The next morning at Airan Villa arrived with a fresh wave of excitement. The house, which had been bustling with wedding festivities over the past few days, now carried a quieter yet equally special happiness. It was the day of Takshvi's pehli rasoi. Although she had already cooked once because of a family ritual, tradition demanded that she prepare it again for the family, and she had happily insisted on doing everything herself.

From early morning, the aroma of freshly prepared dishes had spread throughout the villa, filling every corner with the comforting scent of home-cooked food. The kitchen staff and butlers had repeatedly offered to help, but Takshvi had politely refused almost everything, wanting to make each dish with her own hands. Meanwhile, in the dining area, Yuvaan and Anish had been waiting for what felt like forever. Both brothers had tried convincing her not to prepare so many items and to let the chefs handle most of the work, but Takshvi had remained firm. No amount of persuasion could change her mind once she had decided something.