That only confused her more.
Moments later, Abhimanyu returned, this time with Maria. Maria held a rice kalash in her hands, while Abhimanyu carried a puja thali. Mishti froze in surprise. What was all this?
Her eyes, already glossy, lifted to Karan, who met her gaze.
“The first time you stepped into this mansion as my wife… I skipped these rituals,” he said as his fingers tightened aroundhers. “Not this time. I want to welcome my wife home with the love and respect she always deserved.”
Her throat choked instantly. He remembered what he skipped in the past? And more than that, he wanted to change that memory for her.
“But is this even the right time?” she argued. “You’re hurt. You need rest.”
Karan pressed their joined hands tighter, the movement drawing a faint tension across his jaw, but his eyes never left hers. “Treating my wife like a princess is more important,” he replied. “My pain can wait.”
She stood there, stunned. Somewhere deep inside, she knew now, expecting anything less from Karan was no longer possible. He was going all the way for her, for her happiness. The man had also started flirting openly with her, especially after Jaipur, after everything that had changed between them.
Mishti looked ahead as Maria gently placed the rice kalash near her feet, smiling through her own tears. Even Maria looked relieved and happy to have Mishti back.
“When bhai told me to arrange this while we were still at the hospital,” Abhimanyu said, shaking his head with a soft laugh, “I panicked. I called Komal immediately and asked her how to do all this. She explained everything on the call. This is what we managed.”
He circled the puja thali around them, a little awkwardly, like someone welcoming a bride home for the first time. He forgot half the steps, like when to apply the tilak, when to shower the rice, and this time, Mishti herself quietly guided him, telling him what came next. He followed her instructions, step by step.
Then, with Karan still holding her hand, she gently nudged the rice kalash forward with her foot.
It felt like a beginning, not just another return, but her first real beginning in this house.
Just as Mishti was about to step inside the house, Karan suddenly pulled her hand back. Before she could understand why, he bent slightly and lifted her into his arms.
She gasped in shock. Not because of the gesture, but because his arm was injured.
“Karan, what are you doing?” she asked, alarm flooding her voice.
“It’s our tradition,” he replied calmly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “The groom carries his bride into their home.”
She stared at him, stunned, as he carried her forward, walking into the mansion with her held close against his chest. Abhimanyu only shook his head, grinning openly, and followed them inside with Maria.
Karan did not put her down until they reached the living room. The moment her feet touched the floor, Mishti turned to him at once, her hands going straight to his bandaged arm.
“Did it hurt?” she asked urgently. “Are you okay? Your stitches… did it hurt?”
He looked at her, took in the panic in her eyes, and shook his head lightly. “No. I’m fine.”
That was when Abhimanyu spoke from the side. “Bhabhi, that’s called self-inflicted pain.”
Mishti turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”
Abhimanyu laughed. “There’s no such tradition in our family where the groom has to carry the bride in his arms. Looks like bhai has started one of his own now.”
Mishti froze. Then slowly, she turned back to Karan. He was standing there with that infuriating, unapologetic smirk on his face.
Without thinking twice, she lifted her hand and hit his arm. The same bandaged arm. Gently, but firmly. Then she turned away.
He immediately winced. “That hurt,” he complained.
She glanced back at him while walking toward Maria and said flatly, “You deserved it.”
Mishti stepped closer to Maria and wrapped her arms around her without saying a word.
Maria froze for a second.
