CHAPTER 38
ADITI
I stare at the door.
It's plain and brown and not at all intimidating. But right now, it feels like the gateway to everything I’ve been avoiding thinking about for the past five days.
Do I ring the bell?
Or do I turn around and go back home, pretend I was never here, and chalk it up to temporary madness brought on by ovulation and unresolved feelings?
God. I’m such a mess.
I shuffle my feet and blow out a breath, staring at the number plate on the door as if it’s going to give me an answer.
I didn’t tell him I was coming. He doesn’t even know I’m back in Mumbai. I could’ve called. I could’ve texted. But I didn’t. I just... showed up.
Because what do I even say?
“Hi, I’m here to find out ye rishta kya kehlata hai?”
I groan and press the heel of my palm against my forehead. Smooth, Aditi. Very smooth.
It’s not like I didn’t understand what he said in Jaipur.
When he looked at me and said I was the missing piece in his life, something inside me lit up and has been glowing ever since.
I squealed into my pillow like a lovesick idiot that night.
Maa got really worried; she thought the corporate world had made me insane.
But then he left the next morning. And I know it’s because he might have felt he was imposing, which he absolutely was not.
I loved having him there; seeing him play doctor with Rudrani has to be the highlight of this month.
Nonetheless, he still left, and we didn’t get time to discuss anything further.
So, now I have no definition of what this is between us.
I mean, we did text each other, but it’s VERY difficult to maintain a conversation over text when it comes to Abhimaan because this man only replies with one or two words.
I stayed back for another four days because Maa, Badi Maa, and honestly, Rudrani all emotionally manipulated me into staying. I mean, how do you say no when a five-year-old looks up at you with tears and says, ‘Bua, don’t go, please’?
You can’t. You physically cannot.
So, now I’m here. Outside his door. Probably looking like a lost delivery girl without a package.
I adjust my top a bit, which doesn’t need any adjusting; it’s perfectly fine. This top is too good for having just a simple conversation; it’s definitely date-worthy. Wait, do I have to ask him on a date?
Before I can convince myself to run away, the door swings open.
And there he is.
Abhimaan.
Standing barefoot in black sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his hair slightly messy like he ran his fingers through it a dozen times today. His arms—dear lord—his arms are on full display, and the fabric of the t-shirt stretches just a little too perfectly across his chest.
I forget how to breathe.
“Oh, hi. I—uh—I was just... I just arrived, and I was going to ring the bell,” I ramble, the words tripping over themselves like my brain lost the memo.
His mouth curves into a soft smile, and it almost knocks me off my feet. “You’re here,” he says simply. Like that’s enough. Like I’m enough.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.
I walk in slowly, eyes taking in everything like it’s all new again.
The familiar scent—clean laundry and something spicy—hits me first. Then the sight of the panda blanket folded neatly on the couch, the tiny cactus I bought because I thought he needed company still perched on the bookshelf, and the pink post-it note that says “Drink water, you dehydrated grump” still stuck to the fridge.
“I thought you’d thrown all this away,” I say with a shy chuckle, brushing my hand over the blanket.
He closes the door behind me. “I would never throw away something you gave me, Aditi.”
I turn toward him, heart skipping. There’s no flirtation in his tone, no teasing. Just... truth. Honest and soft.
He walks to the couch and sits, legs spread like always, one arm resting on the back casually. I stand there like an awkward mannequin, clutching the strap of my bag, wondering how to even begin.
“Would you like water?” he asks.
“No, I’m fine.” My voice is tight. Too tight.
A few seconds pass. I remain standing.
Then I start pacing.
“I know this is weird,” I begin, hands gesturing wildly, “me just showing up like this. And I know we didn’t really talk after.
.. you know... Jaipur. And I kept thinking maybe I should wait, maybe you’d call, or maybe I should just let it go, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I didn’t know where we stood.
And I’m okay not putting a label if that’s what you want, but I just—I need to know. ”
He watches me. Quiet. Still.
And because he won’t say anything, my nervousness spikes. I keep talking.
“Because it’s already complicated, right?
You’re my boss. Well, technically, kind of my boss.
Or are you considering that I resigned, but I haven’t given you the resignation letter, and you did not say anything about it, so I don’t know, and I didn’t call because I felt this is something we should talk about face-to-face, right?
I really wanted to talk, but I had to stay too because I’m weak and Rudrani is my entire heart, and I can’t say no to her.
But then I got back today, and I thought, ‘What if it was just a Jaipur thing?’ But I don’t want it to be just a Jaipur thing.
I don’t think it was. And I don’t know where you stand. I just...”
I don’t even realize he’s moved until I turn mid-rant and slam right into his chest.
His hands come up gently to steady me, one on my elbow, the other brushing my hair away from my face.
My breath catches. He’s so close. “Breathe, darling,” he says softly, his voice low and calm. He calls me Darling, and he wants me to brEATHE? Impossible.
I blink up at him, dazed. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“I know.” He smiles. “I like it.”
I blink again. “You do?”
He nods. “Keeps me grounded.”
That makes my heart skip. Again. He tilts his head, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, but what do you want?”
His words take the air out of my lungs.
Because no one’s ever asked me that before. Not like this. Not without conditions or expectations. Just... offering himself with a kind of quiet bravery that undoes me.
“I want what you want,” I whisper, barely able to speak.
He frowns slightly. “No. That’s not how this works. I know what I want. I want you. I want this. But I need to hear it from you.”
I feel like my heart is going to explode. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?” he teases gently, raising an eyebrow.
I take a breath. “Okay, then I want you to be my boyfriend.”
His eyes soften. A small smile curves his mouth. “Okay.”
I stare at him. “That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”
He chuckles. “Would you prefer I get on one knee with a bouquet?”
I grin. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Too late now,” he murmurs.
I laugh. And then—on impulse, driven by emotion and whatever chaotic hormone cocktail is swirling in my system—I lean in and kiss him.
He stills for a second, just a second—long enough for my breath to hitch, for doubt to whisper in the corner of my mind—but then his hand lifts, fingers brushing gently against the side of my face, anchoring me.
His lips move against mine slowly, with a kind of deliberate tenderness that makes the world blur around us.
It’s not rushed. Not the kind of kiss I thought it might be, full of heat and urgency and pent-up longing from all these weeks. It’s softer. Deeper. Like he’s pouring everything he doesn’t know how to say into the press of his mouth against mine.
And it’s nothing like I’ve imagined. It's better. Because it's real.
His other hand finds the small of my back, pulling me just a little closer. My hands—nervous and unsure—rest against his chest, fingers fisting the fabric of his t-shirt as if I need something to hold onto to remind myself this is happening. That I’m here. That he’s here.
I feel the warmth of him seep into me. I feel the steadiness of his heartbeat beneath my palm. I feel everything—too much, maybe—and yet not enough.
There’s a kind of reverence in the way he kisses me, like he’s been waiting for this moment for a long time and wants to get it exactly right. It melts something tight and fearful in me. The part that always expects someone to pull away. To leave. To love me in halves.
But he’s not pulling away.
His thumb brushes across my cheek, and he tilts his head just a little more, deepening the kiss by a fraction, but it’s enough to send a shiver down my spine.
My eyes flutter shut. The world falls away—the city noise outside, the scent of old books on the shelf, and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background.
It's just this.
Us.
His breath mingling with mine.
My skin is tingling from every point we touch.
When we finally part, it’s slow. Reluctant. His lips hover near mine for a moment like he doesn’t want to let go, and I know exactly how he feels because neither do I.
I open my eyes and find him looking at me the same way he did that night in Jaipur when I found him sick and shivering—like I’m something he’s afraid to break, something he never thought he could have.
I smile, a little dazed. “Wow.”
He laughs softly, forehead resting against mine. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t know someone could kiss like that,” I murmur, my voice hushed, almost reverent.
His smirk grows, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Neither did I.”
I breathe out a laugh, dizzy with warmth and affection. “Do you… want to try again?”
His answer is a smile, slow and certain.
And then he kisses me again.