saturday. 8:42 am.
shubham stood in front of mirror. white shirt. pressed. black pants. hair actually combed. looked like wedding day version of himself.
except not traditional wedding. no baraat. no mandap. no hundreds of relatives.
just registry office. paperwork. and her.
still felt huge.
behind him priya adjusting his collar like helicopter mom. "bhai you look good. nervous."
"terrified."
"good sign. means you care." she grinned. "ready to become official jiju."
"you already call me that."
"yeah but today it's legal. government approved."
in bathroom reshma getting ready. priya had helped her. simple sky blue salwar kameez. ma had sent it. delicate embroidery. nothing heavy. nothing bridal. but beautiful.
she came out. saw him watching. stopped.
"what."
"you look." words stuck. brain malfunctioning.
"like dying cancer patient in borrowed clothes."
"beautiful," he finished. firm. true. "you look beautiful."
her eyes got wet. "liar."
"never."
priya threw flowers at them. "okay enough cute. we're late. metro awaits."
tis hazari registry office. 10:17 am.
building old. colonial. bureaucracy personified.
people everywhere. couples. families. lawyers. chaos.
they stood in queue. form 7. affidavit. witnessed. photographs. ID proofs. everything checked three times because government doesn't trust anyone.
clerk looked bored. "witness."
priya raised hand. "me."
"need two."
shit. in chaos forgot second witness.
"excuse me."
old aunty. standing nearby. alone. kind eyes. watching them.
"i can witness," she offered. smiled. warm. nostalgic. "young love. reminds me my wedding. fifty years ago. we also registry. family didn't approve. but we did anyway." she looked at reshma. something knowing in eyes. "sometimes love doesn't wait for perfect timing. sometimes you just have to jump."
reshma's throat tight. "thank you aunty ji."
"no thanks needed beta. love is rare. celebrate it."
they filled forms. signed papers. aunty and priya witnessed. official stamps. dates. time.
"both stand," clerk said. monotone. done this thousand times. bored. routine.
they stood. her hand found his. gripped tight. both terrified.
"raise right hands."
hands up. hers trembled. his steady only because he forced it.
"repeat after me." clerk didn't look up. just reading. "i take you as my lawfully wedded spouse."
silence. heavy. real.
then her voice. small. sure. "i take you as my lawfully wedded spouse."
his turn. throat closed. words stuck. this was IT. legal. permanent. six months or forever.
"i take you as my lawfully wedded spouse." barely audible. but meant. every syllable.
"witnesses confirm."
priya and aunty signed. priya's hand shaking too. not just witnesses. family.
clerk stamped. BANG. sound echoed against old colonial walls. final.
"congratulations. you're married. next."
next couple shuffled forward. them standing there. stunned. married. legally bound.
priya whispered. "bhabhi you're crying."
reshma wiped face. laughing. "happy tears. promise."
shubham couldn't speak. just stared at marriage certificate. their names. together. official stamp making it real. his name next to hers. permanent. even though she's temporary.
that thought hit hard.
permanent. even though she's temporary.
swallowed it. buried it. stored it for later breakdown.
"bhai?" priya's voice. worried.
"yeah. yeah. just. processing."
they walked out. married. officially.
priya whooping. taking photos. "bhai bhabhi content for ma. smile. come on. married couple energy."
they smiled. awkward. real. priya clicked hundred photos.
then video call. ma.
"show me show me beta," ma demanding.
priya flipped camera. "presenting. mr and mrs kumar. legally certified!"
ma's face. pure joy. tears. "beta. beta you did it. proper marriage. i'm so proud."
"ma," shubham said. throat tight.
"and reshma beta. you're officially my daughter now. legally. forever."
reshma crying. "yes ma."
"good. now go celebrate. eat something sweet. blessings from here. priya take photos proper. i want every detail."
"on it ma!"
call ended.
they stood on steps. married. couple. legal.
"so," reshma said. small smile. "husband."
"wife," he tested word. fit perfect. terrifying. right.
priya grabbed both hands. "okay enough standing. we're celebrating. proper delhi date. my treat. well. ma's gold chain money treat. same thing."
chandni chowk. 12:34 pm.
chaos. crowd. smell of food. history. life.
priya dragged them through lanes. "paranthe wali gali first. then jalebi. then kulfi. full feast."
they ate. sitting on old benches. sharing plates. feeding each other. sticky hands. laughter.
people staring. young couple. girl clearly not well. boy looking at her like she hung moon.
didn't care. let them stare.
reshma bit into jalebi. syrup dripping. made face. too sweet.
he laughed. "you literally bought it."
"didn't know would be diabetes level sweet." but ate anyway.
priya clicked photos. candid. real. "this going on instagram. couple goals. love wins. cancer loses. frame this properly."
"priya you're embarrassing," shubham said.
"i'm DOCUMENTING. big difference." she looked at them. serious moment. "bhabhi. after treatment. after everything. when you look back. you'll want these photos. these moments. trust me."
reshma's smile wobbled. after. if there's after.
but said instead. "okay video star. you're right."
they walked more. narrow lanes. old delhi. history breathing in walls.
reshma got tired. tried hiding it. failed.
"let's rest," shubham said. gentle.
"i'm fine—"
"we're resting. end of discussion."
they found small temple. corner lanes. quiet. peaceful.
sat on steps. priya went to get water. left them alone.
"saturday morning," reshma said quiet. "we were two people lying to world. now." she looked at marriage certificate. official stamp. "we're legally bound."
"regret it."
"no." fast. sure. "no regrets. terrified. yeah. but no regrets."
"me too."
silence. comfortable. real.
then her hand went to stomach. small wince.
"what," he asked quiet.
"nothing. just. nervous stomach."
"reshma."
"i'm fine." but eyes said not fine. scared. pain starting.
chemotherapy. friday. day after tomorrow. poison to kill cancer. poison that would destroy everything else too.
hair. appetite. energy. maybe hope.
"we can still postpone," he said. "treatment. if you're not ready—"
"i'm never going to be ready. cancer doesn't wait. neither can we."
"okay."
priya returned. water bottles. snacks. smile. "break over. jama masjid next. then lotus temple. then india gate. full tourist agenda."
"priya that's like five hours—"
"EXACTLY. wedding day. proper celebration. no arguments."
reshma laughed. "okay boss."
they walked. tired. happy. stolen moments.
at india gate. priya made them pose. hundred photos. video. boomerangs. every social media trick.
old couple walked past. saw them. smiled. "just married."
"how did you know," shubham asked.
"your faces. terror and joy. classic combination." old uncle laughed. "been there. best decision of my life. worst and best simultaneously."
"how long," reshma asked quiet.
"forty three years. still going." he looked at his wife. fond. real. "still worth it."
they walked away. hands linked. forty three years of worth it.
reshma watched them. something breaking in eyes.
"one day," shubham said quiet. "that could be us."
"six months," she whispered back.
"or six years. or sixty. doctors been wrong before."
"not about this."
"maybe. maybe not." he grabbed her hand. tight. "but today. right now. we're married. legal. official. yours and mine. whatever time we get. we'll make it count."
she leaned against him. exhausted. hopeful. scared. "promise."
"promise."
their flat. 9:27 pm.
came home. exhausted. happy. married.
priya crashed on couch immediately. "best day ever. but also feet dead. goodnight."
them in bedroom. marriage certificate on table. official proof today happened.
"can't believe we actually did it," reshma said.
"regret—"
"if you ask that again i'm hitting you."
he grinned. "noted."
they got ready for bed. changed clothes. brushed teeth. domestic routine. except now married. official.
climbed into bed. their bed. married couple bed.
awkward. careful. both still learning.
"so," she said. "husband."
"wife."
"weird."
"yeah."
"good weird."
"best weird."
she rolled over. faced him. "shubham."
"yeah."
"thank you. for today. for everything. for choosing this. choosing me."
"you chose me too."
"i got good deal. you got dying girl and medical bills."
"i got you. everything else is details."
she kissed him. soft. slow. tentative.
first kiss as married couple. legal. real. theirs.
when she pulled back. both smiling.
"we're really married," she whispered. still not believing.
"yeah." he showed certificate. "government approved. stamp everything."
she laughed. tucked herself against him. "friday chemotherapy starts."
"i know."
"i'm scared."
"me too."
"but today. today was perfect."
"yeah. it was."
they lay there. married. together. six months. maybe less. maybe miracle more.
didn't matter right now.
right now just them. this moment. this love.
enough.
later. much later.
building quiet. rain started again. gentle on windows. lullaby sounds.
priya's soft snoring from living room. exhausted from day's chaos.
them in bedroom. lamp off. just streetlight glow through wet curtain. shadows moving with rain.
"shubham."
"yeah."
long silence. rain filling space between words.
"friday chemo starts."
"i know."
"doctor said side effects. nausea. weakness. hair loss speeding up. skin changes. appetite gone." her voice cracking. "i don't know what happens after. what i'll look like. what i'll feel like. if i'll even be. me."
he reached across darkness. found her hand. shaking.
"you'll still be you."
"no. i won't." honest. brutal. "cancer takes pieces. one by one. strength first. then hair. then appetite. then will. until there's nothing left but hospital bed and waiting." she turned to face him. barely visible. "but tonight. right now. i'm still me. complete. whole. yours."
his heart pounding. understanding.
"reshma—"
"i want to be your wife." voice trembling. courage. fear. desire. "properly. fully. not just papers and government stamp." she moved closer. forehead against his. "i don't know what happens tomorrow. or next week. or next month. but tonight i'm still me. and you're my husband. legally. officially. finally."
breath caught. "you're sure. not because you think you have to—"
"i'm choosing." firm. scared. alive. "for once in this whole nightmare. i'm CHOOSING something. not reacting. not surviving. choosing. and i choose you. i choose this. i choose to feel alive while i still can."
silence. heavy. real. rain keeping time.
"i don't know what i'm doing," he admitted. honest. nervous. equally terrified. "never. with anyone."
she laughed. small. wet. surprised. "me neither."
"seriously?"
"seriously. wedding was going to be my first. then it. wasn't." her voice caught. "so. two clueless people. perfect. we'll figure it out together. like everything else."
pause. she pulled back slightly.
"actually. wait." her voice smaller now. "i should tell you. my body isn't—" she stopped. started again. "chemo is going to change things. but even now. i'm thinner. bones showing where they didn't before. i don't. look like." she swallowed. "like movie version of this."
he waited. let her finish.
"i've never done this. and what if it's. disappointing. or weird. or you see me without clothes and realize you made mistake and—"
"reshma."
"—i'm just saying you should know what you're getting into because soon it'll be worse and—"
"reshma." he cupped her face. gentle. "i've seen you cough blood. i've held you while you cried in bathroom. i've watched you pretend to eat when you can't. i've counted your visible ribs when you sleep." his voice cracked. "i already KNOW your body. not the movie version. the real one. and i'm here anyway."
she was crying again. "you're so—"
"stupid. yeah. established."
wet laugh. "i was going to say. kind. unbearably kind."
"also that."
silence. warmer now.
"okay." she whispered. "okay. let's. figure this out. together."
his hands found her face. trembling. both of them. in the dark. scared. wanting. real.
"if anything. if you want to stop—"
"i'll tell you. i trust you."
three words. biggest gift she could give.
"same," he said. "if i'm doing something wrong. or hurting you. or you just need it to stop—"
"you won't hurt me."
"you don't know that."
"i do." she kissed his palm. light. "i trust you."
he kissed her forehead first. gentle. reverent. then cheek. then lips. slow. careful. learning her.
"shubham."
"yeah."
"i'm nervous."
"me too. terrified actually."
she laughed against his mouth. "good. less embarrassing that way."
clothes became complicated. buttons fumbled with. dupatta tangled. his shirt getting stuck on ear somehow.
"ow."
"sorry sorry."
"smooth. very smooth."
"shut up."
"make me."
dangerous words. he did.
what came after was awkward. and tender. and overwhelming. and not at all like movies. and perfect in all the ways reality is perfect — messy and honest and full of whispered apologies and surprised laughter and moments that didn't work and moments that did.
at some point she cried. he stopped immediately.
"no. don't stop. happy tears. promise."
"you sure?"
"yes. just. feeling a lot. everything at once. good. overwhelming. alive."
he held her face. kissed tears away. "we can pause—"
"no. keep going. please."
so he did. careful. devoted. learning her geography like prayer.
afterwards.
her head on his chest. both breathing hard. both a little shell-shocked.
ceiling fan turning slow. rain still falling. world unchanged. them completely different.
"so," she said. small voice. shy now.
"so."
"that was."
"yeah."
"different."
"good different?"
"best different." she traced patterns on his chest. "also kind of. funny? the ear incident."
he groaned. "we agreed to never mention that."
"no we didn't."
"we're agreeing now."
"no." she grinned in the dark. he could hear it. "i'm telling priya."
"you're EVIL."
"and you love it."
"yeah." soft. honest. "i do."
silence. comfortable. intimate. different.
"shubham."
"hm."
"i'm scared. still. about tomorrow. about everything." she pressed closer. seeking warmth. "but. less alone. does that make sense."
"yeah." his arms tightened around her. "less alone. together. whatever comes."
"even if i'm bald and puking and skeleton-thin."
"especially then. still you. still mine."
she kissed his collarbone. light. grateful. "you're so stupid."
"established fact."
"my stupid."
"yours. government approved."
she laughed. actual laugh. light. free. lovely.
rain gentled. became whisper. somewhere a dog barked. auto rickshaw honked. delhi still alive outside. monsoon night wrapping city in wet heat.
inside small flat on third floor. two scared people held each other.
tomorrow war begins. tomorrow poison enters her veins. tomorrow her body becomes battlefield.
but tonight.
tonight they were just married. just together. just alive.
tonight she was whole. and his. and choosing.
tonight was theirs.
early morning. 5:23 am.
gray light. rain stopped. city waking.
shubham opened eyes slow. something different. someone in his arms.
reshma. still sleeping. face peaceful. first peaceful sleep in weeks maybe.
he watched her breathe. memorizing. the way her lashes curved. the small line between her eyebrows even in sleep. the hollow of her throat where her pulse moved steady. slow. alive.
her hand rested on his chest. fingers curled. holding on even unconscious. like she was afraid he'd disappear.
he traced her face. feather-light. cheekbone. jaw. corner of her mouth that twitched when she dreamed.
she stirred. eyes opening slow. seeing him watching. same as train ride but. different now. something had shifted. deepened. become new.
"creepy," she mumbled. voice sleepy. rough. beautiful.
"yeah."
"how long you been staring."
"forever."
she smiled. small. shy. new between them. "hi."
"hi."
"we really."
"yeah."
"and it was."
"yeah."
"okay. good." she stretched. winced. "also. ow. certain parts. complaining."
he turned red. "sorry i didn't mean—"
"no. good ow. just. adjusting." she rolled into him. warm. solid. alive. studied his face same way he'd studied hers. "you have a freckle. on your nose. never noticed."
"had it forever."
"i like it." she kissed it. light. "mine now."
"the freckle?"
"the whole face. all of you. mine." she grinned. sleepy. possessive. lovely.
"yours. government approved."
she laughed. tucked herself closer. "shubham."
"yeah."
"thank you. for last night. for. trusting me. being patient. letting me. choose."
throat tight. "thank you. for choosing me."
"easiest choice i ever made." she kissed his cheek. light. "hardest too. but also easiest."
silence. comfortable. morning light creeping across floor.
"chai?" he asked finally.
"please." she stretched. reluctant to leave warmth. "but that means moving."
"i'll make it. you stay."
"no." she sat up. sheet pooling. unselfconscious for first time. "together. i want to make chai together. first time as." pause. shy again. "as married couple. like actually married."
they got up. found scattered clothes. dressed each other clumsily. laughing at buttons in wrong holes. kurta inside out.
padded to kitchen. quiet. priya still snoring on couch.
he filled kettle. she found tea leaves. their movements overlapping. adjusting. learning each other's kitchen choreography.
she leaned against counter. watching water boil. "this is weird."
"bad weird?"
"no. just. domestic weird. i've never had this. someone making chai with me. not for me. with."
he understood. "me neither."
"so we're both learning."
"yeah."
kettle whistled. she poured. he added milk. she stirred. they held cups together. first chai of first morning of rest of whatever time they had.
drank in silence. standing close. shoulders touching.
outside, delhi waking. autorickshaws starting. someone playing morning azan from phone. street dogs arguing about territory.
inside. just them. just chai. just alive.
they lay back down after. because they could. because time belonged to them for few more hours.
she traced his face again. "you have eye boogers."
"romantic."
"very." she wiped them away. "there. perfect now."
"i was perfect before."
"debatable."
they laughed. quiet. intimate. theirs.
"priya's going to know," reshma said suddenly. horror in voice. "one look and she'll KNOW."
"no she won't."
"she's sixteen and terrifyingly perceptive. she'll know."
"we act normal. nothing different."
"everything's different."
"she won't know."
7:13 am.
priya at breakfast table. looked up when they walked in. scanned both faces. grinned like demon.
"FINALLY."
reshma's face went nuclear red. shubham wanted floor to swallow him.
"don't know what you mean," he tried.
"bhai you're grinning like idiot. bhabhi can't make eye contact. you're both walking funny—"
"PRIYA."
"what? i'm happy for you! live your life! also." she pulled out phone. "ma needs to know—"
"DO NOT CALL MA."
"kidding. kidding. mostly." she sipped chai. innocent. evil. "so. good night?"
"i'm killing you."
"love you too bhai." she looked at reshma. softer now. "bhabhi. you look. happy. actually happy. first time since patna."
reshma's embarrassment faded. something vulnerable showing. "yeah. i am. happy."
"good. you deserve it. both of you." priya stood. hugged them both. sudden. fierce. "whatever happens. you had this. remember that. okay?"
throat tight again. both of them.
"okay," shubham said. barely audible.
"okay," reshma echoed.
priya stepped back. grinned again. "also bhabhi your dupatta's inside out. might want to fix that."
"PRIYA."
laughter. warm. real. family.
tomorrow chemo. tomorrow war. tomorrow clocks starting again.
but this morning. sun coming through window. chai warm in cups. sister making inappropriate jokes. wife sitting across table still glowing.
this morning was perfect.
and perfect was enough.
(Speaker: listen. they earned this. after bride on bridge. after cancer diagnosis. after boss threats and blood on tissue and hospital death sentences. they EARNED this. one night. one morning. one moment of pure choosing. let them have it. darkness coming fast enough.)
Cliffhanger → They chose each other completely. One night of alive before war begins. Morning after filled with awkward breakfast and sister who knows too much. But now? Now they head toward Friday. Toward chemo. Toward the fight of their lives. At least they go together. At least they go having lived.