Karan and Suchitra stood nervously in front of the man sitting in a wheelchair. The warm glow of the reception lights reflected off the polished wooden floors, and soft classical music played in the background. Karan bent slightly to touch the man’s feet, seeking his blessings, while Suchitra folded her hands together and offered a respectful namaste.

Bade Papa (smiling warmly, eyes twinkling): Ah, Karan! My boy… and this must be your beautiful bride.

Gurleen (proudly, nudging Suchitra slightly): Yes, Bhaisahab. Isn’t she lovely? And such a good heart too.

Bade Papa (turning his kind gaze to Suchitra, voice gentle): Aree wah, beta… you are not just beautiful, but your eyes… they speak so much kindness.

Suchitra’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she lowered her gaze, murmuring a quiet, thank you. Karan couldn’t help but chuckle softly, reaching to cover her hand reassuringly.

Karan (grinning, teasing but proud): Meri biwi h na, bade papa!

Bade Papa (chuckling, shaking his head): Arre beta, I can see that! And you, Suchitra… you’ve found a good man. Karan has always been a handful, but I see… he has chosen wisely.

Suchitra (softly, voice barely above a whisper, looking up at him): Thank you, Bade Papa… I hope I can be as good a wife as you hope me to be.

Bade Papa (reaching out to pat her hand gently): Don’t worry, beta. From what I can see, you already are. And Karan… take care of her. She is precious.

Karan (nodding, a little emotional, voice low but firm): I will, Bade papa. I promise.

Bade Papa (smiling, his eyes moist with emotion): Good… good. That is all I wanted to see today. Both of you together, happy. Gurleen has done a fine job raising her son… and bringing you two together.

Gurleen (grinning, slightly teasing): Haan Bhaisahab, but you know, it wasn’t just me… Karan found her himself… eventually.

Bade Papa (laughing softly, shaking his head): Arre, boys and their stubbornness! But look at him now… I am proud. Truly.

Karan (playfully nudging Suchitra): See? Even Bade papa agrees with me.

Suchitra (laughing softly, hiding behind her hands): Karan! Stop showing me off!

Bade Papa (chuckling, leaning back slightly in his wheelchair): Beta, don’t worry… I enjoy seeing young love. But don’t let this happiness make you careless. Respect each other, care for each other, and your home will always be filled with joy.

Karan (smiling softly, voice earnest): I understand, Bade papa. I will.

Suchitra (gently, almost shyly): I promise too.

Bade Papa (nodding, his smile warm and approving): That is all I wanted to hear. Now, don’t keep me long… I am not very strong these days. I just came to see my Younger son happy with his bride.

Gurleen (concerned, moving closer to support him): Yes, Bhaisahab… we won’t take much of your time. Thank you for blessing them.

Bade Papa (with a gentle chuckle): Beta, the blessings are always there. But it’s seeing them together, smiling… that is the true blessing for me.

As his Care taker wheeled away slowly, Karan and Suchitra exchanged a glance. Her eyes sparkled with warmth and gratitude, and Karan’s hand found hers instinctively. Gurleen leaned closer, whispering softly.

Gurleen (whispering, proud): See, beta… he’s not just kind… he has a heart that can make anyone feel at ease. I knew you’d like him.

Suchitra (smiling, squeezing Karan’s hand gently): Yes… he is amazing… just like you said.

Karan (grinning, teasing): See? Even Bade Papa approved. You can’t get any better than this.

She rolled her eyes.

The hall suddenly filled with the echo of a cheerful voice. Everyone turned, only to find Samksh standing proudly at the center with a mic in his hand, his face lit up with a mischievous grin.

Samksh (grinning, in a professional host tone): Hello, ladies and gentlemen! I'm your host for the evening—Samksh Mehra—welcome you all and thank you for coming to celebrate the reception of my best friend, Karan, and my best Bhabhi.

A loud round of applause and whistles rang across the hall. Some even cheered his name playfully.

Samksh (dramatic pause, then with a teasing smirk): And now, let me tell you something. The Punjabis are never really Punjabi unless there’s some music, some masti, and of course… dancing. Am I right?

The crowd cheered, “Right!” and clapped even louder.

Samksh (playfully rolling his eyes): But first… before we all break the floor with our bhangra moves, why don’t we start with a little romance? Hmm? A little love in the air, some magic under the spotlight. And yes, people like me—the poor singles—will just stand on the side, watch you all, and burn quietly in jealousy.

The hall erupted in laughter at his exaggerated self-pity. Even Gurleen covered her mouth, laughing, while Parth shook his head at his friend’s antics.

Samksh (raising his hand grandly): So, ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for all the lovely couples in this hall! Don’t be shy now. It’s time to join us on stage and show us what love looks like when the music plays.

As the audience clapped and the music began to hum in the background, couples began to move towards the stage. Anvi walked hand in hand with Parth, both exchanging shy smiles. Meghna and Arjun followed, teasing each other on the way. Parth’s parents, Anjali and Raj, stepped up with graceful smiles, showing the elegance of years of togetherness. Slowly, one by one, more and more couples joined, filling the stage with pairs glowing in celebration.

Yet, amidst the crowd’s cheer, one couple was still left standing at the edge.

Karan stood tall beside Suchitra, his eyes darting sideways to her face. He watched the faint blush already coloring her cheeks from the atmosphere around them. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped forward, positioning himself in front of her. His movements carried the charm of confidence and the warmth of affection.

Then, extending his hand toward her, he bent slightly as though bowing. His voice was rich with teasing sweetness, his eyes locked with hers.

Karan (charming, with a playful smirk): Mrs. Karanvir Singh Dhillon… would you like to have a dance with me tonight?

His smile curved like a dare, as if the unspoken words said: I dare you to deny me now.

Suchitra couldn’t help but laugh softly at his dramatic tone, her heart racing from the way his eyes refused to leave hers. Shyly, she placed her delicate hand in his.

Suchitra (smiling, soft): How could I ever refuse?

As their fingers intertwined, Karan didn’t let the moment slip away. Instead of pulling her instantly toward the stage, he lifted her hand slowly, his gaze never breaking. Then, he pressed a tender kiss onto her knuckles—an action both protective and romantic.

Suchitra’s cheeks flamed instantly, the blush spreading deep, and she lowered her gaze shyly. Around them, a few friends whistled and cheered, but all she could hear was her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

Hand in hand, he prepared to lead her to the stage, his lips still carrying that knowing smile.

The first chords of “Naino Ne Baandhi” floated through the speakers, instantly casting a hush over the hall. The couples on stage swayed to the melody, but all eyes soon drifted toward the main pair—Karan and Suchitra—standing in the center, lost in their own world.

(Dil se sun piya ye dil ki daastaan

Jo lafzon mein nahi ho bayaan…)

Karan placed his hands gently on Suchitra’s waist, his touch protective yet tender. She rested her palms softly on his chest, her eyes rising to meet his. They stood still for a moment, simply gazing into each other’s souls. Then, slowly, their bodies began to sway in perfect rhythm with the music, every step flowing as naturally as their breath.

The world faded, the crowd dissolved; it was just the two of them, telling their story without words.

(Ab jaisa bhi raasta

Tootega naa vaasta

Na rahega faasla darmiyaan…)

Karan took one of her hands, his fingers threading through hers, and gently spun her away from him. For a heartbeat, there was a distance between them, but then he tugged her back with effortless grace. She stumbled softly into him, her back pressing against his chest. His arm wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her close as they swayed together, their breaths in sync.

(Naino ne baandhi kaisi dor re…)

He turned her again, this time in a playful twirl. Her lehenga spun gracefully, shimmering under the stage lights. She twirled around him, her laughter mingling with the music. He caught her hand mid-spin, pulling her back into his arms, his smile betraying both pride and love.

(Dil pe chale na koi zor re

O… khincha chala jaye teri ore re…)

He lowered her into a graceful dip, one hand steady on her back, the other holding her hand high. She leaned into the move with trust, her hair cascading like a veil, her eyes locked on his. The audience gasped in delight, but Karan only saw her—his wife, his everything.

As the music rose again, Suchitra slipped behind him, sliding her arms around his torso in a back hug. Together they swayed gently, her cheek almost brushing his back. Karan turned his head just enough to catch her smile over his shoulder, and his lips curved into a tender grin. Through due to their height difference he can only see her smiley eyes.

(O aaja tera darsh dikha de maahi

Mujhe mera aks dikha de maahi…)

They moved in unison—side steps, gentle turns—every motion echoing the lyrics of love and destiny. His hand guided her like she was a part of him, and she followed effortlessly, trusting his lead.

(Humsafar humraaz tu

Jism main aur saans tu

Rehna mere paas tu yun sadaa…)

He brought her close again, their foreheads nearly touching. His eyes softened, and for a moment, they simply stood, swaying side to side. The emotions in the song seemed to come alive between them, their silent vow to be each other’s forever shining through their movements.

(Naino ne baandhi kaisi dor re…)

For the finale, Karan lifted her hand high, twirling her one last time before pulling her tightly into his embrace. The two swayed together as the last notes lingered in the air, their hearts writing a promise only they could understand.

The music softened in the background, a romantic instrumental playing. Gurleen stood watching with misty eyes, her smile tender. Beside her, Ramanathan folded his hands behind his back, his expression proud yet emotional. Anyone who saw him could read the silent satisfaction on his face—he had made the right decision, entrusting his daughter to this man. Raghav, too, smiled quietly, happy to see his sister cherished the way she deserved.

On the stage, Karan and Suchitra were still lost in each other, swaying gently, their eyes locked like the world belonged only to them. They didn’t notice Tanya pushing her way through the crowd until her voice cut through the music.

Tanya (sweetly, but with hidden sharpness): Suchitra..!

The spell broke. Karan cursed softly under his breath, his jaw tightening. Both he and Suchitra turned toward Tanya, who was standing with a sugary smile plastered across her face.

Tanya (smiling too brightly): Can I have Karan for a dance?

Suchitra’s eyes immediately darted to Karan, searching his face for an answer. She wondered if she should step aside, let him go—after all, saying “no” might make it awkward. Her hand twitched slightly in his, as if she were about to release him.

But before she could, Karan’s grip tightened. He stepped forward, still holding her hand firmly, and looked Tanya straight in the eyes.

Karan (calm, but firm, his voice carrying weight): Tanya… I’m sorry, but I can’t. Tonight isn’t about anyone else. It’s my reception. Our reception. And I don’t want my wife to feel even the slightest bit sad on this special day.

Tanya blinked, taken aback. The crowd nearby shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension, but Karan didn’t stop.

Karan (softening, but still firm, glancing at Suchitra): I waited my whole life for this moment. For her. And now that she’s mine, I want every second of tonight to be with her. So no… you can’t have me for a dance. Because I already belong to my wife.

He lifted Suchitra’s hand slightly and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, sealing his words with action. Suchitra’s cheeks flushed, her heart flipping at his declaration.

Tanya’s smile faltered. She let out a nervous laugh, though her eyes betrayed her embarrassment and fury. Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and walked away, her pride wounded in front of everyone.

The moment she disappeared, the music switched. A Punjabi beat thumped through the speakers, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

Samksh (grabbing the mic, grinning): Alright! Enough of the mushy stuff—time to turn this reception into a proper Punjabi party!

The opening beats of “Kala Chashma” filled the air. Samksh and Karan immediately jumped into the center, setting the floor on fire with their moves. Laughter and claps echoed as Karan spun Suchitra playfully, pulling her into the dance. Samksh, being single, teased by grabbing Suchitra’s other hand dramatically.

Samksh (shouting over the music): Sorry Karan, tonight I’m stealing your bride!

Karan (snatching her back with a smirk): Not happening. She’s mine!

The crowd cheered. Soon, “Let’s Nacho” blared, pulling even the elders onto the floor. Gurleen laughed as she joined, clapping her hands to the beat. Ramanathan, usually so composed, But forced to do few steps. Raghav, Priyalaxmi and Saundarya laughed watching their family blend into pure joy.

Song after song filled the night until finally, the unmistakable beat of “Naagin” hit the speakers. A roar of laughter followed as Samksh dramatically bent forward, swaying like a snake, while Parth pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to play the flute.

Anvi (laughing, holding her stomach): Oh my God, look at them!

Samksh exaggerated every movement, sliding and flicking his arms like a full-on Naagin, while Parth followed, shaking the handkerchief as though summoning him. The dance floor turned into chaos—friends, cousins, and even some elders copying the iconic Naagin dance. Karan pulled Suchitra close for a laugh, then broke into energetic bhangra steps, lifting his shoulders and clapping to the beat.

But amidst the laughter, Suchitra suddenly winced. A sharp sting crawled across her back. She tried to ignore it, shrugging it off, but the pain deepened. Sweat pricked at her temples—not from the dance, but from the discomfort. She reached out and gently tugged Saundarya’s hand.

Suchitra (softly, trying to mask the pain): Come with me to the washroom, please.

Saundarya (concerned): Okay, let’s go.

They began to slip away, but before Suchitra could leave, Karan caught her wrist and pulled her closer.

Karan (worried, his voice low): Where are you going?

Suchitra (trying to reassure him with a small smile): Just to the washroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

He searched her face for a moment, then reluctantly nodded, releasing her hand with visible hesitation.

Inside the washroom, Suchitra exhaled shakily, grateful for the break. She turned her back slightly to Saundarya, her voice trembling.

Suchitra (anxious): Check my blouse, Saundarya… the back side. It hurts when I move.

Saundarya stepped behind her and carefully examined the blouse. She gently unhooked the back and gasped.

Saundarya (alarmed): Oh no, Suchii! You’ve got rashes here. Look—red marks all across your back.

The glittering embroidery of the blouse had rubbed harshly against her skin, leaving angry streaks.

Suchitra (panicking, her voice cracking): What do I do now?

Saundarya (thinking fast): Don’t panic. I’ve got some cream in my bag. It’ll help for now. But once you’re home, you need proper treatment.

She dabbed the cool cream onto Suchitra’s back gently, careful not to press too hard.

Saundarya (serious): And listen—when we go home, wear something loose. No tight tshirts, no bra, nothing that rubs against the skin. Got it?

Suchitra (hesitant, cheeks warm): O-okay.

Saundarya tightened the blouse hooks back lightly and turned her to face her.

Saundarya (soft but stern): Do you want me to call Machhan and tell him you need to go home? You don’t have to stay here if it hurts.

Suchitra (shaking her head quickly): No, no! Please don’t. If I leave my own reception early, what will people think? They’ll gossip endlessly.

Saundaya (rolling her eyes, exasperated): You silly girl… even in pain, you care more about the world than yourself.

Suchitra gave her a small, sheepish smile, her eyes reflecting both gratitude and stubbornness.

....