Next Morning –
The golden rays of the sun melted into the fresh morning breeze as Iraaya stepped out, draped in a breathtaking yellow organza saree that danced with the wind. Her soft curls were adorned with jasmine, her bangles chiming softly as she adjusted her pallu.
Pankti glowed in a sunshine-yellow suit, her eyes sparkling with joy, while Sanya and Amrita walked down the stairs hand-in-hand, twinning adorably in nayra-cut suits, radiating the infectious energy of celebration.
The Aditya, Ranveer, Neel and Lakshya weren’t far behind, dressed in different shades of yellow kurtas paired with crisp white pyjamas—elegant, confident, and adding their own charm to the function.
The Garden for Haldi function –
The garden had transformed into a floral paradise. Yellow and white marigolds draped from canopies, mogras woven into dreamcatchers, and rose petals scattered along the pathway. Fragrance mingled with laughter. It felt like the garden itself was glowing.
In the center sat Rihaan, on a low wooden stool, laughing nervously. On the other side of a delicate white transparent cloth partition, sat his blushing bride-to-be Aadhya, glowing even through the veil.
The air was filled with giggles, shlokas softly playing in the background, and dhol beats slowly picking up rhythm.
From the main entry, arrived the elder ladies—each step regal, each hand carrying tradition.
Joshana Dharmesh Rajput, the matriarch, led the way with the haldi bowl, her eyes moist yet smiling. She gently applied turmeric on her grandson’s forehead, blessing him with a trembling hand.
Deepika Rajput, Rihaan’s mother, followed with a proud yet teary smile. Then came Suhashini Yashvardhan Raghuvanshi, Vedika Tej Raghuvanshi, and Chitra Vikram Raghuvanshi, all applying haldi with love, giggles, and warm teasing.
Meanwhile, Dharmesh Rajput sat under a shaded corner, sipping tea with Yashvardhan Raghuvanshi, both laughing over old happy tales.
Sanjay Rajput, Rihaan’s father, stood with Tej and Vikram Raghuvanshi, exchanging nods of pride and silent understanding.
As the haldi thickened into golden layers on Rihaan’s face, Vedansh, who had been standing nearby with arms crossed, let out an audible sigh. His face scrunched like he’d smelled something foul, and he stepped back with an expression of dramatic annoyance.
“Ugh, it stinks ,” he muttered under his breath, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tissue pack like it was a weapon.
He handed one to Rihaan, scowling.
“Clean yourself, idiot.”
Rihaan, grinning like a sun-soaked menace, rubbed more haldi near his jaw just to annoy him and teased,
“Ha ha... kar le tu nakhre. Jab teri shaadi hogi na, main bhi dekh lunga tujhe.”
He smirked, waiting—expecting Vedansh to throw one of his classic scathing one-liners: ‘i am never going to marry’, or ‘i hate the word marriage ’—anything sarcastic and defensive.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, Vedansh just stood there. Silent. Brows faintly furrowed, eyes distant. Almost… thoughtful?
Rihaan blinked. “Bro? Tu theek hai na?”
But Vedansh wasn’t listening.
Vedansh’s POV
"Sugar… you’re having too much effect on me."
"Haldi, shaadi, laughter… the stuff I used to mock. The word ‘marriage’ once made my fists clench and fill my brain with rage. And now? That same word pulls your face into my thoughts.
The way you’d laugh teasingly in most simple white top and denim jeans… the way your fingers would gently hold my face. All of this makes me addicted to you .
What is wrong with me? I’m standing in a garden that smells like marigold, mustard and turmeric but all I can think about… is you.
Damn it, sugar."
Back in real time, Vedansh blinked back into the present just in time to see Rihaan waving his turmeric-covered hand dangerously close to his shirt.
“i dare you touch me and I will see how the hell your wedding happens,” Vedansh warned, though there was a strange softness under his sharp tone.
Rihaan chuckled, “mujhe teri dhamki mein damki wali feeling kyu nahi aa rahi . Kya baat hai ?”
Vedansh tossed a petal at his head in response, but his smile lingered.
Now came the younger ones.
Shaurya politely dabbed a little haldi on Rihaan’s cheek, earning a warm smile. But then came the notorious duo: Vivaan and Samaira.
With devilish smirks, they attacked—smearing haldi all over Rihaan's face, neck, and even his ears. “Ye lo bridal glow! Rihaan bhaisa” Samaira joked, while Rihaan half-shouted, half-laughed, “samaira ki bachi I will not leave you”
Vivaan said " don't worry bhaisa is chipkali ko toh main dekhta hoon"
And runs after her.
Samaira " pahle pakad toh sahi chimpanzee" and shr runs.
As Samaira turned to run, giggling wildly, Vivaan chased after her—but just as she twirled around a corner—
—she crashed straight into Aditya.
Aditya caught her just in time, one arm around her waist, the other steadying her.
Their eyes met. The world fell silent for a brief heartbeat. Samaira’s cheeks flushed deeper than the flowers around them. Her breath caught, tangled in surprise and something else.
The moment was electric—until Vivaan stepped in.
He pulled her back gently but firmly.
Vivaan (serious): “Tu thik hai?”
Samaira (softly): “Hmm…”
Vivaan’s eyes shifted to Aditya.
Vivaan (cool but protective): “Thank you.”
Then, without another word, he walked Samaira away, leaving Aditya staring after them—his mind perhaps not as composed as his face.
From a distance, Vedansh, Rihaan, and Shaurya had noticed it all. The spark. The silence. And it made something stir in each of them—that big-brother switch flipping on.
With laughter echoing once more, shagun haldi was sent to the bride’s side in a beautifully decorated tray. Yellow bangles, turmeric, flowers, and love—all neatly packed and sent with Shaurya Samaira and Vivaan carrying teasing messages.
The celebration picked up with dhols, dancing, and petals flying in the air.
It was a morning dipped in sunshine, tradition, love, and just the right amount of drama.
Just as Rihaan launched another haldi-coated petal at Vedansh, the energy shifted.
She walked in.
Iraaya.
Clad in a sunlit yellow organza saree, the delicate fabric danced in the breeze like poetry. She didn’t walk, she glided—as if she belonged to the garden itself. Her hair fell in soft waves, her smile effortless yet magnetic, and with every step, the golden morning seemed to echo her presence.
Sanya and Amrita followed, twinning in their cheerful Nayra-cut suits, laughing about something—but all eyes were on Iraaya, even if no one dared say it aloud.
Vedansh stiffened.
For a man who’d taken bullets without flinching, the sudden flutter in his chest was… annoying.
Vedansh's inner voice:
"Speak of the devil… and she walks in like she owns every damn flower here."
He looked away—but too late.
Their eyes met.
A pause. A knowing. A thread, pulled taut.
She nodded slightly. A soft, knowing gesture. As if to say, I see you. But I won’t call it out. Not yet.
And that made it worse.
Vedansh’s POV:
"Nope. Not now, Sugar."
"You walk in like a storm in silk, and now my lungs can’t breathe without you clouding them."
"I should roll my eyes. Be cold. But instead, I’m wondering how haldi would look on your cheeks."
"That smile—don’t flash that smile, Iraaya. I’m dangerous. Not the man you smile at in sunshine."
"And yet… damn it… I want to be."
Meanwhile, Rihaan, watching like this was the best episode of his life, leaned over and whispered:
“Beautiful, isn’t she?”
Vedansh gave him a side glare. “Shut up. You’re getting married in less than 24 hours, idiot.”
Rihaan (grinning): “So?”
Vedansh: “You want me to call your college flings here and introduce them to Aadhya?”
Rihaan froze.
“You’re joking, right?”
Vedansh: “Try me.”
Rihaan (horrified): “Nooo! Bhai, please. Aadhya will divorce me before the wedding even happens!”
Vedansh (smirking): “Serves you right.”
At that moment, Samaira walked forward, handing over the shagun haldi bowl to Aadhya’s mother.
The elders from the bride’s side stepped up first to apply turmeric to Aadhya—tender strokes, blessings wrapped in yellow.
Then came the trio—Samaira, Vivaan, and Shaurya—each stepping forward with a bright grin.
All three in unison:
“Welcome to the family, Aadhya Bhabhi-sa!” (Sister-in-law)
And then… the girls’ side declared war.
Haldi Holi had begun.
Sanya smeared haldi on Amrita’s nose. Pankti retaliated, dabbing her cheek. Aadhya, glowing and giggling, was the queen of the chaos—her laughter as golden as the turmeric itself.
Iraaya, who had just knelt to apply haldi on Aadhya’s feet, didn’t even get a moment’s peace before Aditya appeared with an evil grin and a full bowl of haldi.
“Iraaya! You evil creature, I won’t spare you today—I will avenge your cruelty!” he shouted dramatically.
Face already glowing with haldi, saree trailing like golden flame, Iraaya shrieked and bolted, laughing hysterically.
“Adi, ruk jaa! Main teri taange tod dungi! Pahle hi keh rahi hoon!”
(“Adi, stop! I swear I’ll break your legs—I’m warning you in advance!”)
She looked back once while running—a bad idea.
Thump.
Straight into a solid wall of white and yellow.
Into Vedansh.
His arms came around her instantly, catching her without thinking. Her haldi-covered hands landed squarely on his chest.
Right over his heart.
The chaos around them faded.
Vedansh looked down. At her hand. At the bright haldi stain on his pristine kurta. Then up—into her wide eyes.
One yellow-smeared curl clung to her temple. Her breath caught. His did too.
Vedansh’s POV:
"Of course. It had to be you."
"You crash into me like a hurricane dipped in turmeric, and I should be mad."
"I should yell. Snap. Be cold."
"But no. I’m just… stuck."
"Stuck in those annoyingly normal brown eyes."
“I—I didn’t mean to,” Iraaya stammered, trying to pull away.
His grip didn’t loosen right away. Then, almost reluctantly, he blinked and let her go.
He looked down at his chest again. Bright yellow-orange. Then back at her.
Vedansh (flatly):
“Obviously. No one means to ruin my clothes.”
But Rihaan—watching nearby—caught the subtle twitch at the corner of Vedansh’s lips. Not anger. Not a smile. Something else entirely.
Aditya appeared, freezing mid-step.
“Tu thik hai?”
(“You okay?”) he asked Iraaya, voice softer than usual.
She nodded, tucking her hair back.
“Haan, Adi… lekin woh…”
(“Yeah, but Adi… um…”) she gestured vaguely at Vedansh’s ruined kurta.
Seeing the tension and mess, Aditya tried to salvage the moment.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Raghuvanshi,” he said politely.
He had to be polite. After all, this was the groom's side—and Vedansh Raghuvanshi wasn’t just anyone.
Vedansh just gave a small nod, and walk away.
Not angry.
Just… complicated.
The silence that lingered after he walked away felt heavier than it should have.
Iraaya, ever the smooth operator, decided to break it with a smile.
She turned to Rihaan, tilting her head slightly and said, with just the right amount of charm:
“Congratulations, by the way. Wish you a very happy married life ahead.”
Rihaan grinned, a half-smirk playing on his lips—equal parts gratitude and mischief.
He extended his haldi-smeared hand, not caring about the mess.
“Rihaan. Rihaan Rajput,” he said, tone playful.
Iraaya arched a brow. But she played along.
“Iraaya. Iraaya Sharma”
Their hands met—warm, a little sticky with turmeric, and entirely too amusing.
Rihaan chuckled:
“Nice to meet you, Miss Haldi Missile.”
Iraaya rolled her eyes but smiled.
“Likewise, Mr. Soon-To-Be-Domesticated.”
From a distance, Vedansh glanced back briefly—just once.
Just in time to see her laughing, shaking hands with Rihaan.
Just in time to feel that irritating pang again.
His inner voice snapped:
"You were supposed to walk away, genius. Not keep looking back."