One night left as a bachelorette. One scroll full of you.
Built by the guy who's counting down to December 2nd.
The red suit. The saree drama. The oversized jeans. The bridal glow. Somehow it's always you, and somehow it's never enough photos.
After tomorrow, every birthday wish legally requires my approval first. New management starting Dec 2.
This is your last birthday where "I'll think about it" is still a valid answer to anything I ask.
Enjoy bachelorette privileges tonight β by tomorrow night, you're someone's whole universe. Mine, specifically.
Every single one of those days, I'd still pick you, every time, no negotiation.
Today you turn 26, and somewhere between the red suit and the gold lehenga, you turned into my favourite person to annoy, adore, and argue with about dinner plans.
Wear the birthday crown tonight. On December 2nd, I'm gonna fill the Sindurβ and make you my wife. Best deal I've ever made.
β the man counting sleeps until Dec 2