14
It had been a few days since the site work had officially begun at Dhruv's Abu Dhabi office.
The once sterile, concrete shell of a space was slowly transforming, the early stages of color and contour now emerging under Vaani's sharp eye.
Dhruv hadn't been back to Abu Dhabi since the day of the first walkthrough - meetings in Dubai and back-to-back investor presentations had consumed most of his schedule - but that didn't stop the updates from flooding in.
Mark, ever prompt and detail-oriented, had taken to sending Dhruv daily recaps.
Sometimes it was a quick voice note on WhatsApp, sometimes a stream of photos showing progress - the new matte black panels being fitted in the reception, the lighting sample board, a short clip of Vaani directing carpenters to reposition a divider by exactly three inches.
But today, the update was different. Mark had sent over a clip of the small conference room - still half-finished - where Vaani stood in front of a full printed design map, walking the floor supervisor and two team members through the upcoming stages.
Her tone was calm but clear, assertive without being rigid.
She spoke with her hands as much as with her voice, occasionally pausing to answer questions, and then returning to her original point without losing rhythm.
"She's really good, Sir," Mark had texted under the video. "You picked the right team. She knows what she's doing."
Dhruv hadn't replied right away. He just stared at the video on his phone, thumb hovering over the replay button.
He watched it twice. Maybe a third time.
The way she moved - structured but fluid - showed him a version of Vaani he hadn't fully grasped yet.
Not the quiet, cautious woman who sat across from him at the dining table with polite silences.
Not the version dressed in her home clothes, curled up on their living room couch with her laptop and dozens of paper sketches. This was different.
She belonged here.
That realization didn't bring a smile. It didn't soften him.
Instead, it sat heavily on his chest, like a weight of guilt he hadn't agreed to carry.
He had kept his distance. He had set the tone.
He had drawn the lines, and now she had adjusted her steps to walk within them, gracefully, wordlessly, without asking for more.
And yet... here she was, building his office - quite literally.
Later that evening, Mark called.
"She's a perfectionist," he said with a chuckle. "I swear she made them redo the paint line along the hallway because the finish wasn't clean enough. And you should've seen her take on the vendor today. He tried to upsell a subpar material - she quoted specs back at him until he gave in."
Dhruv was silent on the other end, letting the description unfold.
"And the best part? She doesn't try to prove a point. She just gets the work done. No drama, no ego. Honestly... you got lucky with this one."
Dhruv exhaled slowly. "Yeah," he said under his breath, unsure whether Mark had heard him.
The next morning, another update came in - this time just pictures. A beautifully minimal mock-up of the lobby wall: grey limestone panels layered in a geometric pattern, subtly backlit with warm LEDs. A note below the photo said:
"This is her idea. We just finalized it today. Will begin fitting tomorrow."
Dhruv looked at the photo for longer than he needed to. It was elegant. Striking but not loud. Just like her.
For a second, he thought about texting her. Just a quick "Looks great" - nothing major. But he didn't. He shut his phone, leaned back in his chair, and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window of his own Dubai office.
The irony wasn't lost on him - that the person he shared a home with felt more distant than the work she was doing for his company. That he had access to her brilliance only through forwarded messages and video clips. That someone else - Mark - was closer to her right now than he was.
And maybe, deep down, he didn't like that.
Not because of control. But because of something he couldn't yet name. Something that stirred when he saw her voice carry across a room. Something that pulled a thread inside his chest when she walked through spaces he had built - or was building - as though they belonged to her, too.
Because maybe, they did.
And maybe, it was time he showed up - not as the boss, not even as the client.
But as her husband.
Whatever that meant. Whatever that could still mean.
~·~
The key turned in the lock, and Vaani pushed the door open with one shoulder, kicking her heels off as she stepped in. The soft hum of the TV echoed through the hallway, followed by the familiar voice of a cricket commentator in the background.
Dhruv was home.
That in itself was surprising.
He was lounging on the couch in his track pants and a white tee, a glass of water in his hand as he flipped channels mindlessly. The second she entered, he looked up and said, "Hello."
"Hi," she replied, her voice light but distant.
Without another word, she walked past him into the bedroom.
She emerged a few minutes later, dressed in an oversized tee and soft cotton pyjamas, her hair tied up messily, makeup gone, a soft perfume following her as she padded barefoot into the kitchen.
She was just pulling out the container of sabzi when the doorbell rang again.
A quick glance toward Dhruv told her he hadn't moved. She dusted her hands on the kitchen towel and walked over to open the door.
It was Aarav.
"Oh, hi!" she said, surprised.
"Hey," he grinned, effortlessly casual as always, and leaned in for a side hug. She hugged back briefly, and then he stepped inside, brushing past her and flopping onto the couch like he belonged there.
Dhruv's eyes followed the gesture silently, watching as Aarav casually threw one arm over the back of the couch and kicked off his shoes with a soft grunt.
"Yo, bhai! What's up?" Aarav said, giving Dhruv a nod.
"All good," Dhruv replied neutrally. He wasn't sure what he felt exactly, but there was something in the pit of his stomach that shifted at the way Aarav had just hugged Vaani - easy, familiar, like it was routine.
Aarav and Dhruv fell into basic conversation, mostly about the cricket match, some common friends from college, nothing heavy. Dhruv still didn't know why his eyes kept drifting to the kitchen, where Vaani was heating something in the microwave - her dinner, presumably.
He got up midway, his phone buzzing insistently. "Give me a minute, I've got a call," he said, walking into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
Aarav, left alone in the living room, called out, "Yo, Vaani! Is there anything to eat? I'm starving, hadn't had lunch either."
She was just about to serve herself - rice already in her plate, the dal warm, a little salad on the side. But she froze for a split second, spoon mid-air. Something inside her twisted - tiredness, maybe, or that tiny disappointment she was used to swallowing by now.
But she smiled anyway and called out, "Yes, of course. Coming."
I can eat later, it's not nice to leave a guest hungry. She thought to herself.
She scraped the rice from her plate into a fresh one, added more curry, warmed it all again, and brought it out to him on a tray. "Here," she said softly.
Aarav took it with a grin. "You're a lifesaver. Thanks, dude."
She nodded, her smile polite, and then went back to the kitchen. There was hardly anything left now. She decided she'd eat later. Maybe not at all.
Instead, she walked back into the living room and sat down at the far end of the couch, her knees pulled up, arms wrapped loosely around them. Her eyes were on the TV, but her mind wasn't.
Aarav looked over, his mouth half full. "You ate already?"
She blinked once, then nodded. "Don't worry. I'm good."
He shrugged and went back to eating. Vaani just leaned her head slightly to the side, focusing on the game.
Dhruv came out ten minutes later, phone in hand, and saw the two of them sitting there.
Aarav now had his plate balanced on the armrest, still watching the match intently, and Vaani looked like she was barely present.
He walked back to the kitchen and noticed her plate wasn't there. Neither were any dishes in the sink. A small crease formed between his brows.
He returned to the couch, leaning against the wall behind them. "You ate?"
She glanced up and gave a polite half-smile. "I'll eat later. It's fine."
He didn't say anything. Just nodded once and sat down again, only this time, something in his chest felt tighter than it had when Aarav hugged her.
Aarav, blissfully unaware, leaned forward and cheered at something on the screen.
45 minutes passed. Vaani leaned back further into the couch, her face angled away from both of them. The soft light from the television flickered over her expression, unreadable.
Aarav balanced the nearly empty plate on his lap, using the last bit of roti to mop up the curry as he spoke with animated excitement.
"I'm telling you, that six in the last over? That was just insane. Vintage finish," he said between bites, gesturing toward the TV where the replays were still running.
Dhruv sat beside him, his chai cup cradled in one hand, eyes half on the screen and half drifting elsewhere.
The rich scent of masala chai lingered in the room too - the one Vaani had quietly made for all three of them earlier.
She sat quietly in the single armchair by the side, her own cup in her hands, barely sipping.
She hadn't said a word since returning from the kitchen.
Her silence had gone unnoticed by Aarav, who was in his usual laid-back groove. But Dhruv noticed.
She wasn't sulking. She wasn't withdrawn.
She was... reserved.
Scared, maybe?
The distance between them had become its own quiet third presence in the room.
Aarav was too deep into cricket commentary to notice the tension. "By the way, who is that new guy in the Indian team?" he asked, pointing toward the screen as another slow-motion close-up played. "He came in at number four... umm, what's his name again?"
He turned to Dhruv, who shrugged lazily. "Some new domestic pick. I didn't catch the full commentary."
"Yaar, it's on the tip of my tongue."
They both frowned at the screen, trying to place the name.
From across the room, Vaani's voice came, clear and certain.
"Rohan Bhatia."
Both men turned to her in unison, surprised. Aarav blinked. Dhruv looked up slowly from his chai.
"Who?" Aarav asked.
"Rohan Bhatia," she repeated. "He played for Mumbai in the Ranji Trophy. He's been consistently good for the last two seasons. He's known for playing spin really well, especially in middle overs. They're grooming him as a backup for the World Cup squad, depending on how he performs in these T20s."
There was a moment of complete silence.
Aarav stared, then gave a short incredulous laugh. "Damn, okay, stats and all."
Dhruv, still holding his chai cup mid-air, looked at her with faint amusement and something else - surprise tinged with intrigue.
Vaani smiled a little at their stunned expressions. "Girls watch cricket too, you know."
Aarav put a hand up in mock surrender. "Touché. I didn't mean it like that. I'm glad you do, though. Now Dhruv has a cricket companion too, finally."
She chuckled, the sound soft, not quite confident. "Yeah, well... I have two brothers. Match days were warzones in our house."
Dhruv leaned slightly back, his gaze still resting on her, something flickering in his eyes.
She hadn't spoken much since the day Aarav arrived. And the last few weeks had been a rhythm of polite greetings, quiet evenings, and almost no direct conversation. But this-this quick, confident interjection into a space she'd so far stayed away from-shifted something.
"You follow domestic cricket too?" he asked suddenly, his voice more curious than accusatory.
Vaani met his eyes, then nodded. "Used to. I still check match reports sometimes. My brothers are obsessed - and I always liked keeping up. Something about the energy of the game."
He nodded slowly, then took a sip of his chai. "Not bad."
The compliment was casual but real.
She felt her ears warm at the attention, unsure what to say next. She wasn't used to him looking at her that long. She hadn't even expected this conversation. But now that it was happening, it wasn't... unpleasant.
Aarav gave a low whistle. "Bro, she's got stats and match history-this is serious."
Vaani laughed now, finally relaxing. "Don't be dramatic. It's just a hobby."
"Well, I'll never argue with anyone who can explain India's lower middle-order dynamics," Aarav grinned, taking another sip of the chai she made. "By the way, your chai? God-level."
"Thanks," she said softly, meeting his gratitude with a small nod.
Dhruv didn't say anything about the chai, but he did take another slow sip, eyes trained on the screen now, but his thoughts were trailing behind.
She didn't just know design.
She knew cricket.
And the way she spoke - confidently, but never arrogantly - left him wondering what else he didn't know about her.
He glanced at her once more, not saying anything. But this time, his gaze lingered just a little longer than usual.
She caught it from the corner of her eye. She didn't look back.
But she smiled to herself, just a little.
The tension in the room was still there - but now it had a new color. Not silence. Not discomfort.
Aarav leaned back on the couch, finally done with his plate. The match had slowed into commentary analysis now, but the conversation was still lively.
"By the way," Aarav said, wiping his hands on a tissue, "what IPL teams are you and your brothers into?"
Vaani sipped her now-lukewarm chai, smiling faintly. "Vedant is a die-hard RCB fan. Vihaan is MI."
"And you?"
"KKR," she replied without hesitation.
Before she could elaborate, Aarav let out an exaggerated groan. "Oh no. Don't tell me it's because of SRK."
Vaani narrowed her eyes, mock-offended. "It is not just because of him."
Aarav grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Sure, sure. It's the 'team spirit' and the 'strategy', right?"
Vaani crossed her arms playfully. "Actually, yes. They've always had a good balance - strong middle order, and their spin attack is underrated. Even when they don't win, they play like a unit. I like that."
Dhruv, silent until now, glanced at her with mild curiosity again. She sounded so sure of herself, so certain in her likes and dislikes. It was striking - how easily she slid into conversation with confidence when she wasn't second-guessing herself tonight.
"You're loyal," Aarav said with a smirk, leaning toward her. "I'll give you that."
She raised an eyebrow. "Why? Who do you support?"
Aarav puffed his chest slightly. "CSK."
She groaned, exactly as he'd expected.
"Cliché," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Cliché?" he laughed. "Excuse you! That's called legacy."
Vaani shook her head, but her smile had grown. The air had relaxed around them.
Then, for a brief moment, there was a pause.
She hesitated.
Then, surprising herself even, she turned to Dhruv - her body shifting ever so slightly to face him, her expression curious. "What about... you?"
He looked up from his chai, surprised she addressed him. But he didn't let it show.
"Take a guess," he said, voice casual.
She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Hmm... MI?"
Aarav burst out laughing. "Bingo!"
Dhruv gave the smallest nod, not denying it. "Good guess."
"I see," she said softly, and there was a faint flicker of amusement in her eyes. "So you like legacy too?"
Dhruv's gaze held hers for a moment, steady. "Something like that."
There was another pause - not uncomfortable, but charged.
Aarav, never one to let silence linger too long, suddenly leaned in toward Vaani with an impish grin.
"You know, you talk cricket better than half the men I know," he said, teasingly. "If you weren't already married, I'd probably be swiping right on your profile."
She burst out laughing, shaking her head. "That's the weirdest line I've ever heard."
"I'm serious," he said with a safe teasing smile, one with pure sarcasm. "It's hard to find girls who know the net run rate equation."
Dhruv gave him a mildly unimpressed side-glance, but said nothing. His jaw tightening without him realizing.
Vaani waved him off. "Stop. You're going to make me regret talking."
"Why?" Aarav asked with mock innocence. "I'm just appreciating a cricket fan."
"Appreciate from a distance," she shot back with a smile, standing up to take his plate. "You've had dinner. Time to go home now."
"Damn. Cold." Aarav chuckled but handed her the plate nonetheless. "You Deshmukh people really know how to make a guy feel welcome."
As she walked into the kitchen, Aarav turned to Dhruv and wiggled his brows. "Where'd you find her, man? She's full of surprises."
Dhruv just stared at the TV again, but something in his jaw tightened. "She's got her own story," he replied.
When Vaani returned, she handed Aarav a glass of water and stood just behind the couch. Her hair was loose now, falling over her shoulder. She looked relaxed - more so than she'd been in days.
Aarav got up, stretching. "Alright, I'll get going for real tho. Early morning tomorrow. My cab's downstairs."
Vaani smiled. "Thanks for coming. Keep coming."
He gave her a playful little salute. "Thanks for the chai, dinner and the cricket trivia. We're playing KKR next week. I might call you for pre-match analysis."
"You'll regret it," she said, mock-serious. "I'll roast your bowling lineup."
As Aarav left, Dhruv walked him to the door and closed it behind him. The silence that followed was different now - quieter, yes, but not strained.
Vaani moved to pick up the empty cups when Dhruv's voice stopped her.
"You surprised me today," he said.
She turned slightly. "In what way?"
He shrugged. "Didn't take you for someone who keeps up with net run rates."
She gave a soft laugh. "Like I said... two brothers. They made sure I was battle ready."
He just nodded.
And then, after a pause, said quietly, "You don't have to keep walking on eggshells around here, you know."
She looked at him then - properly. The tension was there, yes. But there was also something warm. Unspoken understanding. An opening, maybe.
"Old habits," she said gently. "I'm... still figuring out the pace of all this."
He didn't respond. Just gave a small, acknowledging nod.
And as she turned away to finish clearing up, Dhruv found his gaze lingering on her for longer than usual.
The way her hair caught the light. The way she moved with soft purpose.
Maybe he didn't know her at all.
But maybe... he wanted to start.
15 mins later, Vaani was wiping down the counter slowly, the low hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the kitchen.
The TV was off. The hall was quiet again, the way it usually was after someone left.
She wasn't thinking about anything in particular - just letting her body move, her mind pleasantly fuzzy from the rare laughter.
She was reaching to put the last dish in the rack when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, slightly startled, only to see Dhruv walking in.
He didn't say anything immediately. Just held out a brown paper bag in one hand, like it was the most casual thing in the world.
She blinked, confused.
He handed it to her. "Open it."
She hesitated, glancing from the bag to his unreadable face, then slowly opened it. The unmistakable scent of hot, crispy McDonald's fries wafted up, and nestled beside it was a McFlurry.
Her eyebrows shot up, genuinely confused. "Fries... and ice cream?"
"You didn't eat anything," he said, tone flat but matter-of-fact, but indirectly laced with concern. "You gave your dinner to Aarav. Don't go to bed hungry."
She opened her mouth. "Oh no, it's alright, I really-"
"Vaani," he cut her off, voice firm but not unkind. "Eat before you sleep."
The use of her name - said like that, with no edge, no coldness - made her pause.
She swallowed and gave a small nod. "Okay."
He didn't say more. Just turned back toward the sink and poured himself a glass of water, leaving her holding the bag like it weighed more than it should.
She walked to the hall and sat on the far end of the couch, unwrapping the fries. They were still warm. She picked one up, bit into it, and instantly regretted how hungry she actually was.
The silence stretched again, but not uncomfortably. She looked at the TV for a second and reached for the remote - but then her hand stopped midway.
She glanced at Dhruv, who was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his glass.
He noticed.
"You can use the TV, Vaani," he said, not looking up.
She stammered slightly, caught. "No, I... I was just deciding what to watch."
He finally turned his gaze toward her, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "That long? Must be a really hard decision."
She made a face and quickly turned on the TV to cover her awkwardness. "I was halfway through Bridgerton."
Dhruv sipped his water. "The one with the British dukes and balls?"
She chuckled lightly. "You make it sound like a political documentary. But yeah. The one with the British dukes and scandal."
He didn't say anything, and she assumed he'd head to the room soon like he usually did.
But he didn't.
Instead, he walked over and sat on the other end of the couch, not too close but not far either, and leaned back, arms crossed, eyes on the screen.
Vaani tried not to react. Her hands gripped the fries a little tighter. She peeked sideways once - he seemed... neutral. Relaxed even.
"You've seen this?" she asked lightly, trying to act casual.
He shook his head. "No. Heard people talk about it, though."
"Well," she said, popping a fry in her mouth, "it's about dramatic voiceovers and a lot of people getting into trouble because they don't know how to talk about their feelings, but cute."
He hummed. "Sounds familiar."
She turned to look at him properly - surprised by the quiet humor in his voice - but he didn't look back. Just kept his eyes on the screen.
Vaani took another bite, then slowly started relaxing into the seat. Ten minutes passed. The characters were talking in hushed tones in a candlelit drawing room. She glanced down at her half-finished fries and the McFlurry, smiling slightly.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Dhruv didn't respond immediately, but then turned his head a little, still not quite facing her. "For what?"
"For the food," she said, meeting his eyes briefly.
This time he gave a very small nod, his expression unreadable, but something in his eyes softened just slightly.
The episode continued.
And for the first time in weeks, they shared a moment that wasn't about work, wasn't about expectations or unspoken awkwardness. It was just two people on a couch. Watching TV. Eating fries. Sitting in silence that wasn't tense - just full of possibility.
And in that moment, Dhruv glanced at her once more.
Not because of duty.
But because he was curious.
Interested.
And maybe-just maybe-finally starting to see her.
The low hum of Bridgerton filled the room, and Vaani sat curled up on one side of the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, a half-empty carton of McFlurry balanced on one thigh, the fries slowly disappearing one by one.
Her eyes were glued to the screen, completely hooked by the dramatic plot unfolding on screen.
The ballrooms, the stolen glances, the unspoken words - it all pulled her in the way only romantic chaos could.
Next to her, Dhruv sat with a slightly raised brow, arms crossed again, trying to keep up with who was in love with whom and who was pretending not to be in love with someone else. Ten minutes had passed. Then fifteen.
And he was... still there.
He shifted a little, subtly. Not because he was uncomfortable - the couch was plush and familiar - but because the show was slowly draining his attention span. There were too many lace gloves and too much whispered angst for his liking. But still, he stayed.
He could've left.
He could've stood up after the fries and McFlurry were safely delivered and returned to his room, or to his emails, or to whatever else his life usually demanded of him.
But he didn't.
And somewhere around the moment when the Duke was gazing across the garden at Daphne like his entire world was collapsing, Dhruv wondered why he was still there.
He glanced at Vaani. She hadn't even noticed him getting fidgety.
Her eyes were wide, shining with the dim glow of the TV, completely immersed.
She laughed softly at a line, shook her head in disbelief at another, like the characters were friends she had strong opinions about.
She reached for a fry, paused, then hesitantly turned to him, voice gentle.
"Do you want one?"
He looked at her, caught slightly off guard. "Nah, I'm good."
She gave a small, polite smile. "Oh. Okay."
She turned back toward the TV, going quiet again. But her expression shifted a little - just enough for him to notice. She looked... unsure? Maybe a little awkward for offering?
He didn't know why, but something about it made him shift again.
A second passed.
Then two.
Then, before he realized what he was doing, he said, "Okay fine. Give me one."
Her head turned back, surprised. "What?"
He shrugged casually. "A fry. Just one."
A smile flickered over her lips, and she reached into the packet and held one out to him. He took it - warm, slightly soggy from the steam of the paper bag - and popped it into his mouth. It was salty and hot and tasted far better than it should've.
He found himself watching the screen again.
It was the scene where the female lead was walking away from the Duke, angry and proud, and Dhruv - despite himself - wondered what he'd done wrong now. He squinted at the TV slightly, puzzled.
"They argue a lot," he muttered under his breath.
Vaani chuckled faintly. "That's kind of their whole thing. They don't know how to be honest with each other."
He nodded slowly, eyes flickering toward her again. She wasn't even looking at him. She was completely wrapped in the story again.
After a few more silent moments, she spoke without turning. "You don't have to give me company, by the way. It's okay. You can sleep if you want."
Dhruv looked at her, taken aback by the softness in her tone. It wasn't defensive or distant - just simple. Matter-of-fact.
But he shook his head. "Nah. It's fine. I'm not sleepy."
She turned slightly, surprised. Their eyes met again - a brief, quiet pause stretching between them. But she nodded and turned back toward the screen, pulling the McFlurry closer to her again and taking a small bite.
He stayed.
And didn't even notice when the show began to actually make sense.
Or maybe... it didn't matter anymore. Maybe the show wasn't really what he was there for.
??