24
The study was filled with the muted hum of the AC and the rapid rhythm of typing keys.
Vaani sat at the desk Dhruv had set up for her, her posture slightly hunched as she leaned closer to the monitor.
Her eyes darted between the screen, her phone, and the notepad she had beside her, filled with tiny scribbles and half-finished lists.
She barely noticed the door open until the faint sound of footsteps reached her ears. She turned slightly, startled, to find Dhruv standing in the doorway.
"Dhruv?" she asked, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Something happened?"
He stepped in slowly, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. "I wanted to ask you something."
Her brows furrowed. "What is it?"
He leaned against the side of the desk, his voice even but probing. "What did Aai mean yesterday... when she said you don't talk to them anymore?"
For a moment, she froze. Then she gave a small, practiced smile. "Oh, that. Nothing really. I've just been busy with work, so I didn't find time to call."
Dhruv studied her carefully, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, the way her hands fidgeted slightly with the pen on her desk.
"Hmm," he said after a pause, but the sound carried more weight than a simple acknowledgment.
Vaani turned back to her screen, eager to redirect herself into work, but his next words made her pause again.
"Go visit them today."
Her head snapped back toward him, eyes wide. "What?"
He met her gaze steadily. "Go visit them today."
Her lips parted, then pressed together, uncertainty flickering across her face. "I don't know if I can... I have so much pending—"
"It's up to you," he cut in gently, his tone nonchalant, almost casual. But there was something firm underneath, something that wasn't asking so much as nudging.
Vaani swallowed, hesitating, before giving a small nod. "...Okay."
Dhruv straightened from the desk, gave her one last unreadable look, and left the room.
She sat in silence for a while after he'd gone, her cursor blinking on the screen.
The weight of his words lingered—Go visit them today.
It sounded simple, but the thought of carving out even a few hours felt impossible with everything piled on her shoulders.
Still, the way he'd said it... not as a request, but as something she needed. .. unsettled her.
In the living room, Dhruv settled onto the sofa, the TV remote in his hand. The news channel flickered to life, but his thoughts weren't on the headlines scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
Instead, he replayed her reaction. The hesitation. The automatic excuse. The way she avoided eye contact when the topic of her family came up.
What is going on with her?
He frowned, turning up the volume absently, but his mind refused to settle.
Half an hour later, the sound of soft footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned his head slightly to see Vaani emerging from the study, her face composed but carrying the faint lines of fatigue.
"Should I make lunch?" she asked, her tone polite, almost careful.
He raised an eyebrow. "I can make it."
Her eyes widened slightly, then she shook her head quickly. "No, no. Tumhi basa (You sit). I'll make it."
Before he could respond, she'd already disappeared into the kitchen.
Dhruv hesitated for a beat, then sighed and pushed himself off the sofa. He wasn't going to sit idle while she busied herself again.
When he entered the kitchen, she was already at the counter, sleeves rolled up slightly as she chopped vegetables. Her movements were quick, efficient, almost mechanical—like someone who had done this countless times without thinking.
He leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "You need help?"
She didn't even glance up. "No, it's alright. I can manage."
He tilted his head, watching her hands move steadily over the cutting board. "You say that a lot."
This time she did glance up, confusion knitting her brows. "Say what?"
"That you can manage." His voice was calm, but his eyes were fixed on her.
For a moment, something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe even guilt—but she quickly masked it with a small shrug. "It's true. I can."
He didn't argue. He just stood there, silent, watching her stir the pan, her brow furrowed in concentration. The quiet clatter of utensils filled the space, but beneath it was an undercurrent of something else—a heaviness he couldn't quite name.
He noticed the way she barely paused, moving from chopping to stirring to adjusting spices, all while keeping one eye on her phone that buzzed faintly on the counter.
Always working. Always moving.
He wanted to say something—ask her why she pushed herself like this, why she never seemed to let anyone help. But the words caught in his throat. Instead, he let his gaze linger, his silence speaking louder than anything else.
And though she kept her eyes on the pan, Vaani could feel it—his quiet presence, his watchfulness. It made her hands falter for a split second before she steadied them again, her heart beating faster than it should for such an ordinary moment.
The kitchen smelled of cumin and garlic as Vaani stirred the last of the curry, lowering the flame carefully.
She plated the chapatis onto a hot plate, added a bowl of salad, and set the serving spoons neatly.
Dhruv, who had silently taken it upon himself to set the dining table while she cooked, placed glasses of water on each side.
Neither of them said much, but the silence wasn't heavy—it was steady, like both had learned to exist in it without awkwardness.
Once the food was ready, they carried everything to the table. Vaani poured the curry into a serving dish, wiped her hands on her dupatta, and finally sat down across from him.
"Thank you," Dhruv said simply, gesturing at the spread.
She smiled faintly. "It's nothing."
They began eating, the quiet clink of spoons and plates filling the room.
Dhruv noticed how she kept glancing at her phone, which was lying on the chair next to her, lighting up every few minutes with notifications.
Every time it buzzed, her eyes flickered toward it, a flash of temptation crossing her face before she forced herself to stay focused on the food.
Halfway through, Dhruv spoke. "Mom and Dad called in the morning."
She looked up, mid-bite. "Oh?"
"Yeah," he said casually, taking a sip of water. "They want us to go on a honeymoon."
The piece of chapati in her hand paused in mid-air. "What?"
He nodded, as though this was routine, unsurprising news. "They mentioned it while we were talking. Mom especially was insistent."
Vaani blinked, almost as if trying to process the word honeymoon in connection to herself. "Oh..." she said finally.
"Yep." He leaned back slightly, watching her reaction. "And it doesn't look like we can dodge it. So, we'll need to go."
She set her chapati down and nodded slowly. "Okay."
"The question," Dhruv continued, his tone practical, "is where do you want to go?"
Her lips parted, then closed again. "Anywhere is fine," she said softly, almost too quickly, as if wanting to end the conversation before it began.
He raised an eyebrow. "Vaani, decide."
She fidgeted with her glass, her eyes dropping to the table. "I don't know. Can you... give me options?"
Dhruv tilted his head, amused despite himself. "Hmm. I thought you'd say that."
He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled for a second. "Alright. Mom suggested a few places—London, Paris, and Florence."
Vaani blinked. The names sounded almost surreal to her, as if they belonged to someone else's life, not hers.
"And," he continued, "I thought of some options too.
A quieter trip—maybe Santorini in Greece, or Lake Como in Italy.
Or something closer home, like Kashmir or Kerala.
Or even something religious, scenic places—Rishikesh, Haridwar, or maybe Varanasi.
Beautiful spots, peaceful, and less about glamour. "
Vaani listened, her mind whirring. The names painted vivid pictures—cobbled streets of Europe, white domes against blue seas, snowy mountains, riverbanks glowing with aarti flames. But along with the images came the creeping thought of costs, of money slipping through her fingers like sand.
She bit her lip, staring at her plate. "They all sound... nice," she murmured.
Dhruv noticed the hesitation in her voice, the slight furrow of her brows. He set his spoon down and leaned forward. "Which one do you want?"
"I..." She faltered. "I really don't know. I mean... I'm fine with whatever you decide."
He gave a small, almost exasperated chuckle. "Vaani, you can't keep deflecting everything to me. This is your choice too. If you want something specific, say it."
Her fingers tightened around her glass. She lifted her gaze to meet his, unsure, caught between the instinct to please and the anxiety pressing at the back of her mind.
"Do you want Europe?" he asked directly.
Her lips parted, but she hesitated too long, and silence stretched between them.
"Or India?" His voice was calm, patient, but persistent.
"I don't know..." she admitted, almost a whisper.
He leaned back, watching her closely, trying to read what lay behind her hesitation. But she quickly looked down again, picking at her food, shutting herself off.
For the next few minutes, the silence returned—not heavy, not hostile, but thick with the words unsaid.
Vaani kept her eyes on her plate, while Dhruv simply studied her, wondering what it was that made her so resistant to choosing, why every question seemed like something she wanted to escape rather than answer.
Finally, he spoke again, his tone softer. "Think about it. No rush. Just... think about what you want, not what others will settle for."
She nodded faintly, grateful for the reprieve. "Okay."
And with that, they both returned to their food.
But while Dhruv quietly ate, his mind turning over her silence, Vaani's thoughts were far elsewhere—tallying numbers, comparing costs, and wondering which option would sting less when the bills started piling in.
Lunch had ended with the clinking of cutlery, the soft scrape of plates being pushed aside, and then quiet once more.
Vaani had helped clear the table, methodically stacking the dishes in the sink, while Dhruv carried the leftover curry to the kitchen.
It wasn't the silence of strangers, nor of lovers—it was something between, a rhythm neither had tried to define.
Later, she sat curled on the sofa, her notepad on her lap, pretending to jot reminders for the coming week. But her mind was elsewhere. Dhruv's words from lunch tugged at her: Decide, Vaani. What do you want?
It wasn't just about a trip. It was about choices. And choices, to her, always meant cost. Expense. Something else she'd have to balance.
She had thought of it over and over—Paris, Florence, Santorini. The names sounded beautiful but heavy, like indulgences she had no business touching. The Indian cities were safer, simpler, but would they satisfy her parents-in-law? Would Dhruv enjoy them? She chewed her pen, restless.
Her gaze shifted to the window, sunlight spilling in.
Somewhere deep down, an image flickered—a place she had once dreamed of seeing, but never could.
Scotland. Rolling green hills, lochs that looked endless, castles peeking from the mist. A younger Vaani, sitting in her dormitory room in London, had pinned photographs of Scotland on her board but had never dared to actually go.
Too busy with assignments. Too tight on money. Too careful.
Her heart gave a quiet pull.
She looked up. Dhruv was sitting at the dining table, his laptop open, skimming something on the screen. His expression was neutral, his posture relaxed. He didn't look like he was waiting for an answer, but she knew he was.
"Dhruv?" she said softly.
He looked up immediately, meeting her eyes with that steady gaze of his. "Hmm?"
Her fingers twisted around her pen cap. She hesitated for a beat before saying it. "Can we... can we visit Scotland?"
He blinked, taken aback, as though he hadn't expected her to actually offer a choice. "What?"
"Scotland," she repeated, more firmly this time. Her eyes searched his face, bracing herself.
He leaned back slightly, eyebrows lifting. "You haven't seen Scotland?"
She shook her head. "No. I... I haven't."
"But didn't you study in the UK?"
"Yes," she admitted, her voice soft, almost sheepish.
"Both my universities were down South. Oxford and London.
And I used to get too busy to be able to go off for the weekend.
Assignments, part-time work, sometimes just..
." She trailed off, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. "There was no time."
Dhruv studied her for a long moment, reading something unspoken in her tone. Then he nodded once, simply. "Okay. We'll go to Scotland."
Her chest tightened, relief and disbelief mingling in equal measure. "Really?"
"Yeah." His voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "If that's where you want, we'll go."
Something in her face softened, the careful guard she always held trembling just a little. She hadn't realized how much she needed him to agree.
"Anywhere else?" he asked then, leaning forward again, tone casual.
She hesitated. "No. That's it. You add your own city too, if you want."
He tapped his fingers against the table, thoughtful. "Hmm. UK... I haven't been there before."
"Never?" she asked, a touch of surprise in her voice.
"Nope. Always skipped it. But..." He paused, thinking, then looked at her. "I want to go to Oxford."
For the first time in days, Vaani's expression cracked open with something unguarded—surprise, delight even. Her head snapped up. "Oxford!"
The word burst out almost too quickly, almost too happy. She caught herself, tried to calm her tone, but the sparkle lingered in her eyes. "Really?"
Dhruv gave a small smile at her reaction. "Yeah. I've heard it's beautiful. The architecture, the history. I've always wanted to see it."
Her lips curved despite herself. "It is... beautiful." Memories rushed back—the cobbled streets, the spires cutting into the sky, the quiet libraries that smelled of paper and history. It had been her city, her world for those years. A hard world, yes, but also a place that had shaped her.
"Okay," she said softly, warmth creeping into her tone. "We'll go there."
He nodded, as if the decision had been sealed. "Perfect, then."
And with that, Dhruv pushed his chair back and stood. "I'll go check tickets. See what options we have."
Before she could say anything more, he disappeared into the bedroom, laptop in hand, leaving her sitting on the sofa, notebook untouched on her lap.
For a long moment, Vaani just sat still, listening to the faint sound of his footsteps, the click of the door closing behind him.
Then, almost unconsciously, she exhaled. A breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Her shoulders dropped, tension unwinding. For once, the knot in her chest loosened. She had said what she wanted. Just one thing. And he had agreed without question, without raising doubts about cost or practicality or effort. He had simply nodded and said, Okay, we'll go.
Vaani leaned back into the sofa, closing her eyes. Scotland. Oxford. For the first time in months, the thought of something ahead didn't feel like another weight. It felt like a small promise.
Maybe she could allow herself to look forward to it.
~·~
The weight of deadlines, project updates, and back-to-back emails had been pressing down on Vaani since morning.
The Abu Dhabi team had called twice, the new company had sent her three reminders about deliverables, and her notepad was filling up faster than she could cross things out.
By the time the afternoon sunlight stretched across the floor of her study, her shoulders ached and her mind felt heavy.
She rubbed her forehead, staring at the screen, when an unexpected thought nudged its way in: Take a break. Go home.
Her heart gave a little tug at the word. Home. Her family. She hadn't gone in days, though their house wasn't far. She always excused herself with work, with tiredness, with something that seemed pressing. But maybe today she didn't want an excuse.
Closing her laptop, she stood, stretching her stiff limbs. A quick change into a light kurti and jeans followed, something simple and comfortable. When she stepped into the hall, Dhruv was on the sofa, scrolling casually through his phone.
"I'm going to go meet my family," she said, her voice calm but purposeful.
He looked up, eyes flicking toward her. For a moment, he didn't reply, as though making sure he had heard right.
Then, impulsively, she added, "Do you want to come?"
His brows lifted. "What?"
"You want to come with me?" she repeated, softer this time, but steady.
There was a silence between them, stretched just long enough to feel noticeable. He studied her expression, as though weighing not just her words but what she wasn't saying. Finally, Dhruv set his phone aside and stood.
"Okay."
A faint surprise flickered across her features before she nodded. "Alright."
He disappeared into the bedroom, and within minutes returned, dressed in a pair of clean jeans and a crisp navy shirt. Simple, but the kind of simple that looked deliberate on him. "Let's go."
The drive began quietly. The hum of the car filled the silence, punctuated by the muted buzz of traffic outside. Vaani sat on the passenger side, her hands folded in her lap, watching buildings slip past the window.
Then, halfway through, Dhruv broke the quiet. "I've mapped the route from Scotland to Oxford," he said casually, eyes on the road. "I just need to book the flights."
Her head turned, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Oh." She nodded. "That's good."
For a moment she hesitated, then added, "Oxford is beautiful."
His mouth curved faintly, like he had expected her to say that. "Homecoming for you, isn't it?"
She chuckled under her breath, a light sound that surprised even her. "Yeah. It is."
The car slipped into a more comfortable silence after that. Her chest felt a little lighter.
Soon, the familiar neighborhood came into view. Dhruv parked outside the modest building, and together they walked up the steps. Vaani lifted her hand and knocked.
The door opened, and there stood Sunita, her mother, her face immediately lighting up. "Vaani! Arey, beta!" she exclaimed, pulling her daughter into a hug before even registering Dhruv at her side. Then her gaze flicked to him, her eyes widening pleasantly. "And you brought Dhruv too!"
Behind her, Vedant and Vihaan came rushing out, their energy like a sudden gust of wind.
"Tai!" Vihaan cried, throwing his arms around her waist.
Vedant wasn't far behind, hugging her shoulder tightly. "Finally, you came!"
Vaani laughed, the sound fuller than it had been in days, her arms wrapping around both her brothers. For a moment, work, projects, and deadlines slipped far away.
Dhruv stood a step back, watching quietly. Sunita's joy, the boys' exuberance, Vaani's soft smile—it was a scene that tugged at something in him. Not envy, exactly. More like curiosity, and something he couldn't name.
"Come in, come in," Sunita said warmly, ushering them both inside.
Inside, the familiar chaos of her family home greeted them—the faint smell of masala in the kitchen, a cricket commentary playing on the TV, shoes scattered at the doorway. Ramesh peeked from the living room, his face breaking into a smile when he saw them.
"Arre, Dhruv beta! Vaani! Come, sit!"
Vaani slipped off her sandals and walked in, her brothers still orbiting around her like satellites. Dhruv followed, quieter, but Sunita guided him toward the sofa with the same maternal ease she used on everyone.
As they all settled, Vaani felt that familiar comfort settle over her—the kind she rarely allowed herself to feel anymore. And somewhere in the corner of her eye, she caught Dhruv watching. Not intrusively. Just... noticing.
The TV blared with a cricket commentator's dramatic exclamations, but Ramesh quickly lowered the volume when he saw his daughter sit down.
"Finally, you remembered your parents," he teased, eyes crinkling.
"Baba..." Vaani laughed, half-apologetic, half-embarrassed. "I've just been so busy."
Vedant plopped himself onto the floor near her feet, shaking his head dramatically. "So busy, she forgets she has two brothers waiting to trouble her."
Vihaan leaned against her shoulder, adding with mock sternness, "Tai, you're never home! Are we that boring?"
Vaani ruffled his hair, smiling. "You both trouble me enough even without seeing me."
"Still," Sunita cut in, bustling from the kitchen to place a plate of cut fruit on the table, "you don't call, you don't visit... your mother has to complain." Her words carried a familiar scolding rhythm, but her eyes softened as they landed on her daughter.
Dhruv sat quietly through it all, his long frame relaxed but alert, taking in the scene. The way Vaani fit seamlessly here, how easily her shoulders dropped, how her laughter didn't sound restrained or measured like it sometimes did at home with him. She belonged in this warmth, in this chaos.
And yet, even in her comfort, he noticed—her phone was still in her lap, screen lighting up every few seconds with notifications. She didn't answer them, but her fingers twitched as though itching to.
Sunita finally noticed him sitting politely, and her face brightened again. "Dhruv beta, you must feel like we've forgotten you! Come, have something. You like chai?"
"Yes, Aunty," he said with a small nod. "But please, don't go to trouble."
"Arre, what trouble? For my damaad, nothing is trouble." She waved her hand dismissively and turned to call toward the kitchen. "Vedant, go make strong chai for everyone."
Vedant groaned, pretending to protest, but went anyway.
Vaani shot Dhruv a sideways glance, as though gauging how he was reacting to her mother's easy inclusion of him. He didn't seem fazed, only mildly amused, his eyes still lingering on her as if to say see, this is what you've been missing.
Vihaan wasn't about to let his sister off the hook though. He leaned closer, voice conspiratorial. "Tai, did you bring us anything?"
Vaani blinked. "Bring you—Vihaan!"
"Yes!" he said dramatically, clasping his chest. "When you go missing for days, at least gifts soften the blow."
"Gift, huh?" Dhruv said suddenly, his first interjection into the boys' chatter. His voice was calm, but his lips tugged upward slightly. "What do you usually get when she brings something?"
Vihaan's eyes widened, clearly not expecting Dhruv to join in. "Chocolate. Sometimes clothes."
Vedant came back in time to hear and added with a grin, "Mostly chocolate. But fancy ones. Imported."
Vaani covered her face, laughing. "Don't expose me in front of him, please."
But Dhruv's gaze lingered on her again, curious. Imported chocolates? He wondered quietly if these were more little costs she was carrying that she never mentioned to anyone.
Soon, chai arrived—piping hot, rich with cardamom. Sunita set it carefully on the table along with plates of bhajiyas, crispy and golden.
"Eat, eat," she insisted. "No dieting in this house."
They all gathered around the table. Vedant and Vihaan argued over who got the bigger bhajiya, Sunita fussed over how little Vaani was eating, Ramesh asked Dhruv polite questions about his work. Through it all, Dhruv watched silently, answering when required but mostly observing.
Vaani, for her part, kept smiling, nodding, engaging. But Dhruv noticed something else—whenever the conversation turned too lighthearted, too free, her eyes flicked back to her phone lying nearby, as though reminding herself she didn't deserve too much of a break.
At one point, Sunita reached over, taking her daughter's hand. "Vaani, you're getting thinner. Look at your face. Work, work, work. Is that all there is?"
Vaani squeezed her mother's hand gently, smiling to soften the worry. "Aai, I'm okay. Just projects finishing. It'll calm down."
"Hmm," Sunita muttered, clearly unconvinced. "Don't forget life is more than office."
Across the table, Dhruv's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Her mother's words echoed thoughts he himself had been circling for days.
After tea, Vedant pulled out his phone, showing Vaani some new game he had downloaded, insisting she try it.
Vihaan pestered her with stories about his university, each one more exaggerated than the last. Sunita and Ramesh, meanwhile, drew Dhruv into conversation about his family, asking about Jaya and Mahesh with genuine warmth.
"They're good," Dhruv said politely. "Ma keeps calling with new plans, as always."
Sunita laughed. "Mothers are all the same."
When she glanced at her daughter again, there was a hint of sadness in her smile. Vaani caught it, looked down at her hands, then back up with forced cheer. "Aai, Baba, I'll come more often. Promise."
"Hmm. You better," Ramesh said, though his eyes betrayed his relief at just having her here today.
As the afternoon stretched, the house settled into that familiar domestic rhythm. The TV droned in the background again, plates clinked as Sunita cleared them, and laughter filled the air whenever the brothers found another excuse to tease their sister.
Dhruv leaned back slightly, watching. He had never been particularly sentimental about such things, but there was something about this—about seeing Vaani soften, seeing her alive in her element—that stirred a strange mix in him. Warmth, but also questions.
How much of herself does she keep hidden when she's not here? Why does she carry so much alone?
He didn't have answers yet. But as Sunita fussed over sending them home with extra food, and the brothers begged for her to come again soon, Dhruv realized something: whatever else was going on with her, this was her anchor.
And perhaps, if he wanted to understand her, he'd have to keep coming back to this place too.
"Arre Vaani," she said, drawing out her daughter's name in that tone mothers use when they're about to embarrass you, "Jaya was telling me you two are planning your honeymoon."
The words landed in the middle of the room like a spark in dry grass. Vaani froze, mid-sip of chai, coughing as the hot liquid caught in her throat. Her cheeks flamed instantly, blooming red as if the word itself had lit her on fire.
"Aai!" she hissed softly, her voice a mixture of shock and protest.
Vedant and Vihaan's ears perked up immediately. "Honeymoon?" Vedant repeated, eyes wide with the thrill of forbidden gossip. "Tai, you didn't tell us!"
"Where are you going?" Vihaan asked eagerly, practically bouncing on the spot.
Dhruv, unbothered as ever, leaned back slightly against the sofa. His lips curved in the faintest smile at Vaani's mortified expression. He let the boys' questions fly for a moment before answering calmly, "We just finalized the cities today."
The two brothers practically jumped closer to him. "Where, Jiju? Tell us!" Vedant demanded.
Dhruv's eyes flicked briefly toward Vaani, whose face was still flushed as she buried it behind her teacup, avoiding all their gazes. With a small chuckle, he said simply, "Scotland and Oxford."
"Oxford?" Ramesh, who had been quietly listening from his armchair, raised his eyebrows with interest. "Isn't that your favorite city, Vaani? Did you pick that?"
The question made Vaani glance up quickly, caught between honesty and wanting to escape. But before she could fumble an answer, Dhruv's voice cut in smoothly. "No. Oxford was me. Scotland was her."
There was a ripple of reactions. Sunita smiled knowingly. Ramesh chuckled with quiet amusement. And Vedant and Vihaan? They practically exploded with excitement.
"Scotland!" Vedant exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "That's the place with castles, right? And mountains? And lakes?"
"Yes, Loch Ness monster!" Vihaan chimed in, his imagination firing. "Jiju, take us with you. We'll explore Scotland together. I'll even find Nessie!"
"Arre, shut up," Vedant smacked his brother's arm. "He's not going to take you. It's a honeymoon, idiot."
"But why not?" Vihaan argued, eyes widening with mock innocence. "If they love us, they'll take us."
Vaani groaned, pressing her hand over her face. "You two... Aai, control them!"
But Sunita was laughing, delighted at the chaos. "Let them dream, Vaani. At least they're showing interest in you two for once. Usually they're lost in their own worlds."
Dhruv watched it all unfold with a kind of quiet amusement. The boys' energy was relentless, their teasing fearless. Vaani's embarrassment only seemed to encourage them more.
"Jiju," Vedant said seriously, turning back to Dhruv, "tell me honestly. Scotland—are you going to those cliffy places? Like the ones in movies?"
"Maybe," Dhruv said, amused by the intensity of the boy's expression. "We haven't decided the exact route yet."
"I'll send you my list," Vedant announced proudly. "Best places to see in Scotland. Then when I go someday, you'll be my guide."
"Guide!" Vihaan snorted. "He'll be on his honeymoon, not taking notes for your trip."
"Shut up," Vedant muttered again, though his grin betrayed him.
Across the room, Ramesh leaned back, shaking his head fondly. "Oxford, though. That's something, Vaani. You never stop talking about that city whenever the UK comes up. It's... fitting, in a way, that you'll go back there."
Vaani's throat tightened faintly. Oxford. The city she had walked through as a student, carrying books heavier than her body could handle, running between classes and part-time jobs, never pausing to enjoy its beauty. She swallowed and managed a soft, "Yes, Baba. It'll be nice to see it again."
Dhruv, watching her carefully, noticed the subtle shift in her expression. That tiny flicker of something unspoken—nostalgia, maybe, or a pang of regret. He filed it away silently, another piece of the puzzle that was Vaani.
Meanwhile, the brothers weren't done.
"Jiju, tell us about Oxford too," Vihaan piped up. "What's there?"
Before Dhruv could answer, Vaani cut in quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from her burning cheeks. "Libraries, old buildings, colleges, rivers... it's beautiful."
"Libraries!" Vedant groaned. "Boring. Scotland sounds way better."
"You're boring," Vihaan retorted instantly.
"Stop fighting," Sunita scolded lightly, though her eyes were twinkling. She turned back to Dhruv. "Beta, you chose Oxford? Any reason, or just curiosity?"
Dhruv gave a small smile, his tone even. "I've heard it's beautiful. And..." he glanced at Vaani briefly, then back at her mother, "...I wanted to see the place that shaped Vaani so much."
The room quieted for a second at his words. Vaani froze, her eyes darting to him, heart giving a strange, quick jolt. She hadn't expected that answer.
Ramesh broke the silence with a warm chuckle. "Good. That's a thoughtful choice."
But Vedant wasn't letting sentiment win. "Still not fair," he grumbled. "If you're going to Scotland and Oxford, you should at least bring us souvenirs."
"Yes!" Vihaan clapped. "At least chocolate. Imported ones, okay, Jiju?"
Vaani groaned again, "You two are impossible."
The room dissolved into laughter once more, the conversation drifting from Nessie to football teams in the UK to whether Dhruv could survive Scottish weather without shivering to death.
Through it all, Dhruv remained calm, indulging the brothers when they pestered him, answering Ramesh's occasional questions, acknowledging Sunita's suggestions about what clothes to pack. And Vaani, though embarrassed, slowly began to relax into it too.
For a moment, it felt like they weren't two people still learning how to coexist, but simply part of this boisterous family gathering, their lives woven naturally into its threads.
And yet, as laughter echoed around her, Vaani couldn't shake the warmth that had spread in her chest when Dhruv had said he wanted to see Oxford because of her. She pushed the thought away quickly, but it lingered anyway, stubborn as ever.
~·~
The hum of the car filled the quiet evening, headlights slicing through Dubai's smooth roads as they drove back from Vaani's parents' place. The laughter of her brothers still echoed faintly in her ears, but now, with only the two of them in the car, the silence felt heavier, more intimate.
Vaani sat angled toward the window, fingers fiddling with the end of her kurta, as if searching for the right words. Finally, she broke the silence, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
"I'm... I'm sorry about Vedant and Vihaan."
Dhruv glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "Why?"
"They get too excited," she admitted, sighing. "They talk too much, they don't think before they say things... it gets very annoying sometimes. I'm used to it, but I know you aren't. And I didn't want you to feel—"
"Vaani."
The way he said her name — firm, but not harsh — made her pause mid-sentence. She turned slightly, unsure.
"It's alright," Dhruv said simply, his hand relaxed on the steering wheel. Then, almost like an afterthought, his lips curved faintly as he added, "If anything, it was... entertaining. At least now I know where you get your habit of overthinking from."
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
He chuckled under his breath, not even looking at her, his tone deliberately casual. "Your brothers don't stop talking... and you don't stop worrying."
For a second, Vaani just stared at him, caught completely off guard. Heat crept up her neck, though she tried hard to cover it with indignation. "That's not— I don't—"
"Mhmm," Dhruv hummed, amused, clearly enjoying her flustered state. Then, with a sly glance sideways, he added, "But don't worry. I don't mind a little noise... especially if it comes from you."
Her breath caught. The words weren't outright bold, but the undercurrent in his tone made her pulse skip. She looked away quickly, fixing her gaze firmly on the blur of streetlights outside the window, hoping he didn't notice the way her ears had turned pink.
Dhruv said nothing more, returning his focus to the road with that maddening calm of his, as if he hadn't just dropped a line that left her reeling.
Vaani bit her lip, heart drumming louder than the car engine.
Silence returned, but it wasn't the heavy silence from before. It was charged, humming with something unspoken — something she wasn't sure how to name.
She cleared her throat, searching desperately for a distraction. "Um... so... you said you'd book the tickets soon?"
Dhruv's lips curved — just slightly, enough to tell her he'd noticed her attempt to change the subject. "Mm," he replied, deliberately noncommittal.
She frowned, glancing at him quickly. "What does 'mm' mean? Yes? No? Did you—"
"I said I'll book them," Dhruv cut in, calm as ever. Then, with a sidelong glance, he added, "But I didn't know you were so eager. Can't wait to escape with me, is it?"
Her mouth dropped open. "That's not— I just meant—"
He smirked, eyes still on the road. "Relax, I was joking."
But Vaani could feel her face heating again. "You're... impossible."
"And you," Dhruv said smoothly, his voice lower now, "are very easy to tease."
That shut her up completely. She turned back toward the window, pretending to be engrossed in the city lights, though her heart was thudding uncomfortably fast. Why was he doing this?
Dhruv had always been... steady, controlled.
But tonight, there was something different in his tone, in the way his eyes lingered when they flicked toward her.
Almost as if he enjoyed watching her squirm.
After a few beats, Vaani tried again, her voice quieter. "I... I wasn't trying to escape. I just wanted to make sure everything's sorted. You know how I am."
"I know," Dhruv said softly, surprising her. "You carry too much on your head. Always worrying for everyone. Your brothers, your parents, work..." He trailed off, then added, "Sometimes, you should just... let yourself breathe."
She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. Turning toward him, she opened her mouth to respond, but the words got tangled in her throat.
Before she could gather herself, Dhruv's voice dropped lower, almost a murmur. "But don't worry, I don't mind being the one to remind you."
Her pulse skipped. She stared at him, but he kept his eyes trained on the road, his expression maddeningly unreadable.
Vaani looked away quickly, pressing her palms together in her lap, her heartbeat a drum. She hated how flustered he made her feel. She hated more that a part of her... didn't hate it at all.
The rest of the drive passed in that same charged silence — neither speaking, both lost in thoughts they wouldn't dare voice.
When the car finally rolled to a stop outside their building, Vaani almost sighed with relief.
"Home," Dhruv said quietly, glancing at her just once before stepping out.
And in that look, brief as it was, she caught it — the glint of something unspoken, something that unsettled and warmed her at the same time.
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