Tamaatar kahin ke!

Dekho na kaisi ijaazat mili hai...

Ek doosre mein hifaazat mili hai...

Jeene ki saari zaroorat mili hai...

Ye jaam hi hai jaisa hai...

Yunhi hamesha hamesha rahe jis tarah...

HAPPY READING GUYSS❤️🦋

______________________________________

Nitaanshu had already gotten ready and left for office. He was the district collector, and today, after days of staying home, duty had finally called him back. Before stepping out, he had quietly walked into the room one last time, just to look at Keerti.

She was still asleep, curled up on the bed like a small, innocent child, her face peaceful, untouched by the world's worries. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her breathe softly, memorizing that calm expression, as if he could carry it with him through the long day ahead. All his leaves were over now, and reality had returned, files, meetings, responsibilities.

Yet, as he walked out, his heart stayed behind... with the girl sleeping unaware that her husband had already left, carrying her image with him like a quiet comfort.

Keerti came downstairs after getting ready and saw Rekha and Shaurya sitting together, sipping tea. Shaurya was teasing Rekha lightly, making her laugh like they were young lovers all over again.

Watching them from a distance, Keerti instinctively waved her hand in the air as if warding off nazar and murmured with a soft smile that their love was still just as beautiful.

Just then, the house phone rang. Rekha picked it up, and it was Nitaanshu on the line.

"maa Keerti ji uth gayi kya??"

(“Maa, has Keerti ji woken up?”)

Rekha's eyes shifted toward Keerti, and she motioned her to come closer. Handing her the phone, she said gently,

"betaa tumhare liye call aaya hai"

(“Beta, you have a call.”)

And with a knowing smile, she quietly walked away, leaving them alone.

Keerti lifted the phone to her ear, and from the other side came his slightly impatient voice,

"maa bataaiye na keerti jii uth gayi ya nahi"

(“Maa, please tell me… has Keerti ji woken up or not?”)

Hearing her own name in his voice made her cheeks turn pink instantly. She answered softly,

"Ji, mai uth gayi hu"

("Ji, mai uth gayi hu")

The moment Nitaanshu heard her, his heartbeat picked up. He scrambled for words, suddenly shy for no reason.

"a... vo... vo mai maa se aapke baare me isliye puch raha tha kyunki mujhe jaana tha ki aap theek to hai... aapke pair ka dard ab kaisa hai?"

(“A… well… I was asking Maa about you because I just wanted to know if you’re okay… how is the pain in your leg now?”)

Keerti smiled to herself and let out a tiny chuckle.

"ab dard nahi haiii... kal aapke haath ka halwa kha kar dard thikk ho gaya... davaai se zyada shayad aapka halwa asardaar tha"

(“No, there’s no pain now… after eating your halwa yesterday, it got better. Maybe your halwa was more effective than the medicine.”)

Nitaanshu felt his ears heat up at her words and replied softly, almost shyly,

"Aap kahengi to aur halwa bana dungaa aapke liye."

(“If you say so, I’ll make more halwa for you.”)

Keerti teased him, smiling,

"kyu, aapko sirf halwa banaane aata hai kya?"

(“Why, is halwa the only thing you know how to make?”)

He laughed, his voice warm and playful,

"Aapko jo khaana pasand ho aap bataa dijiye, mai aapke liye halwaai ban jaaunga... aur jo nahi aaega vo Sikh lungaa."

(“Just tell me what food you like… I’ll become your personal cook… and whatever I don’t know, I’ll learn.”)

Something about the way he said it wrapped around Keerti's heart, that quiet care, that effortless warmth. It felt familiar, safe... the kind of comfort she'd only ever felt with her parents.

She said softly, half-serious, half-shy,

"Mai aapse khaana banvaaungi to mujhe paap lagega na... dadi ne kaha hai aisa."

(“If I make you cook for me, I’ll be committing a sin, right… Grandma has said so.”)

He chuckled, clearly amused,

"aapki dadi bohot bolti hai lagta hai."

(“Your grandmother talks a lot, it seems.”)

Keerti gasped dramatically,

"aap meri dadi ki buraayi kar rahe hain??"

(“Are you speaking ill of my grandmother?”)

Trying not to laugh, he replied innocently,

"Naa... mai aapki dadi ki buraayi kaise kar sakta hun... aap mahaan... aapki dadi mahaan."

(“No… how could I ever speak ill of your grandmother… you are great… and your grandmother is also great.”)

Keerti asked softly, curiosity slipping into her voice,

"Vaise aap itni subha subha taiyaar hoke kaha Gaye ho?"

(“By the way, where have you gone so early in the morning after getting ready?”)

Nitaanshu replied gently,

"Kaam pe aaya hu, chuttiyan khatam hogayi thi meri."

(“I’ve come to work… my leave was over.”)

She paused for a second, then asked,

"Aap kyaa kaam karte ho?"

(“What work do you do?”)

He smiled on the other end of the call, a little surprised,

"kyu aapko pata nahi hai?"

(“Why? Don’t you know?”)

Keerti said honestly, her tone simple and sincere,

"nahi, baba ne aapko mere liye chuna tha... isliye maine unse aapke baare me koi sawaal nahi kiya."

(“No… Baba chose you for me, that’s why I didn’t ask him any questions about you.”)

There was something tender in the silence that followed, the kind that comes when someone trusts you without conditions.

Nitaanshu finally said softly,

"koi baat nahi... mai ghar aakar tumhe apne baare me sab batata hun."

(“It’s alright… I’ll come home and tell you everything about myself.”)

Keerti laughed softly, her voice warm and teasing,

"Accha ab chaliye kaam kar lijiye, Varna daant padegi aapko."

(“Alright, now go and get to work, otherwise you’ll get scolded.”)

She was about to disconnect when his voice hurriedly stopped her, almost like he didn't want the moment to end,

"sunooo toh."

("Listen nahi")

Her lips curved into a small smile.

"Haan, kahiye."

("Yes")

There was a tiny pause on the other side before he asked, concern slipping into his tone,

"aapne khana khaya?"

(“Have you eaten?”)

Keerti's heart melted a little. She pretended to be annoyed but her voice carried a quiet fondness.

"aap phone rakhenge tab naa mai kuch khaa paaungi."

(“I won’t be able to eat anything unless you hang up the phone.”)

He chuckled softly, that familiar laugh that somehow made her feel safe.

"sorry... aap jaaiye khaa lijiye... mai thodi der baad call karke aapse puchunga?"

(“Sorry… go ahead and eat… I’ll call you later and check on you, okay?”)

She grinned, eyes shining as she teased him,

"aap to baba jaisi baatein kar rahe hai... maine to pehle hi kaha tha aap budhe hogaye hain,"

(“You’re talking just like Baba… I told you before too, you’ve become old.”)

and burst into laughter.

On the other end, he made an exaggerated, wounded sound,

"Keertii jiiiiiiii, aapko ghar aakar bataate hain... abhi aap kuch khaa lijiye."

(“Keerti ji… I’ll tell you everything when I get home. For now, please eat something.”)

Keerti hugged the phone closer to her ear, still smiling like a shy schoolgirl, her heart strangely full. Even a simple question about food felt like care, like belonging, and that thought stayed with her long after the call ended.

Keerti wandered into the kitchen, looking for Rekha, and found her already busy, pallu tucked in, vegetables spread across the counter, knife moving rhythmically.

The warmth of the kitchen, the soft clatter of utensils, everything made Keerti feel oddly at home.

She walked up to her and gently took the knife from her hand.

"laaiye maa, mai bana sabjiya kaat deti hu."

(“Give them to me, Maa… I’ll chop the vegetables.”)

Rekha immediately pulled the knife back, worry flashing in her eyes.

"Aree beta, tum kuch mat karo, tumhare haathon me chot lagi hui hai na."

(“Oh beta, don’t do anything… your hand is injured, isn’t it?”)

Keerti pouted slightly, trying to sound brave.

"maa, ab haath theek hogaya hai,"

(“Maa, my hand is fine now.”)

and once again reached for the knife.

"laaiye, mai sabjiya kaat deti hu."

(“Give it to me, I’ll chop the vegetables.”)

Rekha snatched it back again, shaking her head firmly.

"nahi, tum nahi karogi."

(“No, you won’t do it.”)

Between them, a tiny tug-of-war began, not out of anger, but out of love. Keerti wanted to help, Rekha wanted to protect her. Their soft bickering filled the kitchen with a strange kind of warmth.

Just then, Shaurya walked in, amused at the scene.

"Ye kyaa ho raha hai tum dono ke beech?"

(“What is going on between you two?”)

Keerti turned to him instantly, like a child complaining to her father.

"dekhiye na papa, maa mujhe sabjiya nahi kaatne de rahi hai."

(“See, Papa… Maa isn’t letting me chop the vegetables.”)

Rekha defended herself just as quickly,

"dekhiye na... bahu ke haath me abhi chot lagi hui hai aur ise sabjiya kaatni hai,"

(“Look… the daughter-in-law still has an injury on her hand, and she wants to chop vegetables.”)

saying this, she gently but firmly took the knife out of Keerti's hands again.

Shaurya stepped in between them, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"tum dono mese koi sabjiyan nahi kaatega... mai kaat deta hu,"

(“Neither of you will chop the vegetables… I’ll do it.”)

he said, gently taking the knife from Rekha's hand.

"jaaiye aap dono bahar, baith kar aaram kijiye aur apne andar ki saas-bahu ko sulaa dena, aur ladaai mat karna ab."

(“Both of you go outside, sit and rest… and put the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law drama to sleep for now. No more arguments.”)

Rekha burst into a laugh and lovingly pulling his cheeks. Then, patting his back, she said proudly,

"ye hui na ek acchi pati jaisi baat,"

(“Now that sounds like something a good husband would say.”)

and with dramatic flair, flipped her hair and added,

"chalo Keerti, hum bahar chalke aaram kar lete hain... aaj saara kaam ye hi karenge."

(“Come on, Keerti, let’s go outside and rest… he’ll handle all the work today.”)

Shaurya quickly defended himself, slightly alarmed.

"par maine to sirf sabjiyan kaatne ke liye kaha tha!"

(“But I only said I’ll chop the vegetables!”)

Rekha cupped his face softly, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"aap mere liye itna nahi kar sakte...?"

(“Can’t you do even this much for me…?”)

Watching their effortless romance unfold right in front of her, Keerti's cheeks turned bright red. Feeling awkward, she cleared her throat loudly,

"ahem ahem."

Rekha instantly looked at her, stepping a little away from Shaurya her own face now glowing with shy embarrassment, while Shaurya tried very hard not to smile.

Keerti said softly, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her dupatta,

"maa, mai kal apni pehli rasoi ki rasm puri nahi kar paayi thi... aaj aap sabke liye halwa bana doon?"

(“Maa, I couldn’t complete my first cooking ritual yesterday… can I make halwa for everyone today?”)

Rekha smiled warmly and gently held her hand, guiding her out of the kitchen.

"iski zarurat nahi hai beta... tumhare badle Nitaanshu ne rasm puri kar li thi."

(“There’s no need for that, beta… Nitaanshu had already completed the ritual in your place.”)

Keerti slowly pulled her hand back, her eyes full of quiet determination.

"maa, karne dijiye na... mera bohot mann hai. Aur rasm puri nahi ki to paap lagega na mujhe."

(“Maa, please let me do it… I really want to. And if I don’t complete the ritual, I’ll feel like it’s wrong for me.”)

Rekha sighed in defeat, placing a hand on her forehead dramatically before breaking into a fond smile.

"jaisa tumhara mann kare, betaa,"

(“As you wish, beta.”)

she said, pulling Keerti's cheeks lovingly,

"jaao bana lo... par dhyaan se banana, chot mat laga lena ab."

(“Go ahead and make it… but be careful, don’t hurt yourself again.”)

Keerti's face lit up like a child who'd just been given permission to do something precious.

Keerti went back into the kitchen, her steps light, her heart even lighter. She began gathering ingredients for the halwa, moving carefully but with quiet excitement.

Shaurya looked up and said gently,

"kya hua beta, tumhe aaraam nahi karna hai?"

(“What happened, beta? Don’t you want to rest?”)

Keerti smiled, her eyes shining.

"papa, kal rasm nahi kar paayi thi na… isliye aaj aap sabke liye kuch banaane jaa rahi hu. Maa ne bhi haan keh di hai."

(“Papa, I couldn’t complete the ritual yesterday… so today I’m going to make something for all of you. Maa has also agreed.”)

Shaurya chuckled warmly.

"jab Rekha ne haan keh di hai… toh mai kaun hota hoon rokne waala,"

(“When Rekha has agreed… who am I to stop you?”)

then, glancing sideways at Rekha, he added casually,

"vaise, Nitaanshu ko gaajar ka halwa bohot pasand hai."

(“By the way, Nitaanshu really likes gajar ka halwa.”)

Keerti’s face instantly lit up, as if someone had switched on a lamp inside her heart. Without another word, she reached for the carrots, already imagining his smile when he’d taste it.

Nearby, Shaurya started preparing vegetables, while Rekha moved around the kitchen with him, the two of them laughing, bumping shoulders, teasing each other, like old friends reunited after years apart, comfortable, warm, effortless.

Soon, the entire house was wrapped in the sweet, comforting aroma of gajar ka halwa, the kind of smell that didn’t just fill rooms, but quietly settled into hearts.

Nitaanshu had just reached home, all eager to see Keerti. In his hand was a fresh gajra, he’d picked it up on the way, wanting to surprise her, imagining how beautiful it would look in her hair.

The moment he stepped inside, a sweet, comforting fragrance wrapped around him. Gajar ka halwa. His stomach growled instantly, but more than hunger, it was curiosity — and something warmer — that pulled him straight toward the kitchen.

Shaurya had already finished cooking and left, and Keerti was alone inside, softly humming, swaying a little as she stirred the halwa. Nitaanshu leaned against the doorframe, watching her like that, lost in her own world, smiling to herself — and his heart melted a little more than he was ready to admit.

"haaye, meri biwi," he said under his breath.

Keerti heard him.

She turned around, startled at first, then instantly glowing.

"Aap aa gaye! Dekhiye, maine aapke liye halwa banaya hai… vo bhi gaajar ka."

(“You’re back! Look, I’ve made halwa for you… gaajar ka halwa.”)

Nitaanshu walked closer, inhaling deeply.

"khushboo toh bohot acchi aa rahi hai,"

(“Hmm… the aroma smells really good.”)

he said, his voice softer now, not just about the halwa.

As he stepped nearer, a few strands of Keerti’s hair fell across her face. Without thinking, he gently tucked them behind her ear. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent her heartbeat racing.

Keerti’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red, her fingers tightening slightly around the spoon, while Nitaanshu just stood there, suddenly forgetting about the halwa altogether, because right then, nothing smelled sweeter than her.

Nitaanshu looked at Keerti and said softly,

"bohot Sundar lag rahi ho aap aaj."

(“You’re looking very beautiful today.”)

Keerti instantly lowered her eyes, her lips curving into a shy smile, her heart fluttering at the way he said it so simply, yet so sincerely.

Then he added,

"mai aapke liye kuch laaya hoon…"

(“I’ve brought something for you…”)

Keerti immediately looked up, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"kyaa laaye ho aap mere liye?"

(“What have you brought for me?”)

Nitaanshu slipped his hand into his pocket and said, trying to sound casual,

"zara peeche ghumo na."

(“Turn around for a moment.”)

Keerti narrowed her eyes playfully.

"kyu?"

("Why?")

He laughed softly.

"aap bohot sawaal karti hain… ghumiye na peeche ek baar."

(“You ask too many questions… just turn around once, please.”)

Still suspicious but smiling, Keerti turned around.

In that quiet little moment, Nitaanshu pulled out the gajra and gently tucked it into her hair. The soft jasmine brushed her neck, and before she could even turn back, he said,

"ab aur bhi zyada Sundar lag rahi hain aap."

(“You look even more beautiful now.”)

Keerti turned to face him, her ey

es wide for a second, then warm, glowing. Meanwhile, Nitaanshu’s cheeks had turned unmistakably red, the kind that happens when emotions slip past control.

She chuckled softly and teased,

"Tamaatar kahin ke."

And just like that, he burst into laughter too, the kind that comes from happiness you don’t even try to hide.