Sarthak’s POV

People often assume that I’m quiet because I don’t have much to say.

Truth is - I just like to listen first.

In business meetings, at home with my brothers, even in moments that should’ve demanded a reaction - I’ve learned that silence shows you more than words ever can.

But when my father mentioned Simran’s name for the first time, that silence broke a little.

---

I remember that day clearly.

He had come back from the office, eyes bright, saying, “Mahesh ji ke partner ki beti hai - Simran. Karnal se hi hai. Bahut acchi ladki hai.”

{“Mahesh's partner's daughter is Simran. She's from Karnal only. She's a very nice girl.”}

I wasn’t excited, but papa never introduced the proposal with this much excitement and glint in his eyes, so I became curious. I’d met a few girls before - polite, educated, but the conversations always felt rehearsed.

He also said, “They’re from our community, Dhimaan Vishwakarma,” I only nodded.

It wasn’t the background that mattered to me - it was the connection.

And connections, I’ve learned, can’t be forced.

Still, when Papa asked if he could move ahead, I said, “Aap mil lo. Main mil lunga agar dono sides comfortable hain.”

{“You can meet them and see. I'll meet if both families are comfortable.”}

That was all. Simple, straightforward.

---

The day we went to meet Simran’s family, I wasn’t nervous until I saw her.

She walked into the room wearing a light peach suit - simple, elegant - and something about the way she held herself caught my attention immediately without me even trying.

And it was not some look-at-me kind of way, but it was the total opposite.

There was calmness in her eyes, the kind that came from being sure of who she was.

She didn’t talk much at first, but I noticed the small things - how she listened carefully when my mother spoke, how she smiled politely when my brothers cracked a lame joke, how her fingers lightly touched her cup before she answered her father’s question.

When our parents asked us to talk privately, I wasn’t sure how to start.

I’m not great with first conversations.

So I asked something simple: “You’re okay with this meeting?”

She looked at me a little with nervously.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” she said. “But my parents said you’re also not in a hurry. That made it easier.”

That line… that one sentence told me more about her than any biodata could.

She valued time, space and understanding.

The things I value too.

We spoke about random things after that - work, family, how she liked monsoons more than summers.

She wasn’t trying to impress, and I wasn’t trying to read too much.

But by the time we left her house, I knew one thing for sure - she was being honest.

When my mother said on the way home, “Simran toh bilkul ghar jaisi lagti hai,” I smiled quietly.

Because that’s exactly what I’d felt too.

{“Simran feels just like home,”}

---

I didn’t expect her to say yes immediately, so when my father told me two days later, “They just want some time,” I said, “That’s good. Let her take it.”

---

When I got her number from uncle, I read it twice before messaging her.

I remember typing “Hi, this is Sarthak. Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

It took her three minutes to reply and I counted.

When her message popped up “No, not at all.” I could feel myself smiling like an idiot.

And that's how it started.

It was not something grand but simply simple.

Our chats, Sometimes it would be small talk - work, weather, tea vs coffee - but every reply of hers made me know more about her.

What I liked about her was she didn’t overthink what to say. She says what she feels.

Once she asked, “Why did you agree to meet me?”

I told her the truth - because I wanted a partner who could be my friend.

Someone who’d understand that marriage isn’t a performance; it’s a partnership.

Her reply - “And what if she’s quiet?” unknowingly it made me smile a little.

Because she thought being quiet was a flaw.

It wasn’t. I too understand that kind of quietness.

So I’d said, “Quiet people speak more, just not with their voice. With their eyes.”

And when she didn’t reply for a while

after that, I remember thinking, maybe I said too much.

But then she texted back “You notice a lot, don’t you?”

I had no idea how to explain that noticing was the only thing I knew.

---

When she came to Jodhpur with her family, I tried not to show how happy I was to see her.

She was wearing a light green suit that day, and I noticed how she tucked her hair behind her ear every few minutes.

She smiled more than she had the first day. She seems a little freer, a little more comfortable.

My brothers started teasing me the second they saw her.

“Bhaiya ka smile toh alag hi chamak rahi hai,” one of them whispered.

They weren’t wrong.

{"Brother's smile looks different,"}

My mother, meanwhile, was already behaving like she’d found her daughter.

She kept telling Simran, “Beta, ek aur roti le lo,” and Simran, in her polite voice, kept saying, “Nahi aunty, main aur nhi le sakti bss aur nahi.”

{“Take one more roti, no aunty, I can't take any more, please no more.”}

I watched that whole scene quietly, feeling something warm spreading inside me.

It was rare - to see your family and someone new blend so naturally.

Later, when I walked her to the gate, I could sense she was more relaxed.

Her eyes met mine for a second, and I asked, “You seemed comfortable today.”

She said, “Your family made it easy.”

That sentence.

It’s funny how one simple thing can make your heart feel full.

I remember saying, “If they like you, it’s a sign.”

When she asked, a little shyly, “A sign for what?”

I almost said for me to fall, but I stopped myself.

So instead, I said softly, “For me to hope a little more.”

And her smile in that moment - I still remember it.

Her smile, It was… peaceful. Like a quiet yes that hadn’t yet found its words.

---

After that day, our messages became longer.

Sometimes, she’d send photos of sunsets from her balcony. Sometimes, I’d share random pictures from construction sites - unfinished walls, piles of bricks, new beginnings in progress.

Once, I texted her:

Me: “It’s strange how incomplete things still have their own beauty.”

She replied:

“Maybe because they hold the promise of becoming something more.”

That line, that one line made me feel like she saw me even when she didn’t say it outright.

---

When her father called mine about engagement discussions, Papa asked me, “Tu ready hai?”

I said yes before he even finished the sentence.

{“So, are you ready?”}

Not because I was in a rush.

But because by then, I’d already made my choice.

Simran didn’t know it yet, but she makes the  silence feel like home.

She didn’t need to fill gaps with noise.

And I knew, deep down, that this was the kind of love I could trust.

---

The first time we met alone in that coffee shop in Karnal,  I remember reaching early. I kept looking at the door, pretending to scroll my phone, but honestly, I was nervous.

Then she walked in, sunlight catching her dupatta, her smile was slightly hesitant but warm  and I knew I’d remember that moment for a long time.

When she said, “You look tired,” I almost laughed. No one ever noticed things like that.

I told her, “It gets better when the day ends like this.”

She smiled a little tucking her hair behind her ear.

And I realised that with her, even simple words carried meaning.

We talked for hours.

At one point, she said, “I just want someone I can be myself with.”

And something in me whispered, I could be that person.

I told her, “Same. I want a partner who can see even through my silence.”

She laughed, saying, “You mean who can read minds?”

I’d smiled back, “Not minds. Just hearts.”

But the truth was her presence was already saying things my mind hadn’t yet admitted.

---

That night, when she texted about her father discussing engagement dates, I was at the site, standing near half-built walls, dust settling on my shirt.

Her message flashed on my screen:

“Papa is talking about engagement dates.”

I stared at it for a few seconds, then typed,

“And how do you feel about that?”

When she replied, “Not scared anymore,” I felt a strange kind of peace settle inside me.

I told her, “I’d never want this to feel like pressure.”

And when she said, “It doesn’t. Not with you,”

I couldn’t stop the small smile that found its way to my face.

I remember typing slowly:

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

And I meant every word.

Because by then, my choice was already made.

---

It’s strange, isn’t it how you can start knowing someone through words on a screen, and yet feel like you’ve known them for years.

Simran made me feel that.

When I think of her now, I don’t think of the first meeting or the coffee shop.

I think of her silence between sentences, her laughter that comes softly but stays longer, the way her words feel like comfort after a long day.

Maybe this is what it means -

When hearts don’t fall fast, they learn to stay.

Hi love 💖

Kese ho aap sab?

As promised here is the Sarthak POV is here.. were you exited?

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