Now the story will be from Dolly POV
Waking up next to Ashwin, who had transitioned from a formal 'Sir' to someone akin to a husband, imbued the morning with a surreal air. My belongings were still mostly packed, in stark contrast to the flurry of activity around me. Ashwin and Sharad's family moved with purposeful haste, their actions underscored by the urgency of our impending journey to Hyderabad. Amidst the bustling preparations, a wave of confusion mingled with my excitement.
Soon enough, we found ourselves at Sambhaji Nagar airport, immersing ourselves in the familiar routines of check-in and security. The thrill of my maiden flight stirred a mix of excitement and wonder, much like scenes from movies and TV shows. With a touch of humour, I mused about the bustling departure, half-joking that without it, I might suspect a grand escape plot with my belongings in tow.
Seated on the aeroplane, my curiosity prevailed, prompting me to tap Ashwin's shoulder with a barrage of questions about the airport's happenings. Expecting perhaps a chuckle or a dismissive gesture, I was instead met with warmth and patience. Ashwin, along with the others, graciously indulged my queries, their kind explanations transforming my nervousness into a feeling of inclusion. Their patient responses filled me with a comforting sense of belonging, heightening my anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead in Hyderabad.
Upon landing, Anjali Bhabhi led me to the restroom, sparking my curiosity further. She produced a beautifully wrapped package from her bag, offering it with a reassuring smile. "Dolly, I thought you might like to wear this at home today. I hope it pleases you. And, if I may be a tad nosy, how was your first night?" Her glance, teetering between inquisitive and gossipy, brought a flush of embarrassment to my cheeks.
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With my gaze cast downward, I barely whispered, "We... we opted to pace ourselves. Ashwin favoured a gentle approach." Anjali Bhabhi's soothing response, laced with understanding and a hint of encouragement, resonated, "That's so like Ashwin Bhai—always considerate. But remember, Dolly, it's perfectly alright for you to initiate when you're ready, just go with what feels right. I don't intend to intrude." Keen to change the subject, I smiled appreciatively, "Your empathy means a lot, Bhabhi. Shall we join the others?" As I placed the gift in my bag, the thought of indulging in authentic Hyderabadi Biryani momentarily lifted the veil of embarrassment, igniting a pang of hunger.
Clutching Ashwin's wrist more firmly, I ventured, "Could we perhaps have lunch soon, if your schedule allows?" Ashwin's apologetic tone conveyed his regret, "I'm sorry if you're feeling peckish. How about some snacks for now, and then a proper meal during our meeting?" Sharad chimed in, "Actually, Dolly, we've arranged a working lunch with the client, anticipating the lunch hour. Rest assured, we've planned to order something delightful for you." Pleased with their thoughtful arrangement, I expressed my gratitude, "That sounds perfect, thank you."
Sharad, with a playful nudge, then suggested, "Feel free to call me Bhaiya or simply Sharad. It might be time to drop the formal 'Sir' for Ashwin—after all, he's your husband now. 'Bhaiya' might not quite fit, but how about 'Sona Babu'?" Ashwin's immediate reaction, a playful shove to Sharad's shoulder followed by an amused eye roll, settled the matter. "Let's stick with 'Ashu,' as everyone else does," Sharad, now affectionately termed 'Bhai,' amiably conceded. "Alright, Sharad Bhai, and Ashu it is," I agreed, noting Ashwin's bashful grin. It struck me then just how handsome he was, his tall, dark, and compelling presence belying his 35 years, giving him the aura of someone in their late twenties. Caught in a brief daydream, I reminded myself, 'He's your husband, after all. A bit of admiration is only natural, isn't it?'