20
The house was quiet now, except for the soft humming of the AC and the distant city sounds muffled behind the windows. Vaani stood at the door of the guest bedroom, her eyes fixed on the two sleeping figures inside.
Vedant was sprawled across the bed diagonally, one arm hanging over the edge, completely oblivious to space or grace.
Vihaan, on the other hand, was curled up on his side, his arms wrapped tightly around the navy-blue Columbia hoodie like it was a childhood toy.
His face, even in sleep, carried a soft smile. Peaceful. Content. Hopeful.
Vaani watched him with a deep affection swelling in her chest, her hand resting on the doorframe.
She felt her eyes sting again, but this time it was a quiet joy - the kind that didn't need to be spoken, only felt.
After all the uncertainty, all the heaviness, he was finally happy.
And safe. And dreaming the kind of dreams she'd always wanted for him.
She smiled to herself and gently pulled the door shut, careful not to make a sound.
As she stepped back into the living room, the dim glow of a side lamp lit Dhruv's frame.
He was leaning against the back of the couch, relaxed, one hand on his phone, the other flipping through the TV remote without really watching anything.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his posture casual, but his eyes were focused, as always.
She walked toward him slowly.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He turned his head toward her. "For?"
She stood beside the couch, arms folded. "For being nice to my brothers today."
He blinked at her for a second, then shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "They're my brothers too, aren't they?"
Something about the way he said it made her heart pause for a second. Not as a statement to impress, not performative, just plain and honest - like he genuinely believed it.
She didn't say anything, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before he turned back to his phone.
A second later, it buzzed, and he answered the call, walking a few steps away.
"Yes," he said into the phone. "Thank you very much. No worries, I'll let you know if there's anything else."
He hung up quickly and turned just as Vaani walked in again, this time already in her night clothes, her hair loosely tied. She crossed the room and quietly slid under the blanket on her side of the bed.
He noticed her from the corner of his eye, then sat on the edge of his side, placing his phone down.
"What happened?" she asked, propping herself up slightly on her elbow.
"Nothing," he said, brushing his hair back. "Just a quick work call."
She nodded and settled back down. There was a silence again, thick but not heavy, just lingering.
"I'm working from home tomorrow too," he added after a pause.
She nodded, still facing the ceiling. "Me too."
He glanced at her, then looked away.
Why are we so awkward? he thought, the question quietly sitting in his chest.
"We have to go to your parents' place tomorrow," he said, voice lower now. "Your parents have called us over for lunch."
Vaani turned to look at him.
"They said my parents will be there too."
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
He nodded too. "Okay."
They both lay back in bed, each turned slightly to their own side, the soft darkness of the room folding around them.
Dhruv reached up and turned off the side lamp. The room went still, lit only by the faint glow of the city lights seeping through the curtains.
Vaani lay in silence, her back to him, her mind churning with the same question he had moments ago.
Why is this so awkward?
They weren't strangers. They weren't angry. They weren't distant in the real sense. And yet, something invisible stretched between them like a line they both kept tiptoeing around, unsure of how to step over.
They had just shared an incredible moment - together. Given Vihaan a memory he would carry for life. And still, here they were... lying inches apart and feeling like they were navigating different orbits.
She wanted to say something. Ask him what was wrong. Or maybe what was right. Tell him that she noticed everything - the hoodie, the gestures, the way he made her brothers laugh like he'd known them forever. That it mattered. That he mattered.
But her lips didn't move.
And neither did his.
Dhruv was wide awake, staring at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head. Maybe we're overthinking it, he told himself. Maybe this is just new... and awkward... because it's still settling. Or maybe we're waiting for each other to say the thing the other can't bring themselves to.
He turned his head just slightly. Her outline was soft in the moonlight, her breathing slow and quiet. Maybe she was already asleep. Maybe she was pretending to be.
He thought of Vihaan's smile. Of the hoodie. Of the small tear he saw trailing down her cheek that she tried to hide earlier.
And then he turned back and closed his eyes, the silence stretching on.
Two people, lying beside each other.
Both wondering the same thing.
Both feeling the same warmth.
And both too afraid to speak.
~·~
The early morning sun was still stretching its golden arms across the sky when Vaani stepped out of the bedroom, the soft cotton of her kurta brushing against her legs as she padded toward the kitchen.
Her hair was loosely tied up, and she was already showered, refreshed, and ready to start the day.
It felt strangely nice - this little sense of routine, the quiet house, the sound of birds outside the balcony, and the faint echo of the boys still asleep in the guest room.
She brewed the chai first, letting the steam rise and warm her cheeks as the scent of elaichi and ginger filled the kitchen.
Then, as quietly as possible, she prepared breakfast - poha with peanuts and some buttered toast on the side, knowing Vedant preferred it.
She even cut up some fruit and set it out in small bowls.
She didn't know why she was doing all this. She just...wanted to.
Maybe it was because her brothers were home. Or maybe it was the sense of lightness Vihaan's news had brought the night before. Or maybe it was the way Dhruv had handled it all - silent, present, quietly generous. No questions, no lectures. Just there.
By 8:30, she was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly, sipping on her chai, dressed simply but glowing in the soft morning light. Her anklet made the slightest sound as she adjusted her legs under her.
An hour later, the quiet started to break.
The guest room door creaked open, and Vihaan came out first, his hair damp, hoodie half-zipped, stretching like he hadn't slept in days. Vedant followed, equally showered, hair slicked back, yawning like a lion cub.
And a few seconds later, Dhruv emerged from the master bedroom, fresh from his shower, running a hand through his hair, towel around his neck, wearing a comfortable grey T-shirt and loose pants.
Vaani stood up, already picking up the tray with the tea cups.
"Chai, everyone," she said, offering each of them their mugs with a warm smile.
Vihaan blinked, still waking up, and took the cup. "Wait... what?"
She looked at him, amused. "What?"
He narrowed his eyes dramatically. "How are you awake before 8?"
Vaani raised an eyebrow, pretending innocence. "Excuse me?"
Dhruv looked up at that, clearly intrigued.
Vihaan turned to him with mock outrage. "Dada, back home she doesn't even open her eyes before 9 unless it's urgent work. And now look at her - awake, showered, made chai and breakfast before 8:30 am? Who is she?"
Vedant chimed in between bites of poha, "Seriously, tai, are you feeling okay? Is it the altitude?"
Vaani rolled her eyes and looked down, trying not to smile. "Arre, it's nothing."
But Dhruv's gaze lingered on her for a beat longer. He didn't say anything, just observed the slight blush creeping up her cheek, the way she busied herself straightening the tray, pretending their teasing hadn't hit closer than she let on.
He sipped his tea slowly, savoring the warmth. "It's good chai," he said simply.
She gave him a quick nod and turned to her brothers.
"By the way," she said, standing straighter now. "We're going for dinner today. Everyone's coming - Aai, Baba, your side, my side."
Vedant perked up immediately. "Ooh, fancy dinner with both sets of parents. I'm staying with you guys till then."
Dhruv chuckled lightly. "No surprise there."
Vihaan looked up from his toast. "I'll also stay if that's okay. I'll just go home and grab my laptop - need to work on my final year project."
Vaani nodded automatically, then paused, glancing at Dhruv for confirmation.
But he didn't even look up from his cup. "I'll give you some campus insights, Vihaan. Might help you shape your project to fit international models."
Vihaan grinned. "Thanks, dada."
Vaani looked at Dhruv a second longer. Something about the way he just assumed her brothers would stay, like they were already part of the space - part of his space - made her chest warm.
He hadn't waited for her to explain.
He hadn't needed her permission.
And in that moment, she felt her throat tighten just slightly - not with discomfort, but with that quiet realization that something had shifted. Gently. Naturally. But undeniably.
The boys went back to eating and laughing and pulling each other's legs. Vedant was describing the girl he matched with on a dating app (and unmatched with in ten minutes). Vihaan was arguing about which American football team was worth supporting, based on vibe, not stats.
And Vaani just watched.
Watched as her brothers blended into this house so easily.
Watched as Dhruv, seated in the middle, laughed along like he'd been part of the trio all along.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, as the sun rose higher and the air filled with sibling chatter and smells of breakfast and chai, she realized:
She didn't feel like a guest anymore.
She felt...home.
And that scared her just a little. But it also made her smile.
By mid-morning, the house felt settled again.
Vihaan was half bouncing, half pacing as he picked up his keys.
"I'll just go get my laptop, be back in fifteen minutes," he said, slipping on his shoes.
Vaani nodded from where she was clearing up the breakfast cups.
"Drive carefully," she called after him.
Vedant, already comfortable on the couch, had curled up with a blanket and was browsing Netflix until he landed on some action movie.
Dhruv, leaning casually against the armrest, was making easy conversation with him - asking about his school friends, the kind of sports he followed, which part of UK he liked best. Vedant, being Vedant, answered with a mix of enthusiasm and dramatic storytelling.
Vaani excused herself quietly, heading back to the bedroom with her laptop. The door clicked softly shut behind her, sealing her into a bubble of stillness away from the voices outside.
She settled cross-legged on the bed, opening the design files she'd been meaning to revise.
The room filled with the faint hum of her laptop fan, the muted clatter of keys as she adjusted lines, recolored elements, and rearranged mock-ups.
On the surface, she was focused - or at least she looked it.
But the numbers kept creeping in.
Even while adjusting spacing on a page header, she found her mind darting back to the figure: $35,000.
That was what it would take now for Vihaan's tuition and accommodation, even after the new scholarship.
She had said yes yesterday without thinking twice, because this was Columbia - because he deserved it - because another scholarship wasn't going to come.
But yes was easy in the moment. Arranging the money wasn't.
Her fingers paused on the keyboard. She stared at the mock-up in front of her, but what she was really seeing was a spreadsheet in her head - numbers lined up in neat but uncooperative rows.
She thought about her savings account. The balance had taken a hit last year after Baba's surgery.
She thought about the small investments she'd made.
Liquidating them could bring in something, but not all.
And it wasn't just Vihaan.
Vedant's undergraduate was coming up fast. The UK offer he was leaning toward was ￡30,000. Another weighty figure. Another promise she'd made silently to herself: that she'd help him the same way she was helping Vihaan.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
It wasn't that she regretted saying yes. She didn't. She would find a way - she always did. But this time, the gap between the promise and the reality was wide, and she was standing right on the edge of it.
Outside the room, she could faintly hear Dhruv's voice, steady and warm as he spoke to Vedant. A laugh from Vedant. Then a short burst of commentary from the movie they were half-watching.
Vaani's fingers hovered above the trackpad. She wondered if she should talk to Aai and Baba about it - but she knew what they'd say. That they'd try to help, even if it meant stretching themselves thin. That wasn't what she wanted.
Maybe she could take on more projects. More clients. She could work nights for a while. That was doable, right? She'd done it before. Though, last time, she hadn't been balancing so much else.
Her eyes dropped to her planner lying beside her. A pen was tucked in neatly, marking the page. She opened it, flipping past the neat checkboxes for today's tasks until she reached a blank space. She wrote quickly:
Funding: Vihaan - $35,000, Vedant - ￡30,000.
Below that, she began listing options.
- Sell some investments
- Check bank loan terms
- Extra freelance projects
- Talk to potential sponsors/contacts
She stared at the list for a long time. None of it was impossible. But none of it was easy either.
Fifteen minutes later, she heard the front door click open.
Vihaan was back. His footsteps were lighter than usual, and there was a faint thud of his bag hitting the floor in the hall.
Dhruv's voice reached her again, this time chatting with Vihaan - she couldn't make out the words, but the tone was easy, casual.
She didn't move. The bedroom felt like the only place where she could keep the worry contained, where she could let her face stay thoughtful without anyone asking why.
But even in here, her mind wouldn't sit still.
She thought back to the moment last night, when Vihaan hugged her so tightly after she'd made the deposit. His voice in her ear, full of relief and disbelief: Really? She'd said yes then with complete certainty. And she still meant it.
It was just... there was a clock ticking somewhere in the back of her head now.
She looked at the list she'd written again. She knew she'd have to start acting on it soon, before the months slipped by. The thought of telling Dhruv crossed her mind briefly - and just as quickly, she dismissed it.
No. Not yet.
Out in the hall, someone laughed loudly - probably Vedant reacting to something on the screen. A second later, Dhruv's voice joined in, and even Vihaan's deeper chuckle mixed in.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the sound drift in.
Vaani was still on the bed, her laptop open in front of her, though she hadn't touched the keyboard in a good ten minutes.
The cursor blinked on the half-finished mock-up, but her eyes were unfocused, mind replaying numbers and deadlines.
Every time she thought about Columbia, that $35,000 loomed larger, almost like it was pressing against her ribs.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made her glance up. Dhruv appeared at the door, leaning a little on the frame before stepping inside.
"You good?" he asked simply.
She nodded once, not trusting herself to over-explain. "Yeah."
He didn't move away. His gaze stayed on her a second longer, like he was checking for cracks she wasn't showing. Then, in his usual calm tone, he said, "Vedant and Vihaan are in their own world, so I'm free."
She nodded again, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, I'll... I'll go handle them. Sorry you had to babysit."
She closed her laptop halfway and was about to swing her legs off the bed when he said, "Like I said, they're in their own world, Vaani. You don't need to attend to them. You can stay here."
Something in his voice - not exactly an order, not exactly a request - made her pause. She looked at him for a moment, trying to read what he meant. But his face was unreadable, so she sat back down, laptop still resting on her knees.
"Okay," she said quietly.
He walked further in, his steps unhurried, and leaned against the corner of the dresser. "So... the Abu Dhabi office will be done in three months. That's earlier than planned."
"That's good," she replied, meeting his eyes briefly before looking back at the laptop.
He nodded, his expression neutral. "Yeah. It is."
The room settled into silence after that. The faint sounds from the living room - Vedant's occasional laughter, the low hum of Vihaan's voice - came in muffled through the door.
Dhruv didn't seem in a hurry to leave. He wasn't on his phone, wasn't fidgeting. Just... there. Watching.
He thought he liked silence. In most cases, he did - it was clean, it was simple, it didn't demand constant energy. But silence with her? It wasn't the same. It felt like something was missing. Or maybe like something was locked away and he didn't know where the key was.
She seemed completely absorbed in whatever was on her screen now, though he wasn't sure if she was actually working or just pretending to be. Every so often, her brows would knit faintly, then relax again. She didn't glance his way.
He wondered why she didn't want to talk to him.
He wasn't oblivious. He knew she was holding things back - there was a way her voice went too light sometimes, or how she would switch topics almost abruptly if something got too close to... whatever it was she didn't want to share.
He told himself it wasn't his business. But for reasons he couldn't quite name, it annoyed him more than it should.
She finally typed something, her fingers quick over the keys, then leaned back slightly to look at the full screen. Still, no glance at him. No effort to say anything.
He wondered if this was how she wanted it - the neat, polite co-existence. No overstepping, no intrusion, just two people moving in the same space.
The problem was... he didn't want just that.
But she clearly wasn't going to open up if she didn't want to. And he wasn't the type to force a conversation.
From her side, Vaani could feel his eyes on her. Not in a heavy, uncomfortable way - more like a quiet presence that kept brushing the edges of her focus. She told herself to keep working, to not get distracted. But the awareness was still there, like a soft hum in the background.
She didn't know why he'd come in. Maybe just to check on her.
Maybe because the boys really didn't need him out there.
But part of her also wondered if he was going to ask her something.
.. something that would push her to explain the thoughts running circles in her head about Vihaan's fees and Vedant's upcoming expenses.
But he didn't.
So she didn't, either.
The unspoken hung between them, and she went back to her designs, adjusting color palettes and margins, acting like her chest wasn't tight with things left unsaid.
He, meanwhile, stayed where he was, watching her without comment, his mind circling around the same thought: Why does she keep holding back from me?
Vaani adjusted something on her screen, but her mind was no longer on the design.
Dhruv was still leaning casually against the dresser, arms crossed now, gaze drifting but not leaving her completely.
She exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of that quiet, and before she could overthink it, the words just came out.
"Do you want chai?"
He turned his head slightly, brow knitting. "What?"
She cleared her throat. "Chai. Do you... want?"
His expression didn't change much, just a small pause before he asked, "No. Why?"
"No, I thought... maybe-" she began, awkwardly, her voice losing volume halfway.
"I don't want anything," he cut in, his tone even but not sharp. Then he added, "And if I do, I'll make it for all of us. You're not a house help."
Her lips parted like she might say something, but she didn't. She only nodded once, quietly, and looked back at her laptop.
For a moment, neither spoke again. The air between them wasn't hostile, but it wasn't easy either.
From the living room came Vihaan's voice, loud and unfiltered: "Dadaaa!"
Dhruv straightened slightly and called back, "Yeah?"
"Can you help me with my Columbia thing? I'm a bit confused on the website!" Vihaan's voice carried through, earnest and impatient at once.
Dhruv's eyes flicked to Vaani, just for a second, before looking toward the open doorway. "Yes, I'm coming," he called back.
Vaani shut her laptop and moved to get up from the bed. "I'm sorry about him, I'll go-"
But she didn't finish the sentence, because his hand closed around her wrist. Not roughly. Just enough to stop her.
"It's alright. I'll go," he said, his voice dropping softer, and then the Marathi slipped out without thought: "Tu tuza kaam kar." You do your work.
She stilled, caught in the unexpected warmth beneath the words. For someone who often carried himself like he had his own walls built high and strong, moments like this slipped through - small, quick gestures that she didn't see coming.
Before she could react, he let go, turned, and walked out toward the living room. His steps were unhurried, but there was no question he was going to help Vihaan without a second thought.
She sat there for a few seconds longer, fingers absently brushing the spot on her wrist where his hand had been. It wasn't like he'd said anything extraordinary, but something about the mix of his blunt exterior and quiet consideration unsettled her in a way she couldn't name.
From outside, she heard his voice with Vihaan's - low, patient, explaining something about the portal and scholarship forms. Vihaan laughed at some comment, and Dhruv's voice joined in, faint but there.
She tried to turn her focus back to work, but her mind wandered.
He could be so warm in these flashes, so instinctively protective, and yet half the time it felt like he was deliberately keeping her at a distance.
She wasn't sure which was the real Dhruv, or if both sides simply existed together, perfectly comfortable in contradiction.
When she finally opened her file again, she was only half-looking at it. Her ears kept catching bits of the conversation outside - Vihaan asking questions, Dhruv's voice guiding him through, Vedant laughing at something on the TV.
It struck her, then, how naturally Dhruv had slipped into that space with her brothers. Not performative, not forced - just... there, like he belonged.
And she wondered, not for the first time, why that bothered her a little. Not in a bad way. More in the sense that it reminded her he was becoming a bigger part of her world than she'd planned for.
She shook the thought away, took a breath, and bent her head back over her laptop.
~·~
It was early evening, and the golden light filtering in through the curtains made her room look softer, warmer.
Vaani stood in front of the wardrobe, one hand on the door, the other absently touching the edge of a hanger as she scanned through rows of clothes.
She had been standing there for a good ten minutes, mentally pulling out options and then putting them back before she'd even touched them.
She could go with something western, maybe a simple dress - but that felt a little too casual for dinner with both sets of parents. A saree? No, too formal for a weekday dinner at home. Something in between, she decided. Comfortable, presentable, and not fussy.
Her fingers stopped on a soft cotton-silk salwar suit in a muted shade of sage green.
The kameez had delicate embroidery along the neckline and cuffs, the kind of work that caught the light without being loud.
The dupatta was a lighter shade, almost a whisper of mint, with a thin gold border that shimmered when it moved.
She laid it out on the bed and took a moment just to look at it, imagining herself in it. It was elegant without trying too hard - exactly what she needed.
When she wore it, the fabric felt light on her skin, the sleeves grazing her wrists. The embroidery framed her collarbone neatly, and the dupatta fell in soft folds over one shoulder, the gold border catching the fading sunlight that streamed in from the window.
Her hair, still slightly damp from her shower earlier, she decided to leave open.
She brushed through it slowly until it fell in loose waves down her back, the ends curling slightly on their own.
A few strands framed her face naturally, softening her features.
She debated pinning it back but decided against it - the open hair worked with the look.
For jewellery, she chose a pair of small gold jhumkas - nothing flashy, just enough to tie in with the gold thread on the suit. A thin bangle on one wrist, her watch on the other. No necklace - the embroidered neckline was enough detail.
When she finally looked at herself in the mirror, she let out a small breath. This would do. It felt like her - not overdressed, not underdressed. Presentable for family, comfortable for herself.
Vaani was almost ready to step out when her eyes drifted toward the small wooden shelf by the mirror - the one where she kept a few essentials she didn't wear every day but always reached for on occasions when family was involved.
Her fingers hesitated for a second before reaching for the small silver box.
She flipped it open gently, revealing the deep crimson sindoor inside.
For a moment, she just looked at it - the colour always felt both grounding and significant, something that wasn't part of her routine every single day, but when she wore it, it felt like a quiet acknowledgment of who she was now.
She pinched a little between her fingers, carefully parting her hair at the centre. With a practiced motion, she filled the parting with a neat, fine line of red. It stood out vividly against her dark hair, a small streak of colour that seemed to anchor her whole look.
Next, she reached for her mangalsutra, the delicate black and gold beads glinting faintly in the light.
The chain was light but carried weight in meaning.
She unclasped it and slipped it around her neck, the beads settling against her collarbone, the small pendant resting neatly above the embroidery of her kameez.
She smoothed the dupatta over her shoulder again, the gold border grazing the beads of the mangalsutra. The combination of the sage green fabric, the glint of gold, and the deep red sindoor gave her reflection in the mirror a sense of quiet grace - not extravagant, but deeply personal.
For a second, she simply stood there, taking it in. This wasn't just "dressing up" - these little additions were part of her identity now. Something that spoke for her without her having to say a word.
She gave the dupatta a small adjustment so it fell just right over her arm, then slipped on a pair of simple kolhapuri sandals.
As she reached for her phone, she caught her reflection again in the mirror - a little softer, a little warmer than usual - and she realised, strangely, that she felt calmer now.
Vaani stepped out of the bedroom, phone in one hand, dupatta adjusted neatly over her shoulder. The faint click of her sandals against the floor caught the attention of the three in the living room.
Vedant, who was slouched on the couch scrolling through his phone, was the first to notice. He sat up immediately, giving a low whistle before grinning, "Arre tai, full ready!"
Vihaan, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with his laptop beside him, turned at his brother's tone. His grin matched Vedant's. "Wow, tai... even the fancy dupatta. Must be a big deal tonight."
She rolled her eyes at their teasing but couldn't help smiling. "It's just dinner with both families, stop acting like it's a red carpet event."
Vedant exchanged a mischievous glance with Vihaan. "Same thing, tai. You look... you know, formal. Respectable. Like a... married lady," he said with exaggerated dignity, clasping his hands like he was at a wedding.
She shook her head, chuckling under her breath, but her smile softened just slightly at his words.
Dhruv was standing near the window, phone in hand, dressed in a well-fitted dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway, paired with tailored trousers.
His hair was neatly styled, and the faint scent of his cologne carried even from a short distance away.
He hadn't looked up immediately, but when Vedant's voice carried across the room, he finally turned his head.
His gaze found her instantly.
For a brief moment, he didn't move. His eyes flicked over her face, her neatly tied hair, the muted elegance of her sage green suit... and then lingered - almost imperceptibly - at the base of her throat where her mangalsutra rested.
It wasn't a long look, not enough for anyone else to notice, but it was steady. His expression didn't give anything away, yet there was something quietly focused about it. A second later, his gaze moved up again to meet hers.
She offered a small smile - the polite kind, the one she used when she wasn't sure what he was thinking - and he gave a barely-there nod in return.
Vedant clapped his hands together, breaking whatever unspoken thing had settled between them. "Chalo then? Let's go before we're late and the parents give us the you-don't-value-time lecture."
Vihaan closed his laptop with a soft click, standing and brushing off imaginary dust from his jeans. "I'm ready," he announced, slipping his phone into his pocket.
"Hmm," Dhruv hummed in agreement, sliding his own phone away. He adjusted the cuff of his shirt before stepping toward the door. "Let's go."
Vaani moved past her brothers toward the shoe rack, bending slightly to slip on her sandals.
She could feel Dhruv's presence a few steps away, his tall frame briefly blocking the warm light from the hallway.
For just a second, she caught that subtle flicker of his gaze again - the one that dropped to her mangalsutra and stayed there an instant too long.
It wasn't obvious, not enough for her brothers to notice, but she felt it.
She didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge it, just focused on adjusting her dupatta so it fell neatly over her shoulder again.
"Car's downstairs?" Vedant asked, already pulling the house keys from the small bowl by the shoe rack.
"Yeah," Dhruv replied, his voice even, his attention shifting back toward the door. "Let's not keep them waiting."
Vihaan grinned and gave a little nudge to his brother as they stepped out. "Dinner with both sides... feels like a cricket match - home and away teams."
Vaani rolled her eyes again, but she was smiling faintly. "Just get in the car before you start giving match commentary."
As they all moved toward the lift, Dhruv held the door open briefly, letting her pass before him. It was such a small gesture, done without any fanfare, but she noticed it.
When she stepped inside, she didn't look back - though she didn't need to. She could still feel that faint weight of his earlier gaze, lingering in the back of her mind, right where the cool beads of her mangalsutra rested against her skin.
??