Author’s Legal Statement

This is a fictional story.
Any emotional damage caused by  romance, cute moments, or  family chaos or if you find yourself emotionally attached to them… is not the my responsibility instead, that is entirely your responsibility. 🙂______________________________

Vedansh's Pov

The general ward lights at AIIMS Nagpur had dimmed slightly for the night shift, but the place was still alive with soft murmurs, monitor beeps, and the shuffling of slippers against the floor. It was already 8 pm. My shift was technically over, yet I never left without checking each patient once more.

I moved from bed to bed, scanning charts, adjusting IV rates, asking brief questions. “Pain kaisa hai? [How is the pain?]” I asked one elderly uncle gently. He nodded, and I scribbled a small note.

Finally, I stopped at the last bed—the young man whose appendix had burst early morning on Maa-Papa’s anniversary. The memory of that rushed surgery flashed briefly in my mind. What a day that was… celebration at home and emergency in OT.

I checked his vitals again. Stable. Incision site clean. No abnormal tenderness. I pressed lightly. “Any pain?”

He shook his head faintly. His brother, who had been sitting on the plastic chair for hours, stood up immediately. “Doctor… sab thik to hai na? [Doctor… everything is fine, right?]”

I removed my gloves calmly. “Yes, everything is good. He’s recovering well. If things remain stable overnight, we’ll discharge him tomorrow.”

The relief on the brother’s face was almost instant. His shoulders dropped. “Thank you, doctor… thank you so much.”

I handed him a small sheet. “Just follow these instructions. Keep the wound dry. Watch for fever. And if there’s any unusual pain, inform the nurse immediately.”

He nodded repeatedly.

I’ve always tried to be polite, I reminded myself while signing the final note. Even when I’m exhausted. Families here are already fragile—fear, sleepless nights, anxiety. If I show irritation, jhagda toh fir hona hi hai. [Then conflict is bound to happen.]

Taking a long breath, I walked toward the changing room. Scrubs off. Casual clothes on—a simple t-shirt and comfortable jeans. I signed out in the register and stepped into the parking lot, the night air cool against my face.

And there he was—Himanshu—leaning against his bike, scrolling through his phone.

I frowned slightly. “Kya hua yaar, aaj itni der tak yaha? Mujhe toh laga aaj teri early shift thi. [What happened, man? Why are you here so late? I thought you had an early shift today.]”

He looked up and exhaled dramatically. “Haan, early hi thi… par ek emergency case ke liye radiology opinion chahiye tha. Isliye late ho gaya. [Yeah, it was early… but an emergency case needed radiology opinion. That’s why I got late.]”

I chuckled and patted his back. “Doctor life, my friend.”

He smirked. “Tu bhi ja ab. You look dead.”

“Thanks,” I replied dryly.

I put on my helmet, started my bike, and rode out of the campus. The roads were quieter now, streetlights casting long shadows. My shoulders ached slightly. Uff… aaj toh bohot thakan ho gayi hai. [Ugh… I’m really tired today.]

When I reached Svapnaseva Nivas, I slowed near the gate. Manish Bhaiya looked up from his guard cabin. “Good evening, Doctor Saab.”

“Good evening, Bhaiya,” I replied warmly.

I parked my bike in the shed and removed my helmet, running a hand through my hair before heading inside.

The moment I stepped in, I noticed everyone at the dining table. Plates clinking. Soft conversation. The familiar warmth of home.

I usually didn’t get to dine with them. In the early days of my MS, they used to wait, but I had insisted, “Please, you all eat on time. Don’t wait for me.”

Maa looked up first. “Sab thik hai?” [Everything okay?]

I nodded, dropping my bag near the sofa. “Haan Maa, sab thik.”

She gestured toward the wash area. “Haath-pair dho kar aa jao. Main thali laga deti hoon. [Wash up and come. I’ll serve your plate.]”

I glanced around. “Ammaji kaha hai?” [Where is Ammaji?]

Nani replied softly, “Unki bahu ki tabiyat kharab ho gayi. Shaam ko hi wapas jaana pada. [Her daughter-in-law fell sick. She had to leave in the evening.]”

“Oh,” I nodded. “Theek hai.”

I turned toward the staircase, intending to go to my room first. And that’s when I saw them.

Akshu and Bhumi were standing halfway up the stairs, leaning casually against the railing… both staring at me with identical mischievous smiles.

I slowed mid-step.

“Huh?” I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Ab kya ho gaya? [What happened now?]”

Bhumi bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Akshu raised one eyebrow dramatically but said nothing.

Why are they looking like that? I wondered. Did I forget someone’s birthday? Did something break?

Bhumi finally said, “Bhaiyaaa…” dragging the word suspiciously.

I pointed at her. “Don’t start. I’m tired.”

Akshu folded her arms, still smirking. “Shower le le pehle. Phir baat karte hain. [Take a shower first. Then we’ll talk.]”

That tone.

That suspiciously calm tone.

Definitely something has happened.

But my body overruled my curiosity. “Fine. Pehle shower. Baaki drama baad mein. [First shower. The rest of the drama later.]”

I climbed the stairs, feeling their eyes on my back the entire time.

Inside my room, I closed the door and leaned against it for a second. What are they up to?

I shook my head and headed to the bathroom. Warm water cascaded over me, easing the stiffness from hours of standing in OT and ward rounds. My mind began replaying the day, but beneath the fatigue, there was a strange anticipation.

Ghar mein kuch toh pak raha hai… [Something is cooking at home…]

I turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

“Alright, Dr. Ved,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s see what circus awaits downstairs.”

And with that lingering curiosity buzzing faintly in my chest, I stepped out of the bathroom, unaware that tonight’s dinner conversation was about to change the direction of my life.
______________________________

By the time I came downstairs, I was in my usual comfort mode—half bermuda shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. Loose. Easy. Breathable. I hated restrictive clothes after a long hospital day. Comfort over fashion, always, I mentally declared as I ran a towel once through my hair and stepped into the dining area.

Surprisingly, only Maa and Papa were at the table now, quietly eating. The rest of the house seemed to be murmuring from the living room where the TV was on. Some serial background music floated faintly.

I pulled a chair and sat down with a sigh. “Khaane mein kya hai?” [What’s there for dinner?]

Maa served silently.

I looked at the sabzi.

“Bhindi…” I groaned dramatically. “Seriously, Maa?”

She gave me that look. “It’s healthy.”

“I know it’s healthy,” I muttered. “But I don’t like it.”

Fortunately, I spotted the bowl of dal. “At least daal bhi hai,” I said with relief. “I’ll manage.”

Papa glanced at me over his glasses but said nothing yet. I started eating, quietly mixing dal with rice. The house felt… strange. Calm, but not the usual calm. There was something hovering in the air.

Halfway through my meal, Papa cleared his throat.

That tone.

That serious tone.

“Ved,” he began, carefully, “khaane ke baad mujhe tumse kuch baat karni hai.” [After dinner, I need to talk to you about something.]

I paused mid-bite and looked up. He rarely used that tone nowadays. Not since I had become more settled. My brows furrowed slightly, but I nodded. “Theek hai, Papa.” [Alright.]

From the corner of my eye, I saw Maa smiling. Not just smiling—smiling widely. Almost unable to control it.

What is wrong with everyone today? I wondered. Why are they all looking at me like they know something I don’t?

I finished my meal quietly, mind racing through possibilities. Hospital issue? Some financial matter? Property discussion? But the atmosphere didn’t feel tense. It felt… excited.

After finishing, I stood up, carried my plate to the basin, and washed my hands. As I dried them, a sudden craving hit me. Kuch meetha khane ka mann ho raha hai. [I feel like eating something sweet.]

I opened the fridge and spotted small chocolates kept in a corner box. Without thinking too much, I popped one into my mouth and headed toward the living room.

The TV was off.

Everyone was sitting there.

Papa. Maa. Mausi. Nani. Akshu. Bhumi.

All looking at me.

I stopped mid-step.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked cautiously.

Akshu and Bhumi sniggered but immediately straightened when Gudiya Mausi shot them a warning glare.

Now I was officially uncomfortable.

Papa cleared his throat again but then stopped, as if rehearsing words internally and rejecting each version. Maa adjusted her dupatta awkwardly. Mausi avoided eye contact.

Why does this feel like a board meeting about my life?

Finally, Nani sighed. “Agar sab log sharma kar waqt barbaad hi karne wale hain toh main hi bata deti hoon.” [If everyone is going to waste time feeling shy, then I will say it.]

She looked directly at me.

“Ved beta… shaadi ke baare mein tumhara kya khayal hai?” [What do you think about marriage?]

I blinked.

Caught completely off guard.

“Shaadi?” I repeated. “Meri?” [Marriage? Mine?]

Why was this topic back?

I felt heat creeping up my neck. “Matlab?” [Meaning?] I asked carefully, knowing very well I was turning slightly red.

Nani smiled faintly, but Papa took over.

“Humne… tumhare liye rishta dekhna shuru kar diya hai.” [We have started looking at proposals for you.]

Silence.

Inside me, there was a brief earthquake.

Outside, I stayed composed.

Okay… so it has begun.

I had always known this day would come. It wasn’t like I had anything against arranged marriage. In fact, I had kind of expected it. Beneath my calm, practical exterior, I was a hopeless romantic—I wrote fanfictions for heaven’s sake. But real-life romance? Between MBBS, MS, YouTube, responsibilities… there was never time.

I always assumed my marriage would be arranged.

Still… hearing it aloud was different.

Since my MS began, I hadn’t thought about my own marriage much. Himanshu and Priyanka were married now. They were my age. I couldn’t even use the “I’m too young” excuse anymore. And it wasn’t like I wasn’t settled. I was stable. Professionally. Financially.

So what exactly was my argument?

I slowly came back to the present and simply nodded. “I see.”

That’s all I said.

“I see.”

Akshu immediately burst into suppressed laughter. “Bas? ‘I see’? That’s your reaction?” she teased.

I grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at her. “Chup kar.” [Shut up.]

She dodged dramatically while Bhumi giggled beside her.

Nani then began a short recap—how through Sumitraji they came to know about Gayatri ji, how one conversation led to another, and how today they had gone to meet the Mishras. They hadn’t met the girl yet—Saumya—but had met her family.

I listened silently, genuinely surprised.

So much had already happened.

Without me even knowing.

I leaned back slightly, processing everything. They’ve already gone to meet them… things are moving this fast?

For the first time that evening, my heart beat a little louder—not out of fear, but out of realization.

Something had already begun.

And I was only just catching up.

I leaned back into the sofa, still holding the cushion I had attacked Akshu with moments ago. My face was warm—no, burning—and I could feel Bhumi’s eyes scanning me for any sign of embarrassment she could weaponize later.

Trying to compose myself, I cleared my throat. “So… I mean… is everything fixed then?” I asked, sounding far more clueless than I intended.

Maa immediately shook her head. “Of course not, Ved. We’ve only taken the first step. Bas shuruaat hai. [It’s just the beginning.] Ultimately, it will be upon you and Saumya to decide whether to proceed or not.”

I nodded slowly. That was fair. Logical. Sensible.

Still, I knew I was red. And I knew these two devils—Akshu and Bhumi—would not let this go easily.

I exhaled deeply. Alright. Let’s go with it. If this had begun, then I might as well face it properly.

Trying to sound braver than I felt, I asked, “Is there any biodata of the girl? And… do they need my biodata?”

Bhumi instantly jumped in. “Kyu? Shaadi ke liye apna biodata already bana kar rakha hai kya? [Why? Have you already prepared your biodata for marriage?]” she teased dramatically.

Without hesitation, I threw the cushion at her. “No! I just know one needs biodata in these things,” I defended myself.

Akshu smirked from the side. “Relax, Dr. Ved. I already made yours in the evening.”

I froze.

“You… what?”

She leaned back proudly. “Yes. Proper format. Education, profession, hobbies, family details… everything.”

Now I was officially alarmed. “Ladki ka kya bharosa… kuch bhi daal degi toh? [Who knows what you might have written… what if you’ve added anything random?]” I protested. “Let me see it.”

Akshu narrowed her eyes. “Why? Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” I said flatly.

Everyone burst into laughter.

It took some convincing—and a firm glare from Maa toward Akshu—but finally she handed me her laptop.

Meanwhile, Papa spoke calmly, “We don’t have Saumya’s biodata yet. Her family said that after discussing at their end, they’ll send it.”

I nodded, focusing on the screen now. My own name stared back at me in bold letters.

Dr. Vedansh Sharma.

I began reading carefully.

Education: MBBS – AIIMS Nagpur. MS General Surgery – AIIMS Nagpur.
Profession: Senior Resident, General Surgery.
Future Plans: Pursuing M.Ch in CTVS and academic career.
Hobbies: Reading fantasy literature, writing, music, cooking…

I paused at that.

“You wrote cooking?” I asked suspiciously.

Akshu shrugged. “Why not? You cook better than half the people in this house.”

Bhumi added, “Correction—better than everyone except maybe Mausi.”

Maa smiled proudly.

I continued reading.

“Strengths: Responsible, calm under pressure, family-oriented.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Calm?”

Papa coughed softly. “Most of the time.”

I sighed but kept reading. Overall… it wasn’t bad. In fact, it was… accurate. Balanced. Not exaggerated.

After a few minutes, Maa’s voice softened. “Ved… tum khush nahi ho?” [You’re not happy?]

I looked up at her.

I exhaled slowly. “It’s not like that, Maa. It’s just… sab itna achanak ho raha hai ki I don’t get to process yet. [Everything is happening so suddenly that I haven’t had time to process it.]”

That was the truth.

I wasn’t against it. I wasn’t unhappy. I was just… catching up to something that had already begun moving.

The room grew quieter for a moment.

Then a thought struck me.

I turned toward Bhumi. “This Dev Mishra… is he the same one in MBBS second year? In your class?”

She blinked. “Yes. How do you know him?”

I leaned back slightly. “I’ve met him. He’s into research, right? One day his professor was busy, so he told me to guide him for a bit. I knew him… a little. Sort of.”

Bhumi’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You guided Dev?”

“Briefly,” I clarified. “He seemed sincere. A bit energetic… but sharp.”

Bhumi grinned. “Energetic? That’s a polite way of saying mischievous.”

I smirked faintly. “That too.”

The realization slowly settled in the room.

Not only had our families met.

Not only had biodatas begun circulating.

But I had already, unknowingly, crossed paths with someone from her world.

Strange how threads connect before you even see the pattern.

I closed the laptop gently and handed it back to Akshu.

“So… what now?” I asked, looking at Papa.

He adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. “Now we wait for their reply. Then… if both sides agree, maybe you two can meet.”

Meet.

The word lingered longer than expected.

My heartbeat, which had been steady all evening, shifted just slightly.

I leaned back into the sofa, folding my arms loosely. “Hmm.”

Bhumi leaned forward mischievously. “Bhaiya… nervous?”

I gave her a warning look.

Inside though—

Maybe a little.

______________________________

Third person pov:

Meanwhile in Friends Colony, Mishra House, Nagpur.

The living room carried a quiet heaviness that hadn’t been there in the morning. The soft yellow lights reflected against cream-colored walls, framed family photographs neatly aligned—school prizes, Aarav’s office award ceremony, Dev’s science fair medal, and one large portrait of Saumya in her Kathak attire, ghungroos tied carefully around her ankles.

Raghav sat on the single-seater sofa, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlocked. His usually firm face looked cautious tonight. Meenakshi sat beside him on the larger sofa, her hands folded in her lap, occasionally stealing anxious glances at their daughter.

Aarav leaned back slightly, trying to look relaxed but failing miserably. Every now and then, Saumya shot him a look that clearly said “How could you?” and he responded with a sheepish, apologetic half-smile.

Since dinner, she had barely spoken.

The bombshell had been dropped very casually between rotis and dal.

“Humne tumhare liye rishta dekhna shuru kar diya hai.” [We have started looking for a proposal for you.]

And not just that—they had already met the boy’s family.

Saumya sat now at the far end of the sofa, fingers intertwined tightly in her dupatta. Her long dark brown hair fell over one shoulder, slightly messy from the absent-minded way she had been twisting it. Her warm expressive eyes—usually soft and lively—were clouded with quiet anxiety.

She wasn’t angry.

She wasn’t rebellious.

She was just… overwhelmed.

Shaadi? Already? her thoughts echoed.

She had completed her post-graduation in English Literature. She had even tried working briefly, but office structures and rigid schedules hadn’t suited her. With Aarav handling finances confidently and Papa still having several years before retirement, there had never been pressure on her to earn immediately.

So she had done what her heart wanted.

She had been writing.

Working on the first draft of her dream fantasy romance series—loosely inspired by Indian legends, secret knowledge, forgotten manuscripts. She hadn’t even named it yet. It was her quiet sanctuary.

And now—

Marriage talks.

She didn’t have a secret boyfriend hidden somewhere.

She wasn’t secretly in love.

She wasn’t even opposed to arranged marriage.

The boy—Vedansh Sharma—sounded nice, respectable. A doctor. Calm. Family-oriented. With a best friend who was a microbiologist, Kavya, it wasn’t like she couldn’t understand medical discussions or hospital life. She wasn’t naïve about professions.

It was just—

Am I ready?

That question echoed louder than anything else.

What if her future family didn’t support her writing dreams? What if they expected her to just… adjust? What if they didn’t understand that stories weren’t a hobby for her—they were her life?

And then the biggest thought of all—

How will I leave them?

Her parents. Aarav. Dev.

Just imagining packing her things and stepping out as someone’s bride made her chest tighten.

The sound of the doorbell broke the thick silence.

Aarav stood up automatically and opened the door.

Dev entered, slightly breathless, trying to tiptoe in quietly. “Sorry, sorry, thoda late ho gaya,” he said casually, removing his shoes. [Sorry, got a bit late.]

Meenakshi immediately stood up. “Dev! Itni der? Phone kar deta kam se kam.” [So late? At least you could have called.]

“Traffic tha, Mummy…” he began defensively, but his words trailed off mid-sentence.

He looked around.

Baba serious. Mummy tense. Aarav awkward. Saumya silent.

He blinked.

“Ho kya raha hai?” [What is happening?]

Aarav cleared his throat. “Saumya ki shaadi ki baat chal rahi hai. Aur main aur Mummy aaj ladke ke gharwalo se milkar aaye.” [There are marriage talks for Saumya. And Mom and I went to meet the boy’s family today.]

Dev froze.

Shocked would be an understatement.

He looked at his sister.

Saumya, who had always been his soft, gentle Di. The one who saved the last piece of chocolate for him. The one who pretended not to notice when he broke her favorite pen. The one who listened patiently to his random research rants.

His expression shifted—protective instincts rising instantly, even though he was younger.

To break the thick atmosphere, he raised an eyebrow dramatically and said loudly, “Kaun hai jo iss chudail se shaadi karke apni zindagi mein toofan lana chahta hai?” [Who is this brave soul who wants to marry this witch and bring a storm into his life?]

Aarav’s lips twitched.

It worked.

Saumya blinked, then snapped out of her anxious trance. “Baba!” she complained immediately, turning toward Raghav. “Dev mujhe chudail bol raha hai!” [Dev is calling me a witch!]

Raghav straightened at once.

“Dev!” he said sternly, though his eyes were amused.

He stood up and mock-hit Dev lightly on the shoulder.

“Princess ko chudail bolega?” [You’ll call my princess a witch?]

Dev dramatically clutched his shoulder. “See? Biased family!” he protested.

And just like that, the tension in the room cracked slightly—though beneath the humor, something significant still lingered, waiting to be addressed.

The air that had moments ago felt thick with unspoken fears had softened into something warmer.

Saumya now lay curled on the sofa, her head resting on Meenakshi’s lap. Meenakshi absentmindedly stroked her long dark brown hair, her fingers moving through the silky strands with a rhythm only a mother could have. Saumya’s expressive dark brown eyes were still thoughtful, but no longer glassy with shock. Dev had plopped down cross-legged on the carpet near the center table, leaning against the sofa like he used to during exam discussions.

“Ab seriously batao, Mummy, kya ho raha hai?” Dev asked, this time without a trace of mischief. “What is actually going on?”

Meenakshi took a slow breath. “Theek hai,” she said softly. “I will tell you everything from the beginning.”

Saumya shifted slightly but didn’t lift her head. This is it. No running away now, she thought.

“A few days ago,” Meenakshi began, “Gayatri Bua called me.”

“Gayatri Nani,” Dev corrected automatically, since for him she was a grandmother figure.

“Yes, Gayatri Nani for you,” Meenakshi smiled faintly. “She said her friend, Sumitraji, has recommended a rishta for our Som.”

At the nickname, Saumya’s lips curved faintly.

“Sumitraji’s natin—Shraddha—is married to the cousin of the boy,” Meenakshi continued carefully. “Apparently they know the family very well. One thing led to another… and today Aarav and I went to meet the boy’s parents, his Mausi, and his Nani.”

Dev blinked. “Wait… Gayatri Nani's friend's  granddaughter’s husband’s cousin?” He frowned dramatically. “Yeh rishta hai ya railway network?” (Is this a marriage proposal or a railway network?)

Aarav chuckled. “Thoda complicated hai, haan.” (It is a bit complicated, yes.) “But family achhi hai.” (But the family is good.)

Dev rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Sounds like that boy is connected to half of Nagpur through invisible threads.”

Aarav cleared his throat but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Naam pooch le pehle.” (Ask his name first.)

“Haan, naam kya hai?” Dev asked, leaning forward.

It was Raghav who answered this time. “You might actually know him. He is a surgeon at AIIMS Nagpur.”

Dev straightened instantly.

“Vedansh Sharma,” Raghav said evenly.

For a split second there was silence.

Then Dev gasped. “Dr. Ved?” he stuttered.

Saumya’s head lifted from her mother’s lap. Her cheeks had turned a delicate pink. “Tum jaante ho unhe?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “Do you know him personally?”

Dev opened his mouth—this was the golden opportunity to tease her mercilessly—but the excitement bubbling inside him overpowered the urge.

“Know him?” he burst out. “Kaun nahi jaanta Dr. V ko?” (Who doesn’t know Dr. V?)

All three elders leaned forward slightly.

“What do you mean?” Aarav asked, curiosity lighting his face.

Dev’s eyes were practically shining. “Dr. Ved is one of the best surgeons of his age group at AIIMS. Total topper type since MBBS first year. Professors adore him. But that’s not even the main thing!”

“Phir?” Meenakshi asked, intrigued.

“He’s famous,” Dev declared dramatically. “From his YouTube channel. He started it during MBBS. It’s called ‘Dr Ved.’ He posts all kinds of content—medical explanations, lifestyle, even music sometimes.”

Meenakshi’s brows rose. “They mentioned he has a YouTube channel… but I didn’t realize he was that famous.”

A faint crease formed between her eyebrows. “Famous ladka…” she murmured. “Aaj kal ke zamaane mein…” (In today’s times…)

Saumya felt that flicker too. Famous? Public figure? What if he is… different in private? Her fingers twisted slightly into the edge of her dupatta.

Dev caught the shift instantly.

“Aisa vaisa kuch bhi nahi hai,” he said firmly. (There is nothing like that.) “Pure college ko malum hai.” (The whole college knows.) “Pichle 9 saalon mein—since his MBBS first year till now—he has never had any fling, any romance, nothing. Bilkul clean record.” (Absolutely clean record.)

Aarav’s lips parted slightly in surprise.

“He’s always been a star student,” Dev continued proudly, as if speaking of a senior he deeply admired. “Favourite of professors. And he’s genuinely good. Last year he guided me one day for my research project. I was stuck and he just… explained everything so patiently.”

Saumya listened intently. Her heart, which had been fluttering anxiously all evening, now beat in a different rhythm.

So he is disciplined. Focused. And kind enough to help juniors…

Dev suddenly turned toward her with exaggerated seriousness.

“Oh please, Di,” he said, clasping his hands dramatically. “Marry him.”

“Dev!” Saumya gasped, half scandalized, half flustered.

“Oh my God,” he continued, ignoring her glare. “My friends won’t believe it—ki I have THE Dr. Ved as my jiju!” (that I have THE Dr. Ved as my brother-in-law!)

Saumya threw a cushion at him. “Shut up!”

But this time, there was unmistakable color in her cheeks—and a tiny, hesitant spark of curiosity in her eyes that hadn’t been there before…

“Bas, bas!” Dev laughed as the cushion hit his shoulder. “Violence already? Shaadi ke pehle hi?” (Before marriage itself?)

“Dev!” Saumya warned, mortified.

Before the siblings could spiral into a full-fledged mock fight, Raghav cleared his throat in that unmistakable fatherly way that demanded attention.

“Enough,” he said calmly, though a hint of curiosity gleamed in his eyes. “Aarav, zara search karo.” (Search a bit.) “Hum bhi toh dekhe ki aakhir kya dalta hai YouTube pe.” (Let us also see what he uploads on YouTube.)

Dev didn’t even wait for Aarav.

“I’m on it!” he declared, springing up like a coiled spring. Within seconds, he had grabbed the remote and switched on the smart TV mounted on the living room wall.

Dev typed quickly. “D-R… space… V-E-D…”

The channel appeared almost instantly.

“There!” he pointed dramatically.

The screen showed a crisp banner—Dr Ved—with a professional but warm-looking display picture.

Saumya’s breath hitched slightly.

She had gone quiet again. The teasing had faded, replaced by a sudden wave of shyness. Her fingers intertwined in her lap, and she stared fixedly at the carpet’s floral pattern.

Oh God… they’re all watching him because of me…

She could feel heat creeping up her cheeks. Why am I blushing? I haven’t even seen him yet… properly.

Dev began scrolling through the videos rapidly.

“Okay no, not this one,” he muttered. “Krebs cycle in 20 minutes? Mummy will disown me.”

“Dev!” Meenakshi protested, though she was smiling.

“Arre sach mein!” (Seriously!) he grinned. “You won’t want to know glycolysis at 10 pm.”

He scrolled further.

“Ah! This one is good.” He pointed. “Time management in MBBS first year. Casual enough. Not too nerdy.”

Raghav adjusted his spectacles slightly. “Play it.”

Dev clicked.

The video opened with a clean intro. Then the screen shifted.

And there he was.

Vedansh Sharma.

For a brief second, no one spoke.

He was sitting in what looked like a neatly arranged room—simple background, bookshelf behind him. He wore a sleeveless dark T-shirt. His hair was slightly tousled but well kept, his posture straight yet relaxed.

And yes… the muscles in his arms were very visible.

Aarav’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Fit lagta hai.” (He looks fit.)

“Haan,” Dev nodded approvingly. “Gym karta hai regularly.” (He works out regularly.)

On screen, Vedansh smiled lightly. “Hi everyone, welcome back to the channel…”

His voice was calm, steady, and confident.

Saumya kept staring at her lap.

Dev nudged her with his elbow. “Di,” he whispered mischievously, “you can look up. He won’t come out of the screen.”

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath.

But slowly, almost hesitantly, she lifted her gaze.

And saw him.

Her breath stilled.

He was undeniably handsome—not in a flashy way, but in a grounded, composed manner. Sharp jawline, warm brown eyes, faint stubble that made him look mature yet approachable. The sleeveless T-shirt revealed toned arms, veins faintly visible under the skin.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she forced them to behave.

Oh…

He… looks like this?

Her heart gave a very unnecessary little leap.

On screen, Vedansh continued, “First year MBBS can feel overwhelming. But trust me, if you structure your day properly…”

He spoke with clarity and ease, occasionally smiling in a way that softened his serious features.

Saumya swallowed.

He doesn’t look arrogant…

He looks… sincere.

Her gaze accidentally drifted back to his arms for a second.

And froze.

Dev noticed.

His grin widened wickedly.

“Ahem,” he coughed dramatically. “Di, focus on the time management tips. Not on muscle management.”

“DEV!” Saumya hissed, horrified.

Aarav burst out laughing. Even Raghav’s lips twitched despite himself.

Meenakshi shot Dev a look. “Stop teasing her.”

But Saumya’s ears had turned crimson.

“I was not—” she started defensively, then stopped. Why am I even explaining?

On screen, Vedansh leaned slightly forward while explaining how to divide study hours.

There was something comforting in his tone. No show-off attitude. No unnecessary dramatics. Just quiet confidence.

Raghav watched thoughtfully. “He speaks well,” he said after a moment. “Clear thoughts.”

“Haan,” Aarav agreed. “Grounded lagta hai.” (He seems grounded.)

Dev nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! That’s what I was saying.”

Saumya watched silently now, her earlier anxiety mixing with something new.

Curiosity.

A strange, unfamiliar flutter.

So this is the boy…

The one they are talking about…

Her eyes lingered on the screen, absorbing every small expression, every shift in tone.

And somewhere inside her, the storm that had begun at dinner slowly transformed into something far more complicated—and far more intriguing…

The video ended, but no one immediately moved.

Dev, however, was already scrolling again.

“Wait, wait… look at this one,” he said, clicking back to the channel page. “He has so many videos.”

They didn’t play them all. Instead, they began browsing through thumbnails—small frozen glimpses of Vedansh in different settings. In some he wore scrubs inside what looked like a hospital corridor. In others, he sat casually with a guitar. One thumbnail showed him standing beside his mother, smiling proudly. Another had bold text that read: ‘Why women in medicine deserve equal respect.’

Saumya’s gaze paused there.

Then another: ‘To every girl told she can’t pursue surgery – this is for you.’

And another: ‘Balancing family expectations and personal dreams.’

Her fingers tightened slightly in her lap.

He talks about this? Publicly?

She leaned forward almost unconsciously, her eyes scanning more titles.

‘Respecting boundaries.’

‘Support your sister’s ambition.’

Her heart did something strange again.

He… is like this?

From just the thumbnails, from the way the words were framed, from the expressions in his face—earnest, not performative—Saumya felt she could deduce something important.

He isn’t threatened by strong women.

He doesn’t sound like someone who would cage a person.

The fear that had been sitting like a rock in her chest since dinner shifted slightly.

If… if I marry someday…

Her thoughts drifted dangerously ahead.

Would he let me write? Would he support my series? Would he laugh at my half-baked fantasy plots… or listen?

Her cheeks warmed instantly.

Why am I thinking like this already? Pagal ho kya? (Have you gone mad?)

She dropped her gaze again, biting the inside of her cheek.

Meenakshi noticed everything.

A mother always does.

From the initial shock, to the tension, to the shy glances at the screen… and now the quiet absorption while scanning the thumbnails.

Meenakshi’s lips curved into a soft knowing smile.

Reservations pighal rahe hain. (The reservations are melting.)

She waited a few seconds more as Dev excitedly narrated random facts about view counts and comments.

Then, deciding it was now or never, she spoke gently.

“Toh kya lagta hai?” she asked, her tone calm but hopeful. “Kya main Bhavikaji ko tumhara biodata bhej du… yeh kehte hue ki tum interested ho baat aage badhane mein?” (So what do you think? Should I send your biodata to Bhavikaji saying that you are interested in taking this forward?)

The room fell silent instantly.

Saumya looked up slowly.

First at her Mummy.

Then her eyes shifted to her Baba.

Raghav sat straight, hands folded loosely, expression carefully neutral. But Som knew him. She knew the tiny lift at the corner of his mouth meant approval. She knew the softened gaze meant he was impressed.

Baba likes him, she realized.

Her heart squeezed.

Then she looked at Aarav.

He was pretending to scroll casually on his phone, as if this was all very routine. But his eyebrows were slightly raised, and he was clearly googling more about Vedansh instead of maintaining his fake indifference.

Bhai bhi impressed hai… (Brother is impressed too.)

And then she looked at Dev.

He wasn’t even pretending.

He was staring at her with literal stars in his eyes, silently chanting say yes, say yes, say yes without uttering a word.

Saumya inhaled slowly.

Shall I?

Marriage.

Such a heavy word.

It wasn’t that she was against arranged marriage. She never had been. Nor did she secretly love someone else. Her heart had been untouched by romance so far—just a few fleeting crushes in college that meant nothing.

But marriage meant leaving this house.

Leaving Mummy’s lap.

Baba’s protective scoldings.

Aarav’s responsible presence.

Dev’s constant chaos.

Her throat tightened briefly.

Can I do it?

Then another thought surfaced.

What if… it’s not losing? What if it’s gaining something new?

She thought of the thumbnails again. Of the calm confidence in his voice. Of the respect evident in his words.

He doesn’t look like someone who will suffocate dreams.

And maybe… just maybe… she didn’t have to decide everything today. This was just saying yes to talking further.

Not to marriage immediately.

Her fingers twisted nervously.

Everyone waited.

Even Dev stopped breathing dramatically.

After a few silent seconds, Saumya lowered her gaze… and shyly nodded.

It was small.

But it was clear.

Meenakshi’s face lit up instantly, her smile wide and radiant. Aarav and Dev, however, exchanged mischievous looks.

“Haan? Kya kaha?” Aarav asked innocently. “We didn’t hear you.”

“Haan Di,” Dev chimed in, equally innocent. “Network issue. Repeat please.”

Saumya glared at both of them. “Bhaiya!”

“Loud and clear bolo,” Dev grinned. “This is important life decision.”

She covered her face with her hands. “Haan!” she burst out finally. “Theek hai! Send it!”

Dev whooped softly.

Aarav smirked. “Ohhh…”

“Bas!” she protested, swatting at them again.

Amidst the teasing, Raghav and Meenakshi exchanged a long glance.

There was relief in it.

And quiet happiness.

“Lagta hai Saumya ki taraf se haan hai,” Raghav murmured softly.

Meenakshi nodded, already reaching for her phone. “Main abhi bhej deti hoon.” (I will send it right now.)

“WhatsApp pe hi bhej dete hain,” Aarav suggested. “And write clearly that she is interested in taking the conversation forward.”

“Yes,” Raghav agreed. “Kal subah phone kar lenge.” (We’ll call tomorrow morning.)

Meenakshi opened the chat, her fingers hovering for a moment before typing carefully.

Saumya sat silently again, heart racing.

This is real now…

As her biodata attachment icon appeared on the screen, and the message was drafted stating that Saumya was interested in moving the conversation ahead…
______________________________

Author’s Note 🤭

And just like that… the plot officially thickens.

Vedansh Sharma went to the hospital this morning thinking about patients, surgeries, and discharge summaries.

He came home to find out that his entire marriage proposal is already in progress.

Welcome to the Indian Family Surprise Package™.

Let’s review the situation:

• Ved: “Shaadi? Meri?”
• Sisters: already prepared his biodata like professional wedding planners.
• Parents: “Bas mil liye the… aise hi.” (We just met them… casually.)
• Nani: emotionally invested.
• Ved: internally processing life decisions while dodging teasings thrown by his sisters.

Poor man didn’t even get time to mentally prepare.

Meanwhile at Mishra House…

Saumya: peacefully existing before dinner.
Family: “Beta ek rishta aaya hai.”

Classic.

And then Dev casually dropping the bomb:

"Arre yeh toh Dr Ved hai!"

Which leads to the entire family discovering his YouTube channel.

Imagine your potential in-laws watching your videos like a background check documentary.

Vedansh Sharma: surgeon by day
YouTuber by night
Unknowingly under future in-law investigation.

And Saumya?

She just quietly watched his videos and realized something important…

Maybe this rishta isn’t as scary as she thought.

Also let us all appreciate the coincidence level in this story:

Bhumi → studies with Dev
Dev → knows Ved
Saumya → watching Ved’s videos
Ved → unaware that his videos are helping his own marriage proposal

Fate really said: “Main sab set kar deta hoon.”
(I’ll arrange everything.)

And with one small nod from Saumya…

The rishta has officially taken one step forward.

Now tell me in the comments 👇

What do you think happens next?

A) Ved stalks Saumya’s biodata immediately
B) Akshu and Bhumi start a full investigation
C) Ved pretends to be calm but secretly panics
D) All of the above

If you enjoyed this chapter, please vote ⭐ and drop a comment.

Your votes and comments seriously motivate me to update faster and keep this story going.

Next chapter… things might get even more interesting.

Because sooner or later…

Vedansh Sharma is going to see Saumya Mishra’s photo.

And trust me…

that moment is going to be fun. 😏