The tension Meera left behind didn't last long.
Ashaas refused to let it. By evening, she had changed into her oldest T-shirt, tied her hair into a messy bun, and declared, "Movie night."
Arjun looked up from his phone. "Serious movie or bad movie?"
"Bad," she said firmly. "The kind where logic doesn't exist."
He grinned. "I married you for moments like this."
They sprawled on the couch with snacks. Ten minutes into the movie, the hero jumped off a building and landed without a scratch.
Ashaas paused the screen. "Absolutely not."
Arjun nodded. "His knees should be gone."
They spent more time mocking the film than watching it. Arjun tried copying the hero's dramatic walk and nearly tripped over the rug.
She laughed so hard her stomach hurt.
"You're impossible," she said.
"And yet," he replied, bowing, "still your husband."
Halfway through, Ashaas's phone buzzed. A message from Meera.
Did I say something wrong earlier?
Ashaas stared at it for a moment, then put the phone face down.
Arjun noticed. "You don't have to answer."
"I know," she said. "And I won't. Not tonight."
He wrapped an arm around her. "Good choice."
She rested her head on his shoulder, the movie playing in the background, forgotten. Her laughter faded into something quieter, steadier.
"Do you ever get tired of people testing us?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No. Because every time, we pass without trying."
She smiled. "I like that."
Later, as they cleaned up, Arjun flicked popcorn at her.
She gasped. "War?"
"Always."
They chased each other around the living room, laughing, until she cornered him by the window. He caught her wrists gently, still smiling.
"Truce," he said softly.
She leaned closer. "Only if you admit I'm funnier."
He kissed her instead.
Outside, the world was messy—full of comparisons, jealousy, and noise. Inside, they chose laughter.
And laughter, Ashaas realized, was their quiet victory.