27
The next morning, the city was still asleep when the cab pulled up in front of the airport at 5:30 a.m. The air was cool, carrying that faint pre-dawn stillness, and Vaani tugged her sweatshirt closer to herself as she stepped out of the car with her small carry-on.
She had dressed simply—jeans, sneakers, a loose sweatshirt, her hair pulled back into a casual ponytail.
She looked like any other young traveler, though the faint excitement in her eyes betrayed that this trip meant more than just sightseeing.
Dhruv stepped out from the other side, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag across his shoulder.
He was dressed similarly, in a dark sweatshirt and jeans, looking neat, understated, and.
.. effortlessly composed, as always. His hair was slightly ruffled from the early start, but he didn't look even a bit tired.
He closed the cab door, checked their luggage quickly, and then gestured for her to lead the way.
Vaani noticed right away how he moved into action without hesitation.
At the check-in counters, he rolled their luggage forward, spoke to the staff, handed over their passports, and navigated the process with quiet confidence.
He didn't say much, but his body language carried an ease that suggested this was second nature to him—almost like an inbuilt function.
She found herself quietly observing him, realizing that all she needed to do was follow his lead.
She had traveled plenty on her own before, but this felt... different. With Dhruv there, she didn't have to overthink. He was already anticipating the next step—boarding passes, security, even making sure she had her ID tucked safely into her sling bag.
"Vaani, passport," he said simply, holding out his hand when they needed it. She handed it over without a word, and he returned it to her with equal efficiency, no fuss.
The entire check-in process, usually something that made her slightly anxious, passed without a hitch. By the time they reached the security check and then the waiting area, Vaani realized she hadn't had to make a single decision. Dhruv had just... handled it.
And for once, she felt good not having to make the decisions.
They found seats near the boarding gate, a row of chairs where the early-morning travelers sat slumped with coffees and earphones.
Dhruv placed his bag by his feet, leaned back in the chair, and checked his phone briefly.
Vaani sat beside him, clutching her water bottle and glancing around.
She felt oddly calm—because he was calm.
"You're quiet," she said softly, breaking the silence after a while.
Dhruv glanced at her and gave a faint smile. "It's early," he replied. "And I like airports better when I don't talk too much."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
"Because things move smoother when you just... keep doing instead of explaining." His answer was simple, but the way he said it made her think. She nodded slowly, glancing down at her own hands.
For a while, they sat in silence, just watching the bustle around them—the families with kids trying not to cry, the young men carrying heavy backpacks, the older couples with matching suitcases.
Vaani found herself stealing a glance at Dhruv every now and then.
He wasn't fidgeting or restless like some travelers were.
He just sat there, calm, present, waiting for the next step.
When the boarding announcement finally came over the intercom, Dhruv rose instantly, picking up both his bag and hers without asking. Vaani blinked, about to protest, but he had already slung her backpack over his shoulder.
"You don't have to—" she started.
"I know," he said simply. "But I am."
She didn't argue further. Instead, she followed him as he led them through the queue, scanning their passes, and down the jet bridge toward the plane.
Inside the aircraft, the cabin smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant, the overhead bins clattering open as passengers struggled to fit their luggage.
Dhruv glanced at their seat numbers, gestured for her to go ahead, and they slid into their row.
His ticket had him at the window, hers right next to him in the middle seat.
Vaani adjusted her sweatshirt and sat down carefully, placing her sling bag under the seat in front of her. Dhruv settled next to the window, his arm resting easily on the armrest, gaze shifting briefly to the view outside—the faint orange glow of sunrise just beginning to peek over the runway.
For a moment, Vaani was hyper-aware of their closeness, the narrowness of the seats, the way his presence seemed to anchor her in a space that otherwise might have felt cramped. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tried to focus on fastening her seatbelt.
The airplane cabin had settled into its quiet rhythm after boarding—passengers sliding into their seats, flight attendants directing traffic, the overhead bins shutting with muffled thuds.
Vaani had tucked herself neatly into the middle seat, adjusting her sweatshirt and scrolling through the in-flight entertainment screen.
Dhruv sat to her left by the window, his posture relaxed, one hand resting loosely on his lap as he glanced out at the faint sunrise glow over the runway.
A few minutes later, the aisle seat—on Vaani's right—was filled.
A man in his early forties, perhaps, carrying a leather briefcase and smelling faintly of cologne, slipped into the space with a muttered "Excuse me.
" Vaani gave a polite smile, the small automatic kind one gives to strangers in close proximity, and then went back to her movie browsing. Nothing unusual.
But as the aircraft doors closed and the cabin crew began their safety routine, the man adjusted himself in his seat, leaning slightly to one side.
His shoulder brushed a little too close against Vaani's armrest, not aggressively, but enough for her to notice.
She stilled for a second, pressing her lips together.
It wasn't anything overt, she told herself.
Just the cramped seating. Planes weren't exactly built for comfort.
Still... she shifted slightly, pulling her elbow inward, shrinking into her space.
Dhruv had been watching quietly. His gaze slid from the window, to Vaani's subtle movement, then to the man beside her.
It was almost imperceptible—the way his brows drew together for a second.
He didn't speak immediately. He simply observed, as if gauging whether she was genuinely uncomfortable or just imagining it.
Vaani, meanwhile, tried to focus on the movie list on the screen before her. Her thumb scrolled past Bollywood titles, then Hollywood action films. But her shoulders were a little tense, her body angled slightly toward Dhruv.
"Vaani," Dhruv's voice cut in softly, deliberate.
She blinked, turning her head. "Yeah?"
He met her gaze evenly. "You want the window seat?"
Her eyes widened just a fraction. For a moment she didn't answer. She wasn't sure if he had noticed, or if he was just offering casually. Her lips parted, then closed again. Finally, she gave the smallest nod. "...Okay."
Without another word, Dhruv unbuckled his seatbelt, rose halfway, and gestured for her to slide out.
She did, a little flustered, clutching her sweatshirt as she sidestepped past him.
He switched positions smoothly, sliding into the middle seat beside the man.
Once she settled into the window seat, Dhruv adjusted himself, clicked his seatbelt again, and gave the aisle passenger a polite, neutral smile—nothing more than courtesy.
The man nodded back vaguely, opening a newspaper. The boundary was reestablished.
Vaani leaned back into her seat, exhaling quietly.
The window was cold against her arm, but it was safe.
She pulled her knees in slightly, feeling space she hadn't a few moments earlier.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Dhruv settling with an air of quiet finality, his posture angled just enough to form a subtle shield between her and the aisle.
He didn't speak about it. Didn't make it obvious. Just... handled it.
She turned her face toward the glass, eyes wandering over the tarmac where ground staff scurried about, but her mind wasn't on the view.
Instead, it lingered on him. The way he'd caught on instantly, the ease with which he'd intervened, the complete absence of drama in his gesture.
He hadn't questioned her, hadn't asked why, hadn't even waited for her to explain.
Just one line—You want the window seat? —and it was done.
For a moment, warmth bloomed low in her chest, mixed with a strange flutter of gratitude she didn't know how to express.
She fiddled with the edge of her sweatshirt sleeve, sneaking a glance at him.
He was scrolling idly through the flight's entertainment menu now, as if nothing had happened.
His profile was calm, unreadable, but the set of his shoulders told her he was fully aware.
"Thanks," she murmured under her breath, not sure if he'd even hear over the faint hum of the engines.
But he did. His lips curved, just slightly, not even a full smile—more like an acknowledgment. He didn't look at her, though. Just tapped the screen, selecting a random movie.
The flight attendants began their final checks, walking down the aisles briskly. The man beside Dhruv leaned back into his seat, reading glasses perched on his nose, fully absorbed in his paper now. Vaani relaxed by degrees, resting her head against the cool plastic of the window.
The plane began its slow taxi. She adjusted her seatbelt, fingers brushing over the buckle, and then felt it again—the faint press of Dhruv's elbow against hers. Not intrusive. Not demanding. Just... there. A quiet reassurance in the narrow, cramped world of the economy cabin.
The engines roared, and the plane lurched forward into takeoff. Vaani's stomach dipped slightly at the speed, but this time, her focus wasn't on the nerves. It was on the steady presence next to her—the unspoken understanding, the quiet way Dhruv had stepped in without a single fuss.
By the time they were airborne, climbing through cotton-thick clouds, she had almost forgotten the earlier discomfort. She exhaled slowly, tilting her head to the side. Outside, the horizon blazed with morning light, streaks of pink and gold breaking through the blue.
Her reflection in the window looked calmer now, though her heart was still catching up. She bit her lip, glancing sideways at Dhruv again. He was watching the screen in front of him, earbuds already in, expression neutral as if the seat-switch had been the most ordinary thing in the world.
But for Vaani... it wasn't ordinary at all.
It was the kind of thing that lingered. The kind of thing you carried with you quietly, like a small weight in the chest, soft and significant.
She turned back to the window before he could catch her looking, but her fingers, resting lightly in her lap, curled inward just slightly. A silent acknowledgment of the unspoken—one she couldn't put into words yet.
And for the rest of the takeoff, she didn't feel the cramped seat, or the noise, or the nerves of travel. She only felt the calm of knowing someone had seen her discomfort... and done something about it without making her ask.
The cabin had settled into its mid-flight rhythm: the gentle hum of the engines, trays of meals being cleared away, the flicker of entertainment screens across rows.
Dhruv and Vaani sat in their row quietly, each absorbed in their chosen movies.
Vaani had started with a Hindi drama, her head tilted slightly, the dim glow of the screen reflecting in her eyes.
Dhruv had opted for a thriller, but even as it played, his attention drifted now and then toward her—subtle glances, nothing overt.
It was sometime after the meal that he noticed her movements slowing.
Her hand, which had been fiddling with her sleeve, stilled.
Her eyes blinked slower, heavier, until finally, her lashes rested against her cheeks.
She had fallen asleep, though her posture remained awkward—head tipped just slightly forward, threatening to slip to one side with the jolt of turbulence.
Dhruv shifted slightly in his seat. He didn't speak, didn't wake her. Instead, with practiced ease, he angled his shoulders, leaned a fraction closer, making a subtle slope with his posture. It wasn't dramatic—just enough so that if she drifted, she'd have somewhere to land.
And land she did. Within minutes, her head found its place against him, resting gently on his shoulder.
Dhruv froze for a second, instinctively aware of the weight.
But as he turned his head slightly, he caught the calm in her sleeping face—the slow rhythm of her breathing, the small crease between her brows that was now relaxed. Something inside him unclenched too.
He let out a quiet breath, his own body easing into the moment. He angled his arm so she wouldn't slip, so she'd remain steady. The hum of the plane faded into background noise as his gaze dropped, inevitably, to her left hand.
Her fingers rested loosely on her lap, but the glint of the silver small diamond caught his eye. Their wedding ring. His ring on her hand.
For a moment, Dhruv just stared. It wasn't a possessive thing, not in the crude sense.
It was subtler—an acknowledgment that she carried a part of him in the world now, a marker of a bond they had stepped into together.
A quiet claim, yes, but one laced with responsibility more than ownership.
She wore his ring, and he wore hers.
Married. The thought felt both weighty and grounding.
As if on cue, the man in the aisle seat, who had been quietly reading, lowered his paper. He cast a glance at the two of them—Vaani asleep, Dhruv sitting steady with her head on his shoulder. His lips curved into a knowing smile.
"First time traveling together?" the man asked softly, so as not to disturb Vaani.
Dhruv blinked, turning his head slightly, polite but measured. Then he gave a small smile back. "Yeah. How did you know?"
The man chuckled under his breath. "Just had a feeling."
Dhruv's brow lifted faintly, but his smile remained. "Is that so?"
"Mm," the man nodded, tucking his newspaper away. Then he tilted his head curiously. "So, you two married? Or... boyfriend-girlfriend?"
Dhruv didn't hesitate. His voice came even, firm but polite. "We're married. Got married three weeks back."
The man's eyes warmed, his smile widening. "Congratulations. Newlyweds, then. That explains it."
"Thank you," Dhruv said, inclining his head slightly.
The man leaned back in his seat, clearly not one to pry too much but happy to make conversation. "Where are you two headed? Honeymoon?"
Dhruv chuckled softly, careful not to shift Vaani. "Yeah. Scotland, then Oxford."
"Ah, the north and south blend." The man's tone brightened. "Beautiful choice. I went with my wife years ago—we visited the Highlands. Still some of the most breathtaking views I've seen."
Dhruv nodded, listening with an easy smile. "We're looking forward to it. It's her first time in Scotland."
"Then she's in for something special," the man said knowingly. "Waterfalls, cliffs, green as far as the eye can see... If you can, take a local tour into the smaller towns. The charm of Scotland isn't just the landscapes—it's the people too."
"I'll keep that in mind," Dhruv replied politely, filing the suggestion away, "So, what's taking you to Edinburgh?" Dhruv asked.
The man smiled, adjusting his glasses. "Work trip, actually. A conference. But—" his expression softened—"my daughter is studying there, so I thought I'd extend it and visit her as well. Haven't seen her in almost 3/4 months. Feels like it's been forever."
Dhruv's lips curved, a small, genuine smile. "That must be nice. She'll be glad to have you around."
"Oh, very much," the man chuckled. "She keeps saying she's drowning in assignments, but I know she just wants someone to cook for her."
Dhruv let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "That sounds familiar. Students away from home always miss home food the most."
"Exactly," the man nodded. "And you? What line of work are you in?"
"Operations," Dhruv replied simply, keeping his tone even. "Mostly product management. Travel comes with the job sometimes."
"Ah, finance," the man said knowingly. "Numbers don't lie, do they? But they also don't sleep."
"That's true," Dhruv said, lips quirking faintly. "And you? Apart from conferences?"
"Consulting. Been at it for twenty years," the man said with a weary smile. "Now it feels more like babysitting younger associates than actual work."
Dhruv chuckled softly, nodding in quiet agreement. "I can imagine."
The conversation trailed into a few more exchanges—light, harmless, the kind of random chatter that passes the time. Dhruv kept his voice easy, polite, while always aware of the weight resting against his shoulder.
Eventually, the man leaned back, pulling his blanket up. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to your movie. Enjoy your trip, young man. Scotland will be good to you both."
Dhruv inclined his head, murmuring, "Thank you," before settling back himself, eyes drifting once again to the sleeping figure beside him.
The man seemed content with the brief exchange, leaning back and closing his eyes as if to rest. Dhruv turned his attention forward again, his lips twitching into a faint smile.
The conversation had been short, but there was something grounding in it.
Hearing it said aloud—we're married, three weeks back—made it feel even more real.
Not just a word, but a truth carried into the world.
He glanced down again at Vaani. She shifted slightly in her sleep, curling closer into the fabric of his sweatshirt, her hair brushing against his jaw. He didn't move away. Instead, he angled his arm again, careful, steady, almost instinctive now.
The movie on his screen played on, but Dhruv wasn't watching anymore. His focus was elsewhere—on the warmth against his shoulder, the ring on her hand, the quiet acknowledgment from a stranger that what they had was visible even without words.
And somewhere between the roar of the engines and the quiet rhythm of her breathing, Dhruv found himself wondering—if three weeks of marriage already looked like this, what would three years feel like? Ten?
The thought lingered, soft but steady, as the plane carried them higher through the morning sky.
~·~
The hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin with that low, constant vibration that made sleep both easier and heavier.
Vaani stirred softly, her eyelids fluttering open as she adjusted to the dim cabin light.
For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was, still caught in that in-between haze of deep sleep and the awareness of movement around her.
Her cheek felt warm against something firm. When she finally blinked herself fully awake, realization hit—she had been leaning against Dhruv's shoulder.
She froze. Her breath caught as she tilted her head slightly.
He was fast asleep, head tilted slightly toward hers, his chest rising and falling evenly.
His features looked calmer in sleep—none of that composed restraint he usually carried during the day.
His jaw was relaxed, lips parted faintly.
Vaani's eyes softened without her meaning to, but then guilt quickly crept in.
Oh God, she thought. I must have been leaning on him this whole time. He probably hasn't been able to sleep properly because of me.
Carefully, almost as though handling glass, she shifted away from him, straightening in her seat. She moved slow enough so as not to jolt him awake. When she was free of the accidental contact, she exhaled quietly, relieved but still feeling that gnaw of guilt.
Her eyes drifted to the window, and instantly, her mood lightened. The shades of morning sky were painting themselves over the horizon, soft streaks of orange and pale gold touching the clouds. She pulled the shade up a little more, careful not to wake him, and her heart fluttered.
Without thinking too much, she reached for her phone. She held it up, angling slightly and began taking pictures of the sky outside. Each one looked more beautiful than the last—the golden streaks, the scatter of clouds, the endless horizon stretching forward.
For the first time in days, Vaani felt... weightless. There wasn't an email or a deadline in her hand. Just the world outside, vast and beautiful.
She tried to capture the details—the way the wing of the airplane cut cleanly against the backdrop, the shimmer of light bouncing off its metallic surface. She clicked a small video too, her lips curling into a soft smile as she whispered under her breath, "Wow..."
It was such a silly, instinctive reaction, but the kind she hadn't had the space for lately. A pure moment of awe.
After a while, when her gallery had filled with images she knew Vedant and Vihaan would force her to send later, she sat back down and placed the phone in her lap.
Dhruv was still asleep beside her, his hand resting loosely over his phone, his other arm bent just slightly across his lap.
He looked comfortable enough, and the guilt inside her eased a little.
Still, she decided not to lean again, no matter how tired she felt.
Instead, she tapped the touchscreen on the seatback in front of her, scrolling through the movie catalog.
A handful of options popped up—old Hindi comedies, a couple of Hollywood action flicks, some romantic dramas.
She hovered for a bit before finally settling on something lighthearted.
As the opening credits rolled, she adjusted her headphones, curling one leg slightly under the other.
Every now and then, she'd glance at the window again, unable to stop herself from peeking at the shifting light outside.
The movie played, but her attention kept drifting—half to the sky, half to the fact that Dhruv's shoulder still held the faint warmth of where she had rested.
Time slipped by quietly.
Soon, a crackle of the intercom came on, the captain announcing in a clipped British accent, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Edinburgh.
Local time is 11:05 AM, and the weather is cloudy with temperatures around eleven degrees Celsius.
Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. "
The cabin stirred with movement—flight attendants walking briskly, passengers adjusting trays and seats upright. Vaani pressed closer to the window, excitement curling through her chest.
And then, she saw it.
Beneath the scattered clouds, the land came into view. Edinburgh spread out like a painting, its rooftops a patchwork of grey and brown stone, broken up by rolling hills that stretched into the distance. The faint outline of Arthur's Seat rose proudly in the distance, jagged against the horizon.
Her lips parted unconsciously. Her smile grew wide, bright—the kind of smile she hadn't realized she'd lost over the past few weeks. She lifted her phone again quickly, snapping more pictures, unable to resist.
The city looked magical from above, its streets winding like stories waiting to be told. The deep green patches of countryside pressed right against the edge of urban sprawl, and beyond it, glimmers of water—Firth of Forth sparkling under the sunlight.
Vaani leaned forward eagerly, almost pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Her chest bubbled with excitement, a kind of childlike joy she hadn't felt in a long time.
Beside her, Dhruv stirred awake, his lashes lifting slowly. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the brightness seeping in through the window. The first thing he noticed was her—leaning toward the window, her phone in hand, her face lit with genuine delight.
For a long second, he just watched.
Her eyes were wide, bright, alive. Her lips moved soundlessly, as if she was whispering to herself, caught between awe and disbelief. The smile she wore wasn't polite, wasn't reserved—it was raw, unfiltered. It hit him with surprising force, the warmth of it tugging something deep in his chest.
She looked... happy.
And though Dhruv didn't say anything, though his expression stayed carefully composed, a small flicker of warmth spread quietly through him.
He shifted slightly, stretching his arms as if to shake the sleep off, and she noticed out of the corner of her eye.
"Oh, you're awake," she said softly, turning toward him for a second. Her smile lingered as she gestured toward the window. "Look! We're almost there. Isn't it beautiful?"
He leaned just a little to glance outside, giving the city a measured look. "Hmm," he hummed lightly. "It is."
But his eyes weren't on the rooftops or the hills. They returned to her, watching the way her smile refused to fade, the way her fingers kept tapping on her phone to capture the view again and again.
Dhruv didn't say it aloud, but in that quiet moment, he decided—he liked seeing her like this. Excited. Alive. Unburdened.
So, instead of teasing or commenting, he simply leaned back into his seat, letting her have her moment fully.
Vaani, lost in the landscape outside, didn't notice the subtle shift in his gaze. She just continued staring out the window, her heart beating with anticipation as the airplane dipped lower, closer, the details of Edinburgh sharpening in view.
~·~
The plane landed smoothly, the soft thud of the wheels hitting the Edinburgh runway waking up anyone who might have dozed off during the descent.
Vaani's heart raced a little with excitement as she looked out of the window, watching the ground come closer and closer, the Scottish landscape unfolding beneath her.
She clutched her phone in her hand, capturing one last photo before the seatbelt sign dinged and everyone began gathering their things.
The usual chaos of landing began: passengers unbuckling their seatbelts too soon, flight attendants making announcements, people scrambling to open overhead bins.
Dhruv stood up calmly, not in any rush, pulling down their carry-ons with a measured ease.
Vaani adjusted her sweatshirt and brushed her hair back, trying to hide the small grin she couldn't wipe off her face.
Scotland, she thought. Finally.
They went through immigration, the line moving slowly but steadily.
Dhruv handled the passports, passing them to the officer with that quiet, composed authority he carried everywhere.
Vaani stood beside him, silent, watching the efficiency with which he managed the whole thing—no hesitation, no fumbling.
It was strange, how natural it seemed for him to take the lead in moments like this, as though it was simply second nature.
Once they were stamped in, they moved toward baggage claim.
The carousel had started spinning, and people were gathering in clusters, waiting.
Vaani stood quietly, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder, when Dhruv suddenly turned to her.
Once they got their bags, Dhruv pulled the trolley as they walked towards the exist, until he stopped.
"One minute," he said, his voice low but firm.
She frowned slightly, confused, but then saw where his gaze had landed: the man from their flight, the one who had been seated next to her earlier. He was waiting patiently for his bag, standing alone, his hands folded neatly in front of him.
Without hesitation, Dhruv walked toward him. Vaani blinked and followed silently, curious.
Dhruv approached the man with his usual composed politeness. Extending his hand, he said warmly, "I didn't get your name on the flight."
The man's face lit up with a friendly smile as he reached out and shook Dhruv's hand firmly. "Raghav," he said. "My name is Raghav."
"Dhruv," he introduced himself with a nod. "It was nice meeting you, Sir. I hope you enjoy your time here with your daughter."
Raghav's smile deepened, his eyes crinkling. "Thank you. And you two enjoy your trip as well. Scotland is magical—you'll love it."
It was then that Raghav's gaze shifted past Dhruv, landing on Vaani, who had been standing just a step behind. Dhruv followed his glance, and with a faint softness in his tone, he added, "Ah, this is my wife, Vaani."
Vaani offered a polite smile and a small nod. "Hi."
"Hello," Raghav greeted warmly. Then, his eyes brightened slightly with recognition. "Your husband mentioned this is your first time here. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. And the weather is perfect—not too cold, not too hot either."
Vaani chuckled lightly, glancing briefly at the window in the distance before looking back. "Yes, it's beautiful already," she said earnestly.
Raghav tilted his head, curious. "First time in the UK?"
Vaani shook her head. "No. I did my undergrad and postgrad in the UK. But I never had the chance to visit Scotland."
"Oh?" Raghav's brows lifted with genuine interest. "Where did you study?"
"I did my undergrad at UCL," Vaani replied, her voice modest, "and postgrad at Oxford."
Raghav let out a soft, impressed laugh, glancing at Dhruv as though he had just stumbled upon some delightful secret. "Oh wow. Your wife is a smart one."
Vaani instantly felt her cheeks warm. Her fingers curled slightly into the strap of her backpack as she blushed. Almost instinctively, she murmured, "He's smart as well. He's done both his degrees at Ivies in the US."
Dhruv gave her a sidelong look, the faintest smile tugging at his lips at her quick defense, but he said nothing.
Raghav, however, perked up. "Oh really? Where, if you don't mind me asking?"
Dhruv's lips curved into a small, polite chuckle. "Undergrad at Columbia. Postgrad at Berkeley."
Raghav gave a short laugh, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "I can already tell the brains your children will be born with," he said with good-natured humor.
The words made Vaani's eyes dart down instantly, her face heating even more. She didn't dare look at Dhruv, afraid of what expression he might be wearing.
Raghav, amused by her shy reaction, chuckled. Then, after a beat, his tone softened. "Vaani, if it's not too much trouble... could I connect you with my daughter? She's applying for her master's at UCL, and I think she could really use some support from someone who's been through it."
Vaani didn't even hesitate. "Of course," she said warmly, smiling again. "I'd love to help."
Without fumbling, she quickly unlocked her phone and offered her number. Raghav typed it down gratefully.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I'll let her know. Her name is Khushi. She'll contact you soon."
"No problem at all," Vaani assured him.
Just then, the carousel beeped and began moving, the first suitcases sliding out. Raghav glanced back at it, then looked at both of them again. "It was really lovely meeting you both. Enjoy your trip. Scotland will give you memories for a lifetime."
"Thank you," Dhruv said with a nod.
Vaani gave a small wave. "Bye."
Raghav retrieved his bag soon after, waving once more as he disappeared into the crowd.
Dhruv turned back to her, his expression unreadable but calm. "You ready?" he asked.
She nodded, smiling softly. "Yes."
And together, they moved back toward the carousel, waiting for their bags, the buzz of Edinburgh already pressing itself into the edges of their journey.
??