Aryan hadn't slept all night.

The soft sound of Diana's breathing filled the quiet of their bedroom as she lay curled under the comforter, her long lashes brushing her cheeks and a tiny frown on her forehead — like she always got when she was dreaming. He couldn't help but smile as he looked at her, then turned back to the balloon in his hand and gave it one last puff of air.

His cheeks hurt, but he was determined to blow up every single heart-shaped balloon himself.

It was their first wedding anniversary.

One year ago, they had stood awkwardly beside each other, tied by fate, duty, and the awkwardness of an arranged marriage. Now... he looked at her like she held his whole universe in her eyes. And tonight, he wanted her to feel it.

The room had transformed.

Heart-shaped balloons floated in clusters above the bed and around the windows, tied with silky ribbons. A trail of rose petals weaved from the door to the bed — where a tray sat carefully arranged with her favorite breakfast: crispy aloo parathas with a bowl of homemade dahi, a small glass of orange juice, and freshly cut strawberries.

Candles flickered softly on every surface, casting warm golden light across the room, making everything feel like a dreamy blend of warmth and love. Aryan stood back, inspecting the scene, checking the alignment of the breakfast tray one last time. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were tired, but his heart was racing with excitement.

And the gift... oh, the gift.

He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled it out — a slender velvet box. Inside was a delicate, gleaming gold thigh chain with tiny, intricate links. Dangling from the center was a charm: his initials, A.M., engraved in stylish lettering.

It was bold. Bolder than any gift he'd given her before. But she was bold. She wore high-slit dresses like armor and stilettos like they were sneakers. This was something that would suit her — something that said mine, but whispered it in gold instead of shouting.

He placed it beside the breakfast tray and took a deep breath.

Now he just had to wake her up.

He tiptoed to the bed and leaned over, gently brushing her hair back from her face and pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead.

"Diana," he whispered. "Good morning, jaan."

She stirred, her brow furrowing more before she slowly opened her eyes. For a second, she looked confused, then blinked — and saw the room.

Her mouth dropped open. "What... Aryan?!"

He grinned, cheeks already turning red. "Happy anniversary, Mrs. Mahlotra."

She sat up slowly, her eyes scanning the room — the balloons, the candles, the flowers. "You did all this?"

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck shyly. "Tried to, yeah. The balloons almost killed me."

Diana laughed, flinging the blanket off as she crawled into his arms and hugged him tightly. "You romantic idiot," she whispered into his neck. "You didn't have to do all this!"

"I wanted to," he said softly, cupping her face as she pulled back. "Because you make every single day feel like a celebration. This is the least I could do."

She looked at him, eyes suddenly glassy. "I don't even know how to top this."

"You don't have to," he murmured. "Just... be here. With me. Always."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then noticed the tray.

"You made breakfast?" she gasped. "You?!"

"Hey, I can cook!" he said, pretending to be offended. "At least for today."

She took a bite of the paratha and let out a little moan of satisfaction. "Okay... wow. I officially love you."

"You officially married me last year," he teased. "The love came later."

Her hand slid into his. "And it came hard and fast."

They shared the breakfast, sitting cross-legged on the bed like two teens in love. He fed her a strawberry. She smudged yogurt on his nose. He tickled her waist. She flicked juice on his shirt.

It was chaotic. It was them.

As they leaned back, content and full, Aryan reached for the box. Diana raised an eyebrow when he placed it in her hands.

"What's this?"

"Your gift."

She carefully opened the box and gasped.

"Oh my God..." she breathed, lifting the golden thigh chain, letting the tiny 'A.M.' charm dangle between her fingers. "This is..."

"I know you love slit dresses," he said nervously, "and I thought, maybe, something bold? Something to style it with... and it's not just jewelry — it's from me. For you. A little reminder that you're mine."

Diana was speechless. For the first time, truly speechless.

She blinked fast, looked at the chain again, then at Aryan, and then launched herself into his arms, kissing him so hard he nearly fell back onto the bed.

"I love it. I love you. I love everything," she whispered into his lips.

He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm glad."

"You know," she said playfully, brushing her fingers along his jaw, "you've gotten dangerously good at this romance thing."

He shrugged, smug. "I've had a great teacher."

She sat back and lifted her nightgown slightly, just enough to fasten the chain around her thigh. Aryan tried not to stare, but she noticed anyway.

Her voice dropped. "Does it look good?"

"You look..." He gulped. "You look stunning. That chain... it was made for you."

She smiled, then crawled back to him and straddled his lap.

"You've officially made this the best anniversary ever, Aryan Mahlotra"

He wrapped his arms around her, his voice low. "Then let me keep making it better."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of kisses, whispers, and soft laughter.

Later, Diana wore a high-slit red dress — the thigh chain glinting boldly against her skin — as they headed out for a private lunch Aryan had booked in the city.

Every step she took, she knew he was looking at that chain. Every brush of her leg against his reminded him she was his.

And all through the day — and into the candlelit evening — they celebrated what they had built.

From strangers in an arranged marriage... to lovers who truly belonged.