•| TEN |•
“So it’s you!!”
Both of you spoke at the exact same time, voices colliding in equal parts shock and disbelief.
For a moment neither of you moved—just stared.
As if your brains were still trying to process the cruel coincidence fate had just thrown at you.
Krish was the first to react.
He shut his eyes briefly and let out a long, exhausted sigh before stepping back from you, putting a little distance between your bodies as if proximity itself was adding to his frustration.
“Great,” he muttered under his breath. “Just great.”
He ran a hand down his face, composing himself quickly before looking back at you—his expression returning to that familiar cold composure you had seen on the roadside.
“Listen here, kid,” he whispered firmly, lowering his voice so it wouldn’t travel outside the trial room. “I don’t want any drama right now. Not here. Not in front of them.” You swallowed, still slightly dazed.
“Just distract them for a minute so I can get out of here quietly.” You blinked, then nodded quickly.
“O…okay.” But as he turned slightly to leave—You hesitated.
“B-but… can you help me please?” you stuttered, voice small, fingers gripping the edge of your dupatta nervously.
He paused mid-step.
Slowly, he turned back toward you, one eyebrow lifting.
“Help?” he repeated.
Your cheeks warmed instantly under his gaze.
You awkwardly gestured behind you without meeting his eyes.
“M-my string…” Understanding dawned on his face as his eyes flickered briefly to your back.
A quiet sigh escaped him—half resignation, half irritation.
“This is ridiculous,” he murmured, though there was no real bite in his tone this time.
Still, he stepped closer.
You instinctively stilled as he approached, your heartbeat picking up pace for reasons you refused to analyze.
He bent slightly behind you, careful, controlled, maintaining as much distance as the cramped trial room allowed.
His fingers caught the loose strings of your dress.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
The silence felt louder than noise.
You could feel his presence behind you—warm, steady, unfamiliar.
His fingers moved slowly, threading the strings through the loops one by one.
Surprisingly gentle.
You stared straight at the mirror in front of you, watching his reflection instead of turning around.
His face was focused, brows slightly drawn as he worked.
Your stomach fluttered again—
That same strange ticklish feeling you had felt earlier.
You tightened your grip on the fabric unconsciously.
He noticed.
“Relax,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to let your dress fall.”
You flushed deeper but didn’t respond.
A few more seconds passed—
Then he pulled the final knot secure.
He cleared his throat lightly and stepped back immediately, restoring distance again.
“Done,” he said shortly. “Now go.”
You turned around slowly, adjusting your dupatta properly, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you both had been just moments ago.
For a brief second your eyes met again.
Awkward.
Charged with too many thoughts neither of you voiced.
A knock came again from outside.
“Samira beta? Is everything okay?” your mother’s voice called.
You quickly looked back at Krish.
He jerked his head slightly toward the exit side of the door.
Taking a small breath, you gathered yourself and reached for the door—
You slowly pushed the door open, your fingers trembling slightly against the polished wood as if even the smallest sound might draw attention to the chaos still racing inside your chest. Taking a careful step forward, you slipped out of the room, the heavy fabric of your gown brushing softly against the floor with every movement.
The moment you appeared, your mother’s eyes lit up instantly, her entire face softening with relief and admiration as she took you in from head to toe.
“This is perfect…” she breathed out, her voice thick with emotion as she walked toward you, her gaze lingering on every detail of your bridal gown — the delicate embroidery, the graceful fall of the veil, the way the color made your skin glow.
Before you could even respond, she pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you tightly as if she wanted to memorize this very moment forever.
You could feel her hands gently patting your back, her joy almost overwhelming.
A few steps away, Mrs. Mehra stood watching the scene unfold, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, lips curved into a deeply satisfied smile. She clasped her hands together near her chest, her gaze fixed on you with a mixture of pride and possessiveness that made your stomach twist slightly.
“Perfect bride for my son…” she murmured under her breath, though it was loud enough for you to catch.
The words weren’t cruel — they were affectionate — but they carried a weight that made your smile turn stiff, awkward.
You nodded politely, trying to appear composed, though inside your thoughts were spiraling somewhere else entirely.
And then it hit you.
Krish.
Your eyes widened in horror as the realization slammed into you — he was still inside. If anyone walked in… if he got caught… if this entire situation exploded right now —
“Shit!! Mom, what’s that!!” you suddenly blurted out loudly, your voice sharp enough to slice through the emotional atmosphere like glass shattering.
Both your mother and Mrs. Mehra flinched at your outburst, immediately turning their heads in the direction you pointed your finger. Your hand was slightly shaking as you gestured toward the far end of the hallway, praying they wouldn’t question the randomness of your panic.
Their attention shifted completely away from you, brows furrowing in confusion as they tried to figure out what you were seeing. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs, breath shallow, as you silently begged Krish to understand the distraction… and get out before everything fell apart.
“What?” your mom asked, her brows knitting together as she continued staring in the direction you had pointed, trying to locate whatever had startled you so suddenly.
Her tone carried a mix of concern and confusion, and beside her, Mrs. Mehra also leaned slightly forward, squinting her eyes as if that might help her see better.
“There… see nicely,” you insisted quickly, your voice rushing out as you gestured again, this time moving your hand a little more dramatically to make the distraction believable.
“Near that corner… I think something moved.” You added the last part in a hushed tone, as though it was something serious enough to demand their full attention.
And that was all the opening Krish needed.
The trial room door behind you creaked ever so slightly as it opened again — but no one noticed except you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him slip out swiftly, his movements quick yet calculated.
He didn’t run recklessly; he moved like someone used to escaping unnoticed.
Still, there was urgency in his steps as he hurried across the floor, keeping low and blending with the movement of the staff.
Within seconds, he reached the large pala — the long wardrobe rack where rows and rows of heavy dresses hung, layered so thickly that they formed almost a curtain of fabric.
Without wasting time, he slid himself between the garments, pushing aside lehengas and gowns until he was completely hidden within the cascade of cloth.
From the outside, it looked like nothing had moved at all.
The moment you saw the last glimpse of him disappear safely between the dresses, your shoulders dropped slightly as the breath you’d been holding escaped your lips.
“Thank God…” you exhaled under your breath, so softly that no one heard — or so you hoped.
“There’s nothing!” your mom suddenly said a little louder, straightening up as she turned back toward you, mild irritation replacing her earlier concern. “What were you even looking at?”
You blinked, quickly rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment, forcing out an awkward laugh to cover your nerves.
“Maybe… it was my hallucination,” you muttered sheepishly, avoiding direct eye contact. “I thought I saw something move but… I guess not.”
Both your mom and Mrs. Mehra exchanged a look — the kind that silently said bride nerves — before shaking their heads in disbelief.
“You’re already imagining things,” your mom sighed, though there was a fond smile tugging at her lips. “Wedding stress has started, hmm?”
You gave a small, guilty smile, still trying to steady your breathing.
“Leave it,” Mrs. Mehra cut in gently, waving her hand dismissively as she stepped closer to you again, her earlier excitement returning full force.
Her eyes once again scanned your gown with approval, pride evident in every expression she made.
“Just look at this dress properly… I think we should finalize this one.”
She adjusted the dupatta slightly on your shoulder, admiring how it fell.
“It suits you perfectly,” she added warmly. “Exactly how I imagined my daughter-in-law would look.”
You nodded politely.
---
Krish, who was still squeezed awkwardly between layers of heavy embroidered gowns and sequined lehengas, was trying his best not to sneeze — the fabric dust and strong perfume of new clothes tickling his nose mercilessly.
He had just begun to think he was safe when suddenly — pat!
— a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.
He flinched so hard that the hangers around him rattled loudly.
“Ahh— oh— umm… hi,” he stammered, popping his head out from between the dresses like a caught thief, forcing an extremely awkward smile that did not reach his eyes.
The seller woman stood there, blinking at him in mild confusion but maintaining her professional politeness. She gave him a warm, practiced smile — the kind retail workers perfected over years.
“Umm hello, sir… you need something?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head slightly. “Are you looking for sherwanis? Groom section is on the other side.”
Krish immediately cleared his throat, straightening his posture as if he had been standing there with full dignity all along and not hiding like a fugitive. He dusted imaginary lint off his sleeve.
“No— no,” he said quickly, waving his hand. “I came with them.”
He gestured vaguely in your direction without even looking, desperate to exit the situation before she asked any follow-up questions — like why he had been hiding inside women’s bridal wear.
The seller opened her mouth to speak again, but Krish had already slipped past her, walking briskly — almost too briskly — toward where you, your mom, and his mom were standing.
You noticed him first.
Your eyes widened slightly, but you controlled your expression just in time.
He, on the other hand, decided subtlety was overrated.
“Mom!” he suddenly spoke up, his voice loud enough to make all three of you turn.
Mrs. Mehra blinked in complete surprise, clearly not expecting her son to materialize out of nowhere.
“Krish? When did you come?” she asked, her brows lifting. Then, before he could even answer, her excitement returned. “Leave it… come, come. Meet Samira and her mom properly.”
Krish nodded politely, switching into his well-trained good son persona within seconds. He stepped forward and bent slightly, touching your mom’s feet respectfully.
Your mom’s face lit up instantly.
“Jeete raho, beta,” she blessed warmly, placing her hand on his head. Then she looked at Mrs. Mehra with visible delight. “Your son is too handsome… I’m very happy that he’s going to be my son-in-law.”
You, standing beside them, rolled your eyes so subtly yet so dramatically that if eye-rolling were an Olympic sport, you’d win gold.
Krish noticed.
Of course he noticed.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips — the kind only you could see.
“Thank you, aunty,” he replied politely, though there was a playful glint in his eyes as he briefly glanced at you — almost as if silently saying, Old uncle, huh?
You glared back, equally silently replying, Dumbo.
“Samira,” Mrs. Mehra called gently, breaking your glare war. “Go change, okay? We’ll go have dinner now.”
Her tone was affectionate, excited — already carrying the warmth of someone who had begun imagining you as family.
You nodded quickly. “Okay.”
As you turned to leave, you leaned ever so slightly toward Krish while passing him and muttered under your breath —
“Next time hide better.”
He didn’t even look at you when he whispered back —
“Next time don’t kidnap strangers into trial rooms.”
You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing as you walked away, clutching your gown slightly, while behind you both mothers had already started discussing dinner plans — blissfully unaware of the chaotic mini-adventure that had just unfolded five minutes ago between their soon-to-be children.