Page 84 of The Secret Bride
This was Armaan's father.
Armaan froze beside me. I could feel the shock radiating from him.
"Papa?" His voice came out rough with emotion.
His father smiled, and it transformed his entire face. He looked younger suddenly, the years of sadness lifting away.
"Hello, son. I hope you do not mind an unexpected visit."
Armaan moved forward quickly and embraced his father. They stood there holding each other, and I saw Dadi wipe tears from her eyes. This reunion was clearly something she had been hoping for, praying for, for many years.
When they finally pulled apart, Armaan's father turned his attention to me. His eyes were kind as they took me in, and I suddenly felt very nervous under his scrutiny.
"Papa, this is Viya," Armaan said, pulling me forward gently. "My wife."
I immediately bent down to touch his feet in a gesture of respect. His hand came to rest on my head in blessing.
"May you always be happy, beta. May you and Armaan have a long and blessed life together."
When I straightened, he was smiling at me with genuine warmth.
“Thank you, Uncle.”
"Call me Papa, please. You are my daughter now."
The simple words made my eyes prick with tears. It had been so long since I had a father figure who looked at me with such open acceptance.
"Thank you, Papa," I managed to say.
He pulled me into a gentle hug, and I felt Armaan's hand rest on my back. A united front. A family.
"Come, come," Dadi said, ushering us all toward the sofa. "Sit down. You must tell us everything about Japan."
I blushed and glanced at Armaan, who was watching me with that soft expression he reserved just for me.
We spent the next hour talking about Japan, about the trip, about the beautiful places we had seen. Armaan's father asked about my work, about my background, showing genuine interest in getting to know me.
Eventually, I excused myself to go to the kitchen. It was getting late, and everyone would need dinner soon.
I found Mamta already there, preparing vegetables.
"Mamta ji, let me help. We have a guest, and I want to make something special."
"Viya beta, you just got home from a long journey. You should rest."
"I want to do this. Please."
She smiled knowingly and stepped aside.
I cooked with care, making all of Armaan's favorite dishes. Butter chicken, dal makhani, fresh rotis, pulao. I wanted this meal to be perfect. This was the first time I was cooking for Armaan's father, and I wanted him to see that his son had married someone who could take care of him.
When everything was ready, I called everyone to the dining room. We all sat together around the table. Dadi at the head, Armaan beside me, Papa across from us.
As I served food to everyone, starting with Papa and Dadi, I felt a warmth spread through my chest. This was what family felt like. Real family. Not the strained, obligatory meals at Uncle's house, but genuine connection and love.
Papa took his first bite and his eyes widened.
"Viya, this is delicious. Armaan, you are a lucky man."
