Rohan stood awkwardly in the kitchen, surrounded by the sweet chaos of his new life. Jasmine, his wife, a whirlwind of colorful scarves and laughter, rummaged through the cabinets. Married, just a week ago, arranged by their families. Rohan, a bookish introvert, knew more about dragons than dating.

"Where's the—" Jasmine stopped, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. "The… spice thingy?"

Rohan blinked. "Spice thingy?" His world revolved around neatly labeled jars.

"The red powder, for the curry!" Jasmine exclaimed, exasperated.

Rohan shuffled, feeling a familiar heat creep up his neck. "Uh, maybe Ma used it all?"

Jasmine sighed, a sound both adorable and slightly infuriating. "Fine. I'll ask her."

Later, lying in bed, Rohan watched Jasmine sleep, moonlight tracing soft curves on her face. He liked her, that much he knew. But navigating this new world of shared meals, tangled emotions, and spice thingies... it was like deciphering an ancient text.

Taking a deep breath, Rohan reached out and tentatively brushed a strand of hair from Jasmine's face. She stirred, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Maybe," Rohan whispered, "we could figure it out together?"

Jasmine opened her eyes, a flicker of understanding in them. In that quiet moment, amidst the unfamiliarity, a spark of connection ignited. Maybe, Rohan thought, with a newfound hope, love wasn't a book he needed to read alone. Maybe, it was a story they could write together, one spice thingy at a time.