time... properly. With rituals. With blessings. With happiness — no force, no revenge, no pain."

Mrs. Verma blinked. "I... I don't understand."

"I want Ishaan and Aanya to marry again," Mrs. Mehra explained, voice warm. "With Aanya's consent. With her happiness. I want to welcome her again as my daughter-in-law — the right way."

A slow smile bloomed on Mrs. Verma's lips. "Really?"

She exhaled, relief softening her eyes.

"Well, this time we won't interfere. Last time we pressured her... and we were wrong. This time the decision must be hers. If Aanya agrees — then we have no objection."

Mr. Verma and Aransh both nodded in quiet agreement.

Back in the Kitchen – 

The girls were still laughing breathlessly when the maid approached with the snack tray in hand.

Aanya's eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief.

Bella noticed immediately. "Oh no... what is cooking inside that mind of yours?"

Aanya smirked. "Why don't I check whether Mr. Ishaan Mehra has truly changed... or is he still that angry man with zero self-control?"

"And how exactly will you test that?" Bella asked suspiciously.

"By making tea," Aanya replied.

Bella and Suzy exchanged confused looks.

Aanya turned to the maid. "Payal, take the snacks. Tell them Aanya ma'am is preparing tea and will bring it herself."

Payal nodded and left with the tray.

The moment she was gone, Aanya slid the actual tea to the side, grabbed a separate pot, poured water, added tea leaves...

And a full spoon of salt.

Bella stared with horror. Suzy's jaw dropped. "Di... you're going to make your husband drink salted tea?"

"Shh, Suzy," Aanya whispered dramatically. "Let's see if Mr. Mehra can drink this. It's just a test, baby."

Bella sighed. "You are unbelievable."

Aanya winked.

Suddenly Nisha entered the kitchen, glanced at the tea, and raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. If you add red chili powder... the test will be even more fun."

All three gasped loudly.

"Di!" Bella squeaked. "That's your brother! You're letting your sister-in-law torture him like this?"

Nisha tossed her hair with pride. "In this house, he is only my sister-in-law's husband. Not my brother. So yes — if my SIL wants to test her husband, I fully support her."

Aanya winked at Nisha.
Nisha winked back.

The four girls burst into wild laughter.

"Oh God," Bella groaned dramatically. "Let's see if poor Ishaan can survive even a sip of this poison."

___

Aanya walked into the living room with the tray balanced gracefully in her hands, the fragrance of fresh tea filling the air — though only she knew the truth behind that scent. Aransh and ansh watched her with suspiciously raised eyebrows, catching the glint of mischief she could not hide. Yet neither exposed her; they simply shared a silent exchange.

One by one, she offered tea to everyone — Mrs. Mehra, Mr.dinesh, sikha , Mr. Verma, Mrs. Verma, Karan, Jay, and Jiya.
Then finally... she reached Ishaan.

She lowered the cup before him and leaned in just slightly, the faintest playful smile curving her lips. And then — she winked.

Ishaan's breath caught in his throat. A blush crept up his neck.
She walked away before he could say anything, positioning herself beside the sofa, her posture calm... but her eyes fixed completely on him.

Bella, Suzy, and Nisha stood near her, all four girls staring at Ishaan like hungry hawks, waiting for the explosion they expected.

Everyone drank their tea normally.

Except Ishaan.

He lifted the cup to his lips slowly — too slowly — like a man walking toward his own execution. The moment the salted, spicy mixture touched his tongue, something inside him screamed. This was not tea. This was torture in liquid form.
But on the outside?

Not a flinch. Not a blink. Not a single twitch. He swallowed calmly... as if he were drinking the finest tea ever brewed. Because if his Rose had prepared it, he could drink poison without a complaint.

This? This was nothing.

Aanya's eyes widened. Bella's jaw dropped. nisha clutched her chest dramatically. suzy whispered under her breath, "Oh my God... he actually drank it?"

But Ishaan continued sipping elegantly, expression unreadable, eyes occasionally glancing at Aanya with a softness that melted her resolve.

By the time he finished the last drop, Aanya was deeply confused — and secretly impressed.

Then suddenly... Ishaan rose from his seat.

All attention in the room turned to him at once.
Aanya froze.

Why is he coming toward me? Oh no... he's going to scold me here... in front of everyone... I knew it... I shouldn't have made that stupid tea...

She stiffened as he approached, her heart racing. Ishaan stopped right in front of her.

Aanya shut her eyes tightly, ready for the inevitable scolding — but it never came.

Instead...

The room gasped.

She opened her eyes and saw Ishaan Mehra — the most powerful businessman in the city — kneeling in front of her on one knee. again. A bouquet of crimson roses held gently in his hand.

Behind them, both the Mehra and Verma families were frozen in shock, some with their hands over their mouths.

Aanya's breath left her body as if someone had pulled the world from beneath her feet.

"ishaan—" she whispered, trying to pull him up, panic in her eyes. "Ishaan, what are you doing? Everyone is watching... please stand up..."

But he didn't move. If anything, he steadied himself more, his gaze locked on her with unwavering intensity.

He held the bouquet out even closer.

She hesitantly took it — hands trembling.

Then Ishaan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it slowly. The soft click echoed through the quiet room like a heartbeat.

Aanya's throat tightened painfully.

Ishaan inhaled deeply — every ounce of fear, longing, and love visible in his eyes.

"Rose," he said quietly, voice thick with emotion,
"will you marry me?"

Silence settled over the living room so heavily that even the air felt afraid to move.

Ishaan was still on his knees — one hand holding the open ring box, the other bracing against the floor, as if the ground itself was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His chest rose and fell unevenly, every breath sounding like a prayer.

Aanya stared at him... frozen.

Her throat tightened, her fingers trembling around the bouquet. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.

Two years. Two long years. Two years of distance, hurt, longing, questions, healing... Two years of a love that refused to die.

And now the man who once broke her, the man who rebuilt himself for her... was kneeling at her feet like she was the only truth he had ever believed in.

"Aanya..." Ishaan whispered, his voice unsteady. "Please... say something. Don't make me guess again. Don't make me live another second without knowing your heart."

Something inside her cracked.

Her lips parted, but no words came. She looked at him — this foolish, stubborn man — and suddenly her memories flooded her all at once:

Him waiting outside verma mansion in chill night just for her one glance...
His laughter when she teased him...
His broken voice the day they fought...
His empty eyes when she walked away...
His trembling hands last night when he kissed her like a starving man returning to life...

A sob rose in her chest.

He saw it — and panic hit his features.
"Aanya... please don't cry. I— I never wanted to hurt you again. I want to do everything right this time. Every ritual, every vow... but only if you want it. Only if you choose me. Only if your happiness leads you back to me."

His voice cracked on the last word.

He lowered his gaze for a second, and she saw it — the fear. The fear of losing her again. The fear of hearing no. The fear of destroying himself a second time.

Aanya swallowed hard. Her voice trembled as she finally spoke: "Ishaan... do you even know what you're asking me?"

He looked up instantly, desperate. "Everything. I'm asking you for everything. Your mornings, your nights, your fights, your laughter... your anger, your chaos, your heart. I'm asking for a lifetime, Rose."

Her tears spilled.

Ishaan closed his eyes, a tear slipping free. "Please... don't punish me anymore. Let me love you. Let me fix everything I ruined."

She knelt slowly in front of him — her knees touching his — and lifted her trembling hands to his face.

His breath hitched as her palms cupped his cheeks.

"I'm not here to punish you," she whispered. "I'm here becuse i want to-i want to give you a chance."

Ishaan's entire body went still — like someone had pressed pause on his heartbeat.

Then Aanya took a deep breath, her eyes locked with his, the trembling in her voice giving way to something stronger, something certain.

"Yes, Ishaan. I will marry you."

Ishaan inhaled sharply — a sound mixed with relief, disbelief, love, and a deep ache that finally loosened its grip.

His eyes flooded instantly.

"Aanya..." he whispered, broken and whole at the same time.

She smiled through her tears. "Yes."

That was all he needed.

His head fell forward against her forehead, breath shuddering, tears escaping freely. His hands gripped her waist like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

Behind them, both families exhaled together — some wiping tears, some smiling softly, some whispering prayers.

But Ishaan? He was gone. Completely undone. He pressed his forehead to hers, voice trembling violently. "Thank you... thank you for coming back to me... for choosing me again... for giving me a life I don't even deserve."

Aanya wiped his tears with her thumb, whispering, "Just don't break me again, Ishaan. Hold me... but never hurt me."

"I swear," he breathed, kissing her knuckles. "On every breath I take. Never again."

And there, in the middle of two families, amidst rose petals, half-finished tea cups, and hearts that had broken and healed...

Ishaan slipped the ring onto her finger.

The room erupted in applause. But for Ishaan and Aanya, the world had already narrowed down to only two heartbeats — finally in the same rhythm again.

Still wrapped in each other's arms, their eyes closed, breaths mingling, foreheads leaning together like they were afraid the moment might vanish if they moved even an inch... Ishaan let out a soft, dramatic whisper.

"Aanya..."

Her fingers curled on the back of his shirt. "Hmm?" she replied gently, her voice still trembling from crying and smiling all at once.

He paused for a second, as if he were about to say something meaningful again—something poetic, something that would make her heart melt.

Then he whispered, helplessly, "Please... give me some water. That tea was extremely spicy yrr."

Aanya pulled back just enough to glare at him—then smacked his arm lightly.

Ishaan winced, dramatically again, rubbing his shoulder. Behind them, the entire family burst into laughter, their tension melting instantly. Even Aanya's lips parted into an unwilling smile, her cheeks warming. Ishaan grinned like a guilty child, proud that he made her hit him, proud that she was smiling because of him.

____

After the teasing died down,  spending all day togather its evening time  the family drifted away giving them space out of respect, Ishaan and Aanya found themselves in the quiet corner of the house—her room's balcony, the evening sky stretched above them like velvet sprinkled with stars.

Soft fairy lights glowed around the railing, the breeze playing gently with Aanya's hair. Ishaan stood behind her, sliding his arms around her waist slowly, almost reverently, as if afraid she might disappear again. She leaned back into him without hesitation, her head resting beneath his chin, their bodies fitting together with a familiarity that made both of them exhale deeply.

For a while, they said nothing. They simply existed — in warmth, in silence, in the comfort they had starved for.

Finally, Ishaan lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, voice heavy with emotion, "You know... when you walked away from me that day,  you said you will come back, but someher deep inside i was scared. I thought that was it. I thought I had lost every right to this... to you."

Aanya turned slightly, her fingers brushing lightly over the hand he had wrapped around her waist. "You never lost me," she whispered. "You only forgot how to hold me."

Her words hit him like a soft punch straight to the heart. He tightened his hold around her, pulling her even closer. His forehead pressed to the side of her head, his breath shaky.

"I'll never forget again," he murmured. "Not even for a second. I'll hold you like this, even in my sleep."

Aanya turned completely now, facing him, her chest brushing against his. The moonlight caught her eyes — wet, hopeful, glowing. She placed her palms flat on his chest, right where his heart thudded hard beneath her touch.

"And I'll stay," she said softly. "Just... don't stop choosing me."

Ishaan cupped her face with trembling hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks as he leaned down, kissing her slowly, deeply — a kiss filled with apology, longing, devotion, and the ache of having almost lost each other. Their breaths tangled, their fingers curled into each other's clothes, not with urgency but with desperate tenderness.

The world outside faded. Only the two of them existed. Only the promise they silently sealed between their lips. When they finally pulled apart, foreheads touching, Ishaan whispered, voice barely steady, "Welcome home, Rose."

Aanya smiled, soft and fragile and beautiful. "Thank you... for finding me again." for choosing me." he wishper.

And he kissed her once more — gentle this time — as if imprinting onto her the vow he had carved inside his heart: He would never let her go again.

This story is near to end

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