Simran’s POV

The funny thing about talking every day is that you don’t realise when “just checking in” turns into wanting to hear their voice.

After our visit to Jodhpur, everything between Sarthak and me became… softer.

There was just a quiet rhythm we both seemed to understand without naming it.

He’d text me in the mornings:

Sarthak: “Reached site early today. Workers already fighting over chai.”

And I’d reply something equally random:

Me: “Normal Monday then.”

Sometimes, our chats were only a few lines. Other days, we’d end up talking late at night about our childhood memories, family, random things that somehow felt deeply personal.

One night, when I asked him about his work, he said something that made me stop and think.

“You know, people think construction means just buildings. But for me, it’s more like… creating spaces where life happens.”

That was so him. Quiet, thoughtful, without trying to be.

I remember smiling at my phone, typing slowly:

Me: “That’s actually beautiful.”

Sarthak: “You think so?”

Me: “Yes. You don’t just build things, you feel them.”

Sarthak: “Maybe that’s why I notice more than I speak.”

That line stayed with me long after I put the phone down.

---

By now, both our families were more relaxed. My parents didn’t hover over the topic of “decision,” and his didn’t pressure him either.

Papa just said one evening, “Mahesh ji ne bola hai, Sarthak ke parents tujhe pasand karte hain. Unhone kaha, jab Simran ready ho, tab engagement kar lete hain.”

{“Mahesh ji said that Sarthak's parents like you. They said that when you are ready, we can do the engagement.”}

Maa added, “Aur Sarthak bhi interested lagta hai, par wo bhi wait kar raha hai tere yes ka.”

{“And Sarthak also seems interested, but he is also waiting for your yes.”}

Her tone was calm, kind, the way she spoke when she wanted me to listen with my heart.

I didn’t reply that night.

But something inside me was already shifting.

---

A week later, Sarthak called me instead of texting.

“Hey,” his voice came was calm and familiar now.

“Hey,” I replied, smiling unknowingly.

“I was thinking,” he said after a pause. “It’s been a while since we met in person. Would you… be okay meeting once? Just us. Somewhere casual.”

The hesitation in his tone made me smile a little. “You sound like you’re asking me for an interview,” I said.

He chuckled softly. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I won’t,” I said. “As long as the place has good coffee.”

He laughed again, quietly. “Noted.”

---

We met two days later in a small café near Sector 12 in Karnal.

It wasn’t fancy - just a cozy space, with soft music and the smell of fresh cappuccino.

When I walked in, I spotted him instantly sitting near the window, phone in hand, that same calm energy around him.

“Hey,” he said, standing up as soon as he saw me.

“Hey,” I smiled, sitting opposite. “You look tired and drove here all the way.”

He shrugged. “But it gets better when the day ends like this.”

His words were honest.

We talked for nearly two hours about movies, about our siblings (he spoke fondly of his brothers, how they fight and make up five times a day), and then about what we wanted in marriage.

“I don’t have a list,” I said, stirring my coffee. “Just… someone I can be myself with. Someone with whom I don't have to pretend.”

He nodded. “Same. I want a partner who can see even through my silence.”

I looked at him, amused. “You mean who can read minds?”

He smiled faintly. “Not minds. Just hearts.”

The way he said it so softly, made something flutter in me.

---

After that meeting, our families started bringing up the engagement more often.

Maa mentioned dates casually at breakfast. Papa even asked for my kundali again.

I wasn’t against it anymore in fact, a strange calm had replaced my earlier hesitation.

One evening, as I watched the sunset from my balcony, I found myself whispering, Maybe this is how it’s meant to be.

---

Later that night, I texted him:

Me: “Papa is talking about engagement dates.”

Sarthak: “And how do you feel about that?”

Me: “Not scared anymore.”

Sarthak: “Good. Because I’d never want this to feel like pressure.”

Me: “It doesn’t. Not with you.”

After a little pause. Then he replied:

Sarthak: “Simran… I’m not the kind of man who says much. But when I choose, I choose for life.”

My heart skipped a beat reading that

The words carried something heavier, something deep as in a quiet promise that sounded more permanent than love itself.

---

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I kept replaying our conversations, his tone, his patience, his eyes that seemed to see through noise straight into stillness.

And for the first time, I caught myself smiling at nothing.

Maybe… this was what Maa meant when she said, “Kabhi kabhi pyaar baad mein hota hai, aur tab wo aur gehra hota hai.”

{“Sometimes love happens slowly ,and then it's deeper.”}

Hi love 💖

Kese ho aap sab?

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Milte hai kal ek naye chapter ke sath, till then bye byee 😊