The soft hum of the aircraft filled the space as the Airbus A350 soared steadily above the clouds. Paris was now behind them, its glittering lights and romantic boulevards left to memory. Their honeymoon had been nothing short of magical-romantic dinners, scenic walks, a visit to Disneyland, late-night kisses under the Eiffel Tower. Aryan had even found himself humming love songs when no one was watching. But now, as the aircraft settled into cruise mode, Aryan believed things might calm down. Maybe they'd finally rest.

He should have known better.

The business class cabin was dim, the overhead lights turned off for the night flight. Most passengers were asleep. Diana, however, was very much awake.

Aryan, reclining in the plush leather seat beside her, was trying to read a report on his tablet. His brow furrowed in concentration. Diana, wrapped in a cashmere shawl and wearing a sleek travel co-ord set, had her head on his shoulder. She had kicked off her heels long ago and tucked her feet beneath her

"Hey," Diana said, gently nudging his side.

He turned his head slightly. She was cuddled into his chest, her head resting just under his chin, one leg draped over his.

"Hmm?"

"What's your size?"

He blinked. His stylus paused mid-sentence"What?"

"Your size," she repeated casually.

Aryan's brain, exhausted from travel and half-lulled by the cabin hum, struggled to compute. He turned to her. Her face was serene, blinking at him with those big brown eyes. He glanced at her, confused
"Shoe size?"

Diana giggled. "No, darling. Not your shoes."

There was a beat of silence. Then his eyes widened.
He blinked again, slowly, catching on. "Diana."

"Yes?"

He put the stylus down, exhaled dramatically. "Are you seriously asking me this mid-air?"

She nodded with complete seriousness. "It's a fair question."

"No, it's not."

She tilted her head coyly. "I mean, we've kissed, cuddled, and you've heard me say I love you. I think I've earned the right to know."

Aryan looked absolutely scandalized. His ears turned a bright shade of red. "Why would you even want to know that?"

She shrugged like it was the most natural question in the world. "Because biology, darling. If it's longer than 5.5 inches, it won't fit properly. Anything more than that is wasted real estate."

Aryan coughed and sat up slightly, flustered beyond comprehension. "D-Diana!"

"What? I'm your wife. I'm allowed to ask." She smirked, clearly enjoying herself far too much.

He almost choked on his own spit. "Di-Diana!"

"What?" she asked with faux innocence. "I'm just trying to plan ahead."

"We're on a plane!"

"No one's listening," she said nonchalantly, gesturing to the sleeping passengers. "And besides, this is first class. They probably expect naughty conversations."

Aryan buried his face in his hands. "You're insane."

"You married me," she pointed out, not without a hint of pride.

He groaned. "I should've read the fine print."

"You love me."

"That's...debatable at this exact moment," he muttered, trying to return to his tablet.

She leaned into him, curling up on her seat like a cat. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. I'll find out eventually."

"Diana!"

"What? I'm just saying, I'm going to find out. Eventually. Like... when we're married married."

Aryan gave her a sideways look. "We're already married."

"I mean that married."

He turned red all over again. "You're unbelievable."

"You love that about me."

Unfortunately, he did.

He groaned and covered his face with one hand. "Can we not do this on a plane?"

She snuggled closer. "No one can hear us. Besides, it's not like I'm asking you to drop your pants. Just your stats."

"Stats?" he muttered, mortified.

"Yeah. You know. Like baseball. Except instead of RBI, I need to know your... reach."

"Diana!"

She giggled. "Okay, okay. But seriously, if it's anything more than five and a half inches, you're going to have to adjust expectations. Maximum a woman can comfortably take is like four and a half. At a stretch, five. The rest? Decorative."

Aryan turned a shade of red he didn't know was biologically possible.

She placed a hand on his chest and laughed softly. "God, you're so cute when you blush. Honestly, how do you still get flustered around me?"

"Because you're you," he groaned, burying his face in the pillow. "Unfiltered. Unhinged."

"You knew what you were getting into when you married me."

"Did I?"

"Yes. And you love it." She grinned, poking his side. "You do. Admit it."

He looked at her-this chaotic, beautiful woman who'd stormed into his perfectly organized life with the force of a cyclone-and sighed.

"God help me. I do."

She beamed like she'd won a trophy.

Moments passed. The hum of the plane, the faint clatter of the air hostess's cart, and the dim lighting gave the cabin an oddly serene atmosphere-except Aryan couldn't relax. Not when she was still grinning at him like she had more wild thoughts brewing.

Diana placed a hand over his and said more quietly, "You know I tease you because I like making you uncomfortable."

"Clearly," he said, voice muffled in the pillow.

"But only in the way that's fun. Not in the way that makes you actually upset." She turned serious for a second. "I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable in a bad way."

Aryan peeked at her, her eyes softer now.

"You don't," he said sincerely. "It's just... new for me. I've never been with someone like you."

"Bold, blunt, brilliant, and slightly inappropriate?"

"All of the above."

She grinned again. "Well, get used to it. You married me."

He kissed the top of her head, voice low. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Diana's heart did a small flutter. She may act like she was always in control, but when Aryan said things like that with that calm certainty, it made her weak.

They lay like that for a while. Her fingers traced lazy shapes over his arm while he absentmindedly played with the end of her braid.

Then she whispered, "You never answered my question, though."

"Diana!"

Her laughter echoed through the first-class cabin, loud enough to earn a glance from the stewardess. Aryan just shook his head, grumbling about privacy and sanity while she giggled into his chest.

As the flight continued, Diana eventually fell asleep, her hand curled over his. Aryan stared at the ceiling for a while longer, wondering how he'd gotten so lucky - and how on earth he was ever going to keep up with her.

But in the end, he didn't need to. He didn't need to match her chaos or her boldness. All he had to do was love her exactly the way she was.

Even when she asked the most unfiltered questions at 35,000 feet.

Especially then.

***
Diana fell asleep some thirty minutes later, head against Aryan's chest, one hand resting gently over his stomach. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe deeply. He was worried any sudden motion would wake her up-and start a new interrogation.

His mind drifted to everything they'd experienced in Paris. He had learned so much about her-how she'd grown up there, her favorite color, the way her eyes sparkled when she spotted lavender macarons, how she hummed to herself when she was nervous.

And somehow, between the ridiculous flirtations, there had been moments of vulnerability. Like when she confessed she used to be a quiet, studious girl who turned loud to be seen. Or when she burned her hand trying to make laddoos for his family. Or when she sang along-terribly-to 90s Bollywood songs on the hotel balcony.

She was chaotic, but she was real.

He glanced down at her sleeping form, her long lashes brushing against her cheek, and his heart gave a little squeeze.

She was his now.

And he was definitely hers.

Even if she embarrassed him on airplanes

Hours passed, and eventually the captain announced they were descending into Delhi. The early morning light spilled in through the window as Diana stirred.

She stretched dramatically, yawning like a cat. "Ugh, I hate flights longer than five hours."

Aryan chuckled. "Says the woman who slept through eight of them."

"Well, I was exhausted from all the sightseeing. And...you know..." she wiggled her brows.

"Don't start."

She giggled. "Relax. I'm done teasing. For now."

He gave her a suspicious side glance. "I'll believe it when I see it."

They landed smoothly, and as they waited for their luggage, Diana wrapped her arms around Aryan from behind.

"I had fun," she whispered.

He nodded, smiling. "Me too."

"Thanks for Paris. It felt like a dream."

He turned to face her and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You're welcome. You deserved it."

She kissed his cheek. "And for the record, I don't care what your size is."

He groaned. "Diana-"

"Okay fine," she whispered conspiratorially, "I care a little. But only because I love accuracy."

He covered her mouth with his hand. "Stop talking."

She laughed against his palm.

The car ride home was quieter, both of them tired but content. Diana rested her head on Aryan's shoulder again, scrolling through their photos from the trip.

"Do you think your mom will be okay if I wear jeans today?" she asked suddenly.

Aryan smiled. "You fed her homemade parathas before we left. I think you've earned a jeans pass."

"Yay."

He paused, then softly added, "And hey..."

She looked up at him.

"You're more than enough. As a wife. Just the way you are."

She blinked. "Where did that come from?"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to say it."

She smiled, leaned up, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I know I am. But thank you, Mr. Husband."

***

When they finally reached their flat, Aryan's mother was waiting at the door, a warm smile on her face and a traditional thali in her hands.

"Welcome home," she said.

Diana touched her feet, surprising the older woman, who patted her head affectionately.

Aryan helped bring in the luggage, and as they walked in, Diana looked around and whispered, "You know, I missed this place."

Aryan arched a brow. "You missed Gurgaon?"

"I missed our bed," she clarified, wagging her eyebrows.

He groaned. "You're incorrigible."

"And yet, you love me."

Aryan rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips.

Yes, he did.