Chapter 29 – The Festival of Firsts
Some memories aren't made by grand gestures—
But by colors on skin, laughter in the air, and a heart learning to love louder.
—
Holi had always been Mehar's favorite festival.
But this year, it felt different. It wasn't just about colors or music or sweets—
It was their first Holi together as something more than just two people in love.
This time, they were partners in every shade of the word.
—
Aarav picked her up early in the morning, his shirt already splattered with pink and yellow.
"I brought backup," he grinned, holding up a small box of her favorite gulaal.
Mehar wore a plain white kurti, hair tied in a loose braid, and a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"You ready?" she asked, her voice light with anticipation.
"For anything with you," he said, stealing a quick kiss before she could react.
—
The celebration was a community event in their society's courtyard.
Colors flew. Buckets splashed. Laughter echoed.
And somewhere in that chaos, Mehar and Aarav found their own bubble of peace.
—
They chased each other around like kids.
She smudged blue across his cheek.
He retaliated by dumping a full bucket of colored water on her head.
She gasped. He laughed.
They danced to dhol beats, soaked to the skin, spinning in circles under the warm March sun.
And for a moment, the world didn't matter.
Only this did.
Them.
—
Later, as the crowd thinned and the sun dipped low, Mehar and Aarav sat under a tree.
Their clothes were drenched, faces messy with color, hearts full.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "You know, I used to dream of days like this."
"And?" he asked.
"They were never this real."
He looked at her, fingers brushing away a streak of green on her jaw. "Reality's messy. But it's better, isn't it?"
She smiled. "It's perfect."
—
That night, they shared more than just memories.
They talked about their past—
His fear of vulnerability.
Her battle with self-worth.
They spoke about dreams—hers about opening a gallery, his about launching his own business.
And they promised—without fanfare, without rings—
To always fight for each other, never against.
—
It wasn't a holiday filled with fireworks or declarations.
But it was the kind of day they would remember forever.
The day they let go of fears.
The day they embraced love in its messiest, most colorful form.