3 - Vaani
The soft hum of water echoed behind the closed bathroom door as steam curled into the air, clouding the mirror gently.
Morning sunlight filtered through the linen curtains of Vaani's bedroom, casting golden stripes across the pale peach walls.
The scent of her floral shampoo clung faintly to the air, mingling with the citrus tones of her body mist.
Vaani stood wrapped in a towel, her skin glowing from the warm shower. Her long, dark brown hair - now damp and glossy - fell in waves down her back, brushing just past her mid-back. She ran her fingers through the strands, taming them gently as she moved to the dressing table.
Her reflection looked calm, but beneath the quiet was the residue of last night - Dhruv Deshmukh's steady gaze, his blunt honesty, the weight of his words.
He hadn't tried to charm her. There were no soft-spoken flirtations or unnecessary smiles.
Just plain facts - the kind that most people saved for later.
He wasn't performing. And oddly enough, that sat well with her.
She dressed slowly, thoughtfully. A soft ivory kurta hugged her hourglass figure just enough to complement her curves without being loud.
The high collar was embroidered with delicate threadwork, almost invisible unless one looked closely.
The sleeves were rolled just above her wrists, and her light blue jeans added a soft pop of color - understated, but clean.
Her complexion, fair and flushed from the warmth of the shower, needed nothing more than a light stroke of kajal and a dab of lip tint.
She wore small silver hoops in her ears and tied a small knot at the crown of her head, letting the rest of her hair fall free.
A thin gold bracelet hugged her wrist - a graduation gift from her father she wore almost every day.
At 5'5", Vaani carried herself with a blend of confidence and gentleness - a woman used to working in silence, creating beauty without calling for attention.
By the time she descended the stairs, the house was already buzzing with small morning rituals. The TV in the living room murmured a low news bulletin, and the clinking of spoons against steel cups came from the kitchen.
She walked barefoot to the dining table, the tiled floor cool against her feet, and sat down. Her mother handed her a steaming cup of adrak chai as her father folded his newspaper and set it aside.
"Going in early today?" Ramesh Joshi asked, sipping from his own cup, still warm from the kettle.
Vaani nodded, holding the rim of the glass cup close to her lips. "Just a little. Kavya wants to check final fittings before the walkthrough."
Her mother Sunita walked in, wiping her hands on the end of her pallu. "Your schedule will only get tighter now, beta. I hope you're not taking on more than you can handle."
"I'm fine, Aai." Vaani smiled gently. "I wrapped up the hotel lobby project last week, remember?"
Ramesh leaned forward a little, the corners of his mouth curving upward with fatherly curiosity. "So..." he began, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. "What did you think of him? Dhruv?"
Sunita's ears perked immediately. She looked up from the small bowl of fruit she was peeling. "Yes, tell us. You barely said anything last night. We saw you two talking. He seemed respectful."
Vaani took a sip of her chai before responding. "He's alright."
Her voice was quiet. Noncommittal.
"Alright?" her father echoed, eyebrows raising. "That's it?"
Sunita laughed softly, not unkindly. "Come on, Vaani. You don't usually say 'alright' unless you mean 'I'm still thinking.'"
Vaani gave a half-smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't really know him yet. He told me some things... about his work, how late he gets sometimes, that he's not very expressive."
Her parents nodded, listening.
"But he was honest. I appreciated that." She glanced at her father, then back into her cup.
Ramesh leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "That's a good sign. Better than someone who sugarcoats things, no?"
"He said I could keep working," she added softly, almost as an afterthought.
Sunita's eyes brightened a little. "That's important."
Vaani nodded, her shoulders relaxing just a little. "He didn't make it sound like a favor. Just... normal. Like he expected it."
"That's the way it should be," Ramesh said, pleased.
"But I still don't know much else," Vaani said honestly. "He's hard to read."
Sunita smiled knowingly. "That will change. You'll learn in small ways. Give it time."
Vaani didn't reply. She wasn't in a rush to define what this was or what it could be. There was a strange stillness about Dhruv that didn't feel cold - more like a closed door she'd been invited to walk past, only if she chose to. And she appreciated that.
She finished her tea, set the cup down, and stood. "I'll be back by six."
Ramesh nodded. "Text your brother if you need anything dropped off."
Sunita stood to adjust the sleeves of her daughter's kurta like she always did, smoothing the fabric as if Vaani were still five. "Eat something mid-day. You always forget."
Vaani smiled, kissed her mother's cheek, and walked toward the door with her laptop bag in hand. She paused at the mirror, adjusted the bindi between her brows, and stepped out into the warm Dubai sun.
Today was like any other day - except that everything was different now, in quiet, subtle ways.
The office was already alive with motion when Vaani stepped through the glass doors of NestForm Studio.
The space had its own pulse - a clean, modern design softened by warm neutrals and greenery in hanging planters.
The scent of wood polish, fresh-cut flowers, and freshly brewed espresso mingled in the air, familiar and grounding.
She walked in. A tan satchel hung from her shoulder, her sketchbook pressed against her side.
Her hair was pinned back loosely, still damp at the ends from her morning shower. She looked simple, elegant - every inch the quiet professional she'd trained herself to be.
"Look who's finally waltzing in with that newly-engaged glow," came a teasing voice.
Vaani turned to find Kavya - her closest friend and the studio's lead material designer - grinning as she walked over, sipping on an iced Americano.
"You're late," Kavya added, though her tone held no real annoyance.
"I'm five minutes early," Vaani replied with a soft smile.
"Exactly," Kavya said, raising an eyebrow. "You're never five minutes early. You're always twenty minutes early. What, was he that handsome?"
Vaani walked past her toward their shared desk space and set her things down calmly. "We just had dinner."
"Oh come on," Kavya followed, perching on the edge of her own desk, arms crossed. "You met your fiancé and you're giving me dinner? I need adjectives. Full sentences. Was he weird? Boring? Charming?"
"He was fine," Vaani said, sitting down and opening her laptop. "Quiet. Blunt."
Kavya leaned forward. "Ugh, blunt how?"
"He told me he gets home late. That he's not the romantic type. That he doesn't expect me to be either."
"That's a bit clinical."
"It wasn't," Vaani replied, thoughtful. "It was honest."
Kavya tilted her head. "Do you like honest?"
"I think I do," Vaani said, clicking through a few design files. "I didn't feel like I had to impress him. Or pretend I was someone I'm not."
Kavya squinted. "Wait. You do like him."
"I don't know him," Vaani answered honestly. "But he didn't say anything I disagreed with."
"Did he compliment you at all?"
"No."
Kavya gasped. "Not even a you look nice tonight?"
Vaani shook her head. "He just said hello."
Kavya stared at her, dramatically stunned. "Girl, I would've walked out."
"No, you wouldn't," Vaani replied dryly, smiling despite herself.
Kavya sighed, flopping back in her chair. "So he's tall, silent, blunt, responsible. I hate that it's working for me."
Vaani chuckled under her breath and went back to her files. "Can we please talk about the Trident project instead?"
"Sure," Kavya said, turning her attention to the samples on her desk. "But don't think this is over. I'm going to ask again at lunch."
The morning unfolded smoothly - a site visit scheduled for the next week, some layout revisions for the hotel reception area, and a video call with a client in Sharjah who wanted softer lighting plans.
Vaani slipped into work like water finding its way into a familiar groove.
Her hands were in her element - sketching, arranging, editing.
Vaani worked with a quiet intensity that often filled the space around her.
She didn't raise her voice, didn't walk too fast, didn't speak just to be heard - but people noticed when she entered a room.
Her desk was rarely cluttered, except for the deliberate chaos of rolled-up blueprints, Pantone strips, fabric swatches, and open sketchpads.
Mid-morning sunlight streamed through the blinds as she leaned over her workspace, fine-tuning a 3D rendering on her monitor.
The lines were precise, her color palette muted but warm - pale wood, brushed gold, and a touch of sage green.
A calm, curated aesthetic. Her pencil rested on the back of her ear, a habit she picked up during college and never dropped.
She worked quickly but meticulously - zooming into every corner of the mock-up, checking the flow of space and lighting distribution.
Her trained eye picked up the smallest inconsistencies - a curtain falling too close to a corner, a rug that threw off visual balance, the metal finish on a wall light that clashed with the faucet.
She wasn't the kind to go with just what looked pretty - she believed design had to feel lived in, intuitive.
Her clients didn't always know how to say what they wanted, but Vaani always managed to make their homes feel like them.
Just past noon, her boss - Meheran Shah, a respected name in the Dubai design circuit - walked past the open office floor and paused near her desk. He was in his mid-forties, always well-dressed, always moving fast.
"Is that the Al Quoz villa layout?" he asked, gesturing toward her screen.
Vaani nodded and rotated the monitor slightly so he could get a better view.
He leaned in. "This is clean. I like the restraint here... Good choice on eliminating that extra paneling. It would've made the living space too boxed in."
"I thought so too," Vaani replied softly.
Meheran tapped the desk lightly. "Good instincts. You always know when to subtract - not many designers have that. Everyone's too obsessed with over-detailing lately."
Vaani gave a small smile.
"I'm looping you into the hotel renovation briefing next week," he added. "Client from Singapore. He specifically asked for a 'quiet' design sensibility. I immediately thought of you."
She blinked, surprised. "Oh. Thank you."
He waved it off. "Just keep doing what you do. Your work speaks."
As he walked off, Vaani sat back slightly, taking a breath. Compliments weren't what she worked for - but being seen, especially in a space as competitive as high-end design, meant something. It wasn't about praise. It was about being trusted to shape someone's space, their everyday.
She stood a moment later to pin her latest sketch - a soft living room concept - onto the feedback board.
A few of the junior designers passed by and glanced at it.
One of them, Arsh, smiled as he turned to his teammate.
"How does she make every single moodboard feel like an actual room you'd want to live in? "
Vaani heard him. She didn't respond. She didn't need to.
She adjusted a few pinned samples, and headed to the materials library to prep for her next pitch - focus returning, like it always did, sharp and steady.
After wrapping up her design revisions and sending off the updated render to the client's inbox, Vaani checked her planner - the crisp pages neatly filled with dates, deadlines, and sticky notes in her careful handwriting.
Her fingers paused on one date in particular.
She exhaled lightly, tucking the planner into her satchel, and made her way toward the HR cabin.
The corridor beyond the main studio floor was quiet, lined with soft beige panels and framed typography prints.
A gentle knock on the frosted glass door, and she was greeted by the warm voice of Mr. Feroze, the studio's long-standing HR head.
"Vaani," he smiled, looking up from his desktop. "Come in."
She stepped inside, gently pulling the door closed behind her.
"I just needed to check in about leave," she said, standing politely near his desk. "From the 30th of January till the 7th of February - if that works?"
He adjusted his glasses, opening the calendar on his screen. "That's about a week and some change... Any particular reason?" he asked, curious but kind.
She nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I'm getting married."
There was a pause - not of surprise, but of pleasant recognition.
"Well, that explains the glow," he said warmly, standing up to offer a handshake. "Congratulations, Vaani! That's wonderful news."
"Thank you," she said quietly, shaking his hand, her bangles lightly chiming against her wrist.
"Any ceremonies happening in Dubai? Or is it back in India?"
"In India," she replied. "Our families insist on a big wedding."
He nodded, tapping a few keys to block out the dates. "Your projects are already ahead of schedule, so it shouldn't be a problem. I'll make a note and let admin know."
She gave a soft, grateful smile. "I'll make sure the Trident site plan is wrapped before I leave."
"I don't doubt it," he chuckled. "And don't think about work while you're off. That's an order."
She let out a breath of laughter. "I'll try."
As she walked out, the reality sank in a little deeper.
It wasn't nerves. Not quite. But something about saying the words aloud - I'm getting married - made it feel more real than it had the night before.
Not a fantasy, not a possibility, but something with a date and a dress and a ring and a name that wasn't just her own anymore.
Vaani tucked her hair behind her ear, walked back to her desk, and opened her inbox like any other day.
But her fingers lingered on the keyboard.
One week from now, everything would begin to change. And she wasn't sure if the quiet steadiness she'd built around herself would hold - or if it would have to become something entirely new.
~·~
The soft hum of the city had begun to settle outside as the sun dipped lower, casting a golden haze across the living room tiles.
Vaani pushed the front door open, her satchel sliding off her shoulder the moment she stepped in.
She was early - just a little past 4 - something that rarely happened on weekdays.
But she had wrapped up her work faster than expected and felt an odd craving for the comfort of home before the chaos of wedding preparations began in full swing.
Her hair was loose, a little messy from the day, and she had changed into a soft cotton tee and grey pajamas - the kind only meant for home, with little faded stars on the hem that had survived too many washes. She liked them best.
The kitchen was warm, sun spilling onto the granite counter. She filled the kettle with water, humming softly to herself as she dropped in cardamom pods, crushed ginger, and spooned loose tea into the pot. A familiar rhythm. The smell alone began to settle her bones.
Just as the tea was beginning to boil, she heard the tell-tale thud of a backpack landing on the floor and a voice call out, "Tai! Make one more cup na, please."
She didn't even have to look. "Hi, Vihaan. You better not have come home without finishing practice."
Vihaan walked into the kitchen, grinning sheepishly, his sports jacket half hanging off his shoulder, hair still damp from his shower. "Coach let us go early. It's too hot today."
"Excuses," she said, amused, adjusting the flame under the utensil. "Fine. One more cup."
Just then, Vedant's voice floated in from the hallway. "Make that three! I just finished my application essay! I deserve chai."
Vaani turned her head as her youngest brother padded in, already in shorts and a loose tee, holding his laptop in one hand. He looked excited, that barely-contained spark in his eyes that only meant one thing.
"You finished the personal statement?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah! Finally. I emailed it to that professor at King's College. You know, the one who told me he'd take a look. I think it's solid now."
"Wait," Vihaan piped in, grabbing three cups from the shelf, "you're applying to King's now? You said Durham last week!"
"I'm applying to both, you donkey," Vedant rolled his eyes as he leaned against the fridge. "King's is still my top choice. Imagine-London life. River Thames. The British Museum. Night buses and old libraries. Can't wait."
"Vedant, don't call your Dada a donkey," Vaani smiled as she poured the tea, the steam curling into the fading sunlight. She slid the first cup toward Vihaan, who was already rifling through the biscuit tin.
"And I hope you're as excited about paying rent in pounds as you are about the River Thames," she teased.
Vedant waved a dismissive hand. "Baba said we'll manage. And I might get that research assistantship if I do well in the first semester. Fingers crossed."
The three of them made their way to the balcony, where the white metal table caught the last light of the day.
They sat in a triangle - Vaani curled into her chair with her knees up, Vihaan already dipping a biscuit into his chai, and Vedant animatedly pulling up something on his phone about university societies.
"So, tell me again what you're applying for?" Vaani asked, blowing gently on her cup.
"Politics and International Relations," Vedant said with a grin. "I want to work with policy research or maybe diplomatic stuff. Who knows? Maybe even end up in Geneva one day."
"You always did love long arguments," Vihaan muttered with a smirk.
"Says the guy who debates with Aai about paratha fillings."
Vaani laughed softly, shaking her head. "You both are impossible."
"Tai," Vihaan cut in, more serious now. "You think it's weird I'm doing computer science even though I hate math?"
She tilted her head, thoughtful. "I think... you like developing things. You've always liked fixing stuff around the house and suggesting technological solutions for everything. Maybe you don't hate math - maybe you just haven't found the right way to use it yet."
Vihaan looked a little relieved, nodding slowly. "My assignment's due tomorrow. I've barely started."
Vedant scoffed. "You'll pull an all-nighter and still get an A. You're such a genius-in-hiding type."
"I wish," Vihaan muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward anyway.
Vaani looked at both of them - one dreaming of debating in London halls, the other quietly hoping to survive computer science - and felt an ache she hadn't expected.
They were growing up. She was getting married.
Everything was shifting. But here, right now, under the soft buzz of the AC and with chai in hand, they were still the same - three siblings sharing warm tea, teasing each other, talking about futures that hadn't yet unfolded.
And for a moment, everything felt... simple.
??