CAUGHT IN SHUFFLE

Marriage came with more than just a new last name and a shared Netflix account—it came with unexpected emotions, small wins, silent struggles, and the kind of learning that feels a lot like re-learning… but with someone watching.
Living apart from our families has been its own little adventure. Being on our own gave us the chance to define life on our terms. From balancing house chores and mismatched routines to figuring out how to split time and space, this new chapter has been a full package—emotions, experiments, understanding, and patience. And something tells me… the learning won’t stop anytime soon.
If I’m being completely honest, the first couple of months felt like we were two unsupervised kids finally let loose.
Drinking cold coffee in freezing winters, roaming around malls just for fun, playing games, eating out more than we should’ve—it brought out the child in us.
But beneath that chaos was something deeper: honest conversations, the occasional heated discussion, moments of homesickness, and slowly—really slowly—learning how to make this place feel like home.
Decorating our space together has been the most wholesome part.
From figuring out whether the plant goes here or there, obsessing over curtain placements and kitchen accessories, to wrapping fairy lights around anything that would hold them—shelves, windows, even the headboard. There’s something about creating a space that feels just right—not because it’s perfect, but because it’s ours.

We had always imagined that once we were finally together, we’d do everything.
Weekend trips, fun hobbies, kitchen experiments—a new kind of “us.”
And honestly, we do.
We’ve taken spontaneous weekend trips (some more chaotic than others), and we’ll keep doing that whenever we can. But the truth is, it’s not always easy to find the time. Life tends to get in the way. Work schedules, chores, fatigue—it all adds up.
Spontaneity sounds dreamy in theory, but we’re learning that planned trips—ones we actually sit down, talk about, and block dates for—are far more fulfilling. Especially when one of us has a full-time job with responsibilities that don’t pause for wanderlust.
That said, even within those planned trips, leaving a little room for spontaneous adventures—an unplanned detour, a random food stop, or simply doing nothing at all—makes everything feel more exciting, more us, and somehow more whole.
As for hobbies? We’ve tried a few. Some fun, some just funny. But we haven’t quite found our thing yet.
And that’s okay.
We’re still learning. Still exploring. Still figuring out what feels right and what just looked good on Pinterest.
But food? That’s its own kind of hobby in our home.
There are days when the kitchen turns into his little lab.
He’s always experimenting—making different styles of dosas, layering sandwiches in ways I never thought of, and trying out something new, just because.
Sometimes I try to sneak in to help, and every time I do, I hear the same line:
“Don’t come in the kitchen now. Just sit down—I’ll make it for you.”
And honestly? That’s the kind of love that tastes better than anything we could ever cook.
The best part is—we enjoy the trying.
Even if nothing sticks, the willingness to try something new together—that counts for a lot.

One of the harder parts? The day-to-day adulting.
No one talks enough about how much energy goes into running a home.
And when you live by yourselves, there’s no buffer.
No backup.
No one to remind you to eat well, do the laundry, or drink water. You become your own caretaker—and each other’s too.
I still remember the week both of us fell sick. Not a mild cold—an actual viral that knocked us out for five whole days.
We couldn’t properly care for each other—still taking turns to check on the other, but barely functioning ourselves.
There were no parents to check in, no comfort food waiting, no one to ask, “How are you feeling?”
Other than each other.
That’s when the absence of family really hit us.
Living alone is great—until you’re sick, tired, and craving a familiar voice or a bowl of homemade khichdi.

Like they say: with freedom comes great responsibility.
And oh boy, responsibility really knows how to show up.
From planning meals and buying groceries to maintaining a peaceful (and clean-ish) environment—it’s a lot.
You skip one task, and suddenly the whole rhythm is off. Hello, domino effect.
But in all that chaos, we’ve picked up small, meaningful things.
We started working out together—sometimes reluctantly, sometimes enthusiastically.
We’ve built habits, made checklists, forgotten about those checklists, and rebuilt them again.
We’ve started taking care of each other in ways we didn’t know how to before.
We’ve had serious conversations about money, health, long-term plans, and even which flavour of soap smells better.
We’ve made decisions—some quick, some slow.
And we’re still growing into this new version of us.

It’s been a year.
We’re still figuring it out—how life works, how we work, and how to grow without losing the lightness between us.
Some days feel effortless. Some days feel like we’re barely making it.
But we keep choosing each other.
That, to me, is what this journey is really about.
It’s not just about fairy lights and matching clothes.
It’s about having someone to lean on during the tough days, and someone to laugh with during the weird ones.
It’s about creating a life that isn’t perfect, but is entirely, unapologetically ours.
And honestly?
I wouldn’t trade this messy, real, growing version of love for anything else..