The grand Singhania wedding had barely settled into memories when Sanjana's new life as a model took full flight. Just three days into marriage, she was already walking down the ramp, posing for high-end shoots, and gracing magazine covers. Fame, camera flashes, and luxury followed her like shadows.
Jai, on the other hand, had returned to his steel-and-glass corporate world—boardrooms, video calls, mergers, and late-night strategy meetings. The mansion they lived in remained vast and empty, echoing only the ticking of antique clocks and the occasional footsteps of housemaids.
Days turned into nights, and nights blurred into weeks. Their worlds, though legally joined, lived parallel lives. When Sanjana was home, Jai was away—when Jai returned exhausted, Sanjana was off to an event. The shared space of marriage slowly grew into a polite companionship, lacking in intimacy, weighted by unspoken silence.
Three years passed this way—like dry pages flipping in a forgotten diary.
In those years, life didn't slow down. Hansika, Jai's charming cousin, found love and companionship in Yug Sehgal—the only son of the London-based tycoon, Sudhir Sehgal. Their wedding had been lavish and full of joy, a contrast to Jai and Sanjana's increasingly mechanical routine.
By the fourth year, trouble knocked on Jai's door in the form of a financial blow to his most ambitious American project. It was a crisis that demanded his presence overseas. The decision wasn't easy—but necessary. The only option was to leave India for a full year.
As he packed his leather briefcases with documents, gadgets, and winter suits, Sanjana entered the room quietly. She walked up behind him and slid her arms around his waist, resting her face on his back. Her voice was soft, but laced with worry.
"Jai… are you really going? Is there no other way?"
"Can't you handle it from here?"
Jai gently turned, wrapping his arms around her slender frame. For a moment, the world stood still.
"I don't want to go either," he said, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. "But this is the only way. I promise—it'll be over before you know it."
Sanjana hesitated, as if something weighed on her mind. Then, she stepped away, opened the cupboard, and took out a small velvet box.
"Before you go…" she said, handing it to him. "This is for you."
Inside the box was a glass jar filled with fine, white powder.
"What's this?" Jai asked, puzzled.
"A special kind of sugar," she said with a smile. "Only found in Shimla. My mother sent it. It's meant to be added to tea or milk—keeps your body warm and helps reduce fatigue. Promise me you'll use it every day in the U.S. Promise me."
Jai laughed, amused by the gift, and placed it in his bag.
"Okay, wifey! I promise."
"No, properly." Sanjana extended her palm with mock seriousness.
He placed his hand over hers, looked into her eyes, and said softly:
"I promise."
He kissed her cheek before turning to leave with his staff and boarded his private jet to America.
---
While Jai worked overseas, Sanjana's modeling career skyrocketed. Her face became a national brand, seen on billboards, luxury products, and fashion runways. Fame loved her—and she seemed to love it back.
Months passed. Then one evening, unexpectedly ahead of schedule, Jai returned home to the Singhania Villa. The sun had just set, casting a warm gold glow over the mansion's marble floors.
In the dining room, his father, Digvijay ji, and younger brother Aman were enjoying a traditional Gujarati dinner. The fragrance of ghee and spice filled the air. An elderly woman in a simple Gujarati sari was quietly serving them with delicate care.
"Dad, who is she?" Jai asked, eyebrows raised.
Digvijay ji smiled warmly.
"That's Arushi Bhatt. A healer, perhaps even a miracle-worker."
He explained how Sanjana had met her at a temple after spraining her ankle. Arushi had helped her, and Sanjana, noticing the woman had nowhere to go, brought her home. Over time, Arushi had begun treating Mitali ji, Jai's long-unresponsive mother.
"She's brought life back into your mother," Digvijay added, emotion thick in his voice.
"And your wife… she's been such a blessing. Within just four years, she's given me hope I never dreamed of again."
Jai felt a warmth rise in his chest, pride mixing with something deeper—perhaps guilt, perhaps longing.
After a warm welcome, everyone retired to their rooms.
---
It was nearly 10 PM when Sanjana returned home from a late-night shoot. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she entered her room. She flicked on the lights—and froze.
"Jai?" she gasped.
There he stood, leaning against the wardrobe, grinning.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"Because then, how would I have surprised you?" he replied with a wink.
"Now go freshen up. I'll ask for dinner."
By 11 PM, they sat in the room—Sanjana eating quietly, Jai watching her with a smile that hadn't touched his lips in years. His eyes followed the curve of her jaw, then drifted to her lips. There was a longing in his gaze—not just physical, but emotional. He had missed this. Missed her.
When she lay down, Jai joined her, pulling her close. His lips brushed her forehead, her cheek, then her lips.
"Sanjana…" he whispered. "It's been nearly four years. And yet… we've never had a wedding night. May I come closer… tonight?"
She hesitated, then nodded shyly.
But just as their passion was rising, Sanjana placed a hand on his chest, gently stopping him.
"First… drink this," she said, getting up and returning moments later with a warm glass of milk.
"Milk? Really?" Jai teased.
"It's full of protein. You'll need energy tonight." She winked.
He chuckled, reaching for it.
"You drink too."
Sanjana shook her head quickly.
"I… can't. I'm allergic to milk, remember?"
Jai raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He downed the milk in one go.
Moments later, the heat between them returned. He kissed her again—this time slower, more passionately. Their breaths grew heavier, their hearts beat faster.
"Turn off the lights," she whispered. "I feel shy…"
The lights dimmed. Darkness wrapped around them like a blanket.
In the silence, the rustle of silk, the sound of clothing slipping to the floor, and soft gasps filled the room. The night that had once been delayed now burned brightly—with intimacy, with mystery, and perhaps... with a secret.
---
To be continued…