Valentine's Day.

It had never meant much to Aryan before. Just another day in February, marked by red hearts in shopping malls and ads with couples holding hands. He had always thought it was cheesy—commercial nonsense. But this year? This year it was different.

He was in Paris. With his wife.

He stared at her as she slept beside him, curled on her side with her hand tucked under her cheek. Her long lashes rested against her skin, lips slightly parted, and the soft rise and fall of her chest was rhythmic. She looked peaceful, innocent, nothing like the hurricane he had married.

Aryan smiled to himself. He had planned the perfect day for her.

He slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to wake her. She stirred, mumbling something incoherent, but didn't wake. Good. He needed time to get ready.

He showered, got dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, and checked his list again. Disneyland tickets? Check. Front-row access to the Paris Fashion Week show at 4 PM? Check. Dinner cruise on the Seine at 8 PM? Check. And roses. He had arranged for fifty red roses to be delivered to their hotel room while they were out.

This wasn't just Valentine's Day.

This was the first one he was celebrating—really celebrating—with someone who mattered. Someone who had barged into his life, messed up his routine, turned his flat into chaos, filled his fridge with chocolate and spicy chutneys, and somehow made him happier than he'd ever been.

At 8:00 AM, Diana stirred. He was already sitting beside her, playing with a strand of her hair.

"Morning, Mrs. Mehlotra," he said softly.

She opened one eye. "If you don't have coffee in your hand, then go away."

He chuckled. "I have something better. Pancakes and coffee. Room service."

She sat up immediately, hair messy and her eyes still sleepy. "You're forgiven."

He passed her the tray, smiling as she took a bite of the pancakes. She chewed thoughtfully, then narrowed her eyes.

"You're up early. Looking nice. Smiling too much. What are you hiding?"

He tried to play innocent. "Nothing. Just enjoying the view."

"Try again," she said, folding her arms.

He grinned. "We're going out today. It's Valentine's Day. And I have plans."

Her eyes widened. "You... you remembered?"

"Of course I did," he said. "I even planned a whole itinerary."

Diana put the tray aside and threw her arms around him. "I knew you had it in you, Mr. Husband."

"Careful, I might cancel it if you crush me."

She pulled back laughing, kissing his cheek before jumping off the bed. "Give me twenty minutes. Actually—thirty. I need to look iconic."

"You always do," he muttered under his breath as she rushed into the bathroom.

By 9:30 AM, they were in a cab heading to Disneyland Paris.

Diana had worn a soft pink skater dress with a white trench coat and sneakers. She had braided part of her hair and let the rest fall in soft curls. She looked youthful, excited—like a teenager going on her dream date.

"You're glowing," Aryan said.

"It's the Disney magic," she replied, grinning. "Also the fact that you're being so romantic. It's unnerving. Who are you, and what have you done with Aryan Mehlotra?"

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

The gates of Disneyland were buzzing with couples and families. Diana squealed as they entered, pulling Aryan's hand like a child toward every ride she spotted. Aryan had never been a fan of theme parks, but seeing her so excited was worth every second of standing in line, getting dizzy on rides, and posing with a Mickey Mouse mascot.

By noon, she had Minnie Mouse ears on her head, a balloon in one hand, and her phone filled with photos.

"This is the best day ever," she said as they sat on a bench eating churros. "Thank you for this."

"You think it's over?" he asked.

She blinked. "There's more?"

Aryan smirked. "Come on. We have a fashion show to attend."

They arrived at the Grand Palais by 3:45 PM. The venue was already buzzing with models, designers, and elite fashionistas. Diana looked completely in place, with her designer outfit and sharp presence. Aryan had changed into a more formal blazer, looking dapper beside her.

"How did you get us in here?" she asked, impressed. "Front row? Are you bribing people now?"

He shrugged. "Let's say I pulled some strings. I wanted you to feel at home. This is your world."

Diana's expression softened. "It was. I hope it still is."

He took her hand. "You'll conquer it again. And I'll be in the front row, cheering you on."

The show began, and Diana's eyes lit up with every passing model, every dramatic outfit, every bold fabric choice. She whispered commentary in his ear, explaining trends and techniques. Aryan listened, fascinated—not just by the fashion, but by her passion.

He had never seen her this alive. This radiant.

After the show, she kissed his cheek. "That... meant everything to me."

"We're not done yet," he said.

At 8:00 PM sharp, they stepped onto the dinner cruise along the Seine. The boat was lit with warm lights, soft music played in the background, and their private table was decorated with candles and a bouquet of red roses.

She stared at the flowers. "Fifty?"

"One for every time you made me laugh in the last month."

She laughed. "That's cute. And cheesy. But mostly cute."

They sat, dined, and watched the Paris skyline pass by as the boat floated along. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, and Diana leaned into Aryan's side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For?"

"For not being afraid to show me love. For making this day special. For being mine."

Aryan turned to her. "You make it easy. Loving you, I mean. It's chaotic, noisy, full of surprises—but it's never boring."

She smiled. "I love you."

He held her hand, kissed her knuckles. "I love you too."

Back at the hotel, Diana kicked off her heels and fell onto the bed. "Best Valentine's Day ever. Seriously. You've ruined future ones with how good this one is."

Aryan smiled and took off his blazer. "Guess I set the bar high."

"Way too high," she said, then looked at him. "Hey Aryan?"

"Yeah?"

"I have something for you too."

She pulled out a small black box from her purse and handed it to him. Curious, Aryan opened it to find a silver bracelet engraved with coordinates.

He looked up. "What are these?"

"Coordinates to Paris. To this hotel. Where I fell in love with my awkward husband."

Aryan's heart swelled. He put it on immediately. "I love it."

"You better," she teased. "I had it custom-made."

They sat on the bed, shoulders touching, the city of love glowing outside their window.

Valentine's Day had always seemed silly to Aryan.

But this one? This one made him believe in all of it.

Love. Surprises. Forever.

And with Diana by his side, he knew it would only get better.