68
The next morning, Vaani woke up with a strange lightness in her chest. For the first time in weeks, there wasn't that knot of unease sitting in her stomach.
Last night's conversation with Dhruv played in her mind like a soft echo—the way he had listened, the way he had steadied her when her voice trembled, the way he'd simply said, talk, Vaani.
She lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, realizing how different she felt. It wasn't just relief. It was admiration. Admiration for the calmness he carried, for how he never raised his voice, for how he'd known exactly when to push and when to just sit with her silence.
She finally got up, tied her hair in a messy bun, and walked into the bathroom for a shower.
The warm water cascaded over her, and she leaned against the cool tiles, closing her eyes.
Somewhere in the midst of the rushing water and her own thoughts, Dhruv's face came to her—serious, steady, that quiet intensity in his eyes when he'd said, You can tell me anything. Just tell me. That's all I want.
Her lips curved into a smile, a soft, almost shy one.
Am I... falling for him?
The thought startled her, but instead of panic, it brought a strange calm. She thought about how she felt around him lately, how safe, how aware. Every sign was pointing that way. And instead of pushing it away, she just let the thought sit there, smiling to herself as the water washed over her.
When she came out, towel-drying her hair, she felt.
.. different. Lighter. Softer. She padded into the kitchen, humming under her breath, and put the kettle on.
The smell of boiling chai leaves filled the space, grounding and familiar.
She poured the steaming liquid into two mugs and carried them to the table, sitting down with her own.
She was midway through her first sip when she heard the sound of a door opening.
A few seconds later, Dhruv emerged from his room, hair still damp, wearing a plain grey t-shirt and black track pants.
Freshly showered, there was an understated sharpness about him—like he didn't even need to try, yet somehow looked put together.
"Good morning," he said, his voice low but carrying across the room easily.
Vaani looked up at him, smile tugging at her lips. "Good morning."
He stepped closer, noticing the second cup she pushed toward him. He picked it up, eyes flicking to her smile, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Chai?"
"Of course," she said simply.
He took a sip, then leaned back against the counter. His eyes flicked to her again. "You good?" he asked, tone calm but probing, as though he already suspected the answer.
"Yes," she said quickly, almost too quickly, then softened her voice. "Yes, I am."
Something about the way she said it—genuine, unburdened—made him study her for a moment longer. She wasn't just saying it. She meant it.
They sat in silence for a bit, sipping their chai, the morning sun filtering through the curtains. Then, unable to hold it back, Vaani placed her cup down and looked at him. "Dhruv?"
"Yes," he replied, without looking away.
"Thank you... for yesterday."
His gaze softened slightly. "I think I should be the one thanking you," he said. "For opening up."
Her cheeks warmed at that, and she looked down at her cup, smiling faintly. Dhruv chuckled under his breath at her shyness, shaking his head before taking another sip.
Vaani looked up again, her eyes glinting with mischief now. "Acha, tell me one thing."
"Pucho," he said simply, lifting his cup.
She scooted a little closer, resting her elbow on the table, chin propped on her hand. "Did you miss me?"
He froze for a second, his eyes shifting to her, unreadable.
"What do you think?" he asked after a pause, deflecting, as always.
Vaani narrowed her eyes. "Dhruv, I'm the one asking the questions, not you."
A small, amused hum escaped him. "Hmm."
She gasped dramatically. "Are you a cow?"
His brow furrowed, startled. "What?"
"Have I married a cow?" she repeated, widening her eyes for emphasis.
He blinked, confused but clearly holding back a smirk. "Where is this coming from?"
"Then why do you keep saying hmmm?" she teased, leaning closer. "Vocab limited hai kya? Or are you just pretending to be mysterious?"
Finally, the corner of his lips twitched. He set his cup down, tilting his head slightly at her antics.
"You're... unbelievable," he muttered, half amused, half exasperated.
"Anyway," she said, brushing him off playfully. "Don't change the subject. Tell me—did you miss me?"
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing loosely. "I guess so."
Her mouth fell open. "Guess so? That's all I get? Do you know how to answer properly?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You know, I could ask you the same question."
Her eyes widened. "So ask na! But I asked you first so answer me!"
He sipped his chai deliberately, ignoring her protest. "Hmm."
"There it is again!" she slapped the table lightly. "You're literally mooing at me. Admit it—you're a cow in disguise."
Finally, he let out a short chuckle. "You've lost it."
"No, you've lost it. Lost your words, lost your expressions.
Tumhare saath ek dictionary gift karni padegi shayad.
" She leaned in closer, grinning. "You know what, Dhruv?
Next time someone asks if you missed me, I'll answer for you.
'Yes, I missed her terribly. Couldn't sleep. Counted the days. Wrote poetry.'"
That actually made him laugh, low and unexpected. "Poetry?"
"Yes, poetry." She sat straighter, mock-dramatic, placing a hand over her heart. "Something like—'Oh my wife, gone for a week, the silence grew too long, my heart grew weak.'"
He shook his head, amused in spite of himself. "Terrible."
"Better than hmm," she shot back immediately.
His smirk deepened, and he leaned just slightly forward, voice lower. "You really want me to say it that badly?"
Her breath caught for a second, but she quickly masked it with a teasing tone. "Obviously. Why else would I be wasting my precious chai-time grilling you?"
He tilted his head, studying her, letting the silence linger just enough to make her squirm.
"Dhruv!" she whined, half playful, half impatient.
"What?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"Say it!"
And just when she thought he might finally crack, his phone rang, slicing through the moment. The sound was so loud in the quiet morning that she jumped. Dhruv glanced at the screen, his expression already shifting back to calm neutrality.
"Saved by the bell," she muttered under her breath.
He rose, sliding his phone into his hand. But before walking away, he paused. His eyes found hers again, steady, unwavering.
"Vaani," he said, voice softer than before.
Her fake annoyance melted into curiosity. "Yeah?"
"I missed you."
No hesitation. No smirk. Just plain honesty.
Vaani sat frozen for a moment, her cheeks warming, her lips pressing into a small smile. Slowly, she hugged the cup of chai closer to her chest, her heart thudding against her ribs.
She was blushing. Hard. And no amount of chai was going to cool it down. Her lips parted in surprise, the banter dying instantly on her tongue. And before she could even react, he answered the call and walked out of the room, leaving her sitting there with a red face and a racing heart.
~·~
The call had dragged on longer than she expected.
Vaani had flipped through three channels, scrolled Instagram twice, and finally settled on a rerun of some cooking show.
She wasn't even watching it properly—her mind kept drifting back to the way he'd said it before leaving the room: I missed you.
The words rang in her ears like a bell, soft yet insistent.
She quickly straightened up when she heard his footsteps. Dhruv walked out, phone now in his pocket, his shoulders loose in that way they always were after a work call.
"I'm free for the rest of the day," he announced casually, leaning against the doorframe.
She glanced up, feigning nonchalance even though her stomach flipped at the sight of him. "No work?"
"Main meeting done," he shrugged. "The rest are just emails. I'll deal with them later."
"Ohh," she nodded slowly. "I see." Then, with a bright little smile, she added, "Even I'm free. I submitted my designs early only. Just need to be on standby in case changes come."
"Good," he said, approving in his usual understated way.
And then suddenly, without warning, she gasped loudly. Loud enough that Dhruv actually jerked upright, eyes narrowing in alarm.
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, brows pulling together.
She grinned mischievously. "I have an idea."
He exhaled sharply, relaxing back against the doorframe. The corner of his mouth twitched, amused. "What's that?"
"Let's go out," she declared with childlike excitement.
He blinked once. "What?"
"Arre deva," she threw her hands up dramatically, "my husband is deaf also!"
Dhruv just stood there, arms crossed, leaning into the frame like he had all the time in the world. His lips curved into the faintest smirk. He didn't even react, just stared at her until she fidgeted.
"I heard you," he finally said, tone deliberately calm.
"Toh let's go!" She hopped off the couch, pointing toward the door as though she was issuing orders.
He tilted his head, as if considering. "Hmm..."
She glared. "My God. What a difference."
His brows rose slightly. "What?"
"I'm the girl, Dhruv. I'm supposed to wait for you to ask me out. And here I am—asking my own husband out." She sighed dramatically. "Kya din aa gaye."
For once, he let the silence linger, just watching her with that dark, unreadable gaze. But his smirk betrayed him.
She planted her hands on her hips. "Don't just stand there. Come on. We're going out. End of story."
Still leaning against the frame, Dhruv gave the smallest shrug, as if to say he was defeated but amused by her antics. "Where do you want to go?"
She poked his shoulder as she passed him, heading toward the bedroom. "That's your choice. You're the driver here. But we're going out."
And just as she reached the door, ready to go change, his voice followed her. Smooth, calm, but with an edge of mischief she wasn't used to.
"Okay," he said. "But one condition."
She froze mid-step, turning around slowly. "What's that?"
His smirk deepened. He straightened from the frame, tilted his head slightly, and said, "You're going to wear the dress I got you."
Her eyes widened. "Dhruv—"
But before she could protest, he winked at her. Then, without another word, he strode past her into the bedroom to change.
Vaani stood there, heat flooding her cheeks, staring at the empty hallway like it had betrayed her.
"God," she muttered under her breath, pressing her hand to her cheek. "Why does he do that?"
Her mind instantly replayed the scene from Georgia—the pastel pink dress folded in her suitcase, his voice telling her firmly, Use it, Vaani. She remembered how good it had looked, how much she had liked it despite herself. And now... now he wanted her to wear it for him.
Inside the bedroom, Dhruv peeled off his T-shirt, his movements methodical as always. But there was a faint curve at his lips, the rare kind of smile he didn't often let out. He had caught her off guard, and he knew it. Her blush had said enough.
Meanwhile, Vaani lingered by the door, trying to calm her racing heart.
She'd told herself so many times that this was just an arranged marriage, that she wouldn't get pulled in too deep.
And yet—every time he said something in that low, commanding voice, every time he held her gaze longer than necessary—it shook her walls a little more.
"Get ready, Vaani," he called casually from inside. "Don't keep me waiting."
Her stomach flipped again. She ran into the other room, pulling out the dress from the cupboard.
It was soft under her fingers, pastel pink with sleeves just above her elbows, the fabric hugging her figure gently.
She'd worn it once in Georgia, and her friends had whistled and teased her endlessly.
Now she wondered—what would he think, seeing her in it properly, here?
By the time Dhruv walked out, buttoning his light shirt, she was almost ready. Her hair fell in loose waves, her makeup minimal but fresh. When she finally stepped into the hall, he glanced up.
And froze for a second.
The silence stretched, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he looked away smoothly, grabbing his watch from the table.
Vaani's cheeks warmed again. She cleared her throat. "So? Decent enough?"
His lips curved, almost imperceptibly. "It'll do."
She rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable. You make me wear the dress and then say it'll do?"
He looked at her fully then, eyes steady, the smallest flicker of heat in them. "I didn't say it didn't look good. I said—it'll do. For now."
Her breath caught at the deliberate way he said for now. She turned quickly, hiding her face as she grabbed her bag.
"Let's go," she muttered, her tone a shade too high-pitched.
Dhruv smirked again, unseen, before taking the keys and following her out.
The evening had only just begun, and already the air inside the car was thick with the kind of energy Vaani couldn't name—part playful, part heavy, and all unfamiliar.
She sat cross-legged in the passenger seat, seatbelt snug across her, her phone in her lap but her eyes trained on him.
Dhruv adjusted the rearview mirror, slid the car into gear, and the hum of the engine filled the silence.
"So," she said brightly, as they pulled out of their building's gates. "Where are we going?"
He didn't glance at her, his eyes focused on the road. "I don't know. We can go to Bluewaters. Or maybe just a mall."
She tilted her head, pretending to mull it over. "Bluewaters... mall... or—" She leaned a little closer, her smile mischievous. "We can go to the petting zoo."
That got his attention. He turned his head just slightly, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "What?"
Her grin widened. "Yes! The petting zoo. It'll be funnn." She stretched out the last syllable deliberately, like a child asking for candy.
Dhruv shook his head once, expression unreadable, and went back to his phone in the holder, scrolling through maps while steering with one hand. "No. I'm not taking you to a zoo."
"Correction," she shot back immediately. "I'm the one who asked you out. So technically, I should be deciding."
His lips curved into the faintest, almost mocking smile. "Even if you asked, I'm the one driving. Which means—no zoo."
She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "You tyrant! Why not?"
He sighed, eyes still on the road, his voice low. "Because."
"Because what?" She poked his arm, leaning closer as though to force the answer out of him.
He flicked his gaze at her briefly before focusing forward again. "Because you look beautiful and I don't want to take you between mud and animals."
The words hit her like a stone dropped into still water—sending ripples she hadn't expected. She froze for a second, blinking at him, her throat tightening in that stupid, uncontrollable way.
"W-what?"
"Don't make me repeat it." His tone was flat, but his jaw ticked, and she knew it wasn't casual. He meant it.
She scrambled to recompose herself, her voice softer now. "But animals are cute."
"They are cute," he admitted, hands steady on the wheel. Then, without looking at her, he added, "But not today."
Her cheeks warmed, her heart stuttering as if trying to keep pace with the car. She turned her face toward the window, chewing on her lip, her smile threatening to escape. "Fine then. You decide."
"Yeah," he said after a moment, his voice low, decisive. "I did decide. Let's go."
She turned back to him slowly, curious. "And where's that?"
Finally, he looked at her fully, his gaze pinning her in place for a second too long before flicking back to the road. "You'll see."
The city blurred past in streaks of yellow streetlights and glass buildings, their car slipping between the traffic with Dhruv's practiced ease. Vaani tapped her fingers against her thigh in mock impatience.
"You know," she said after a few minutes, "this whole mysterious thing doesn't suit you."
"Doesn't it?" His lips twitched faintly.
"Nope. You're supposed to be boring and predictable. 'Work, chai, silence, repeat.' That's your thing. This suspense—" she waved her hands dramatically, "—is very uncharacteristic."
He spared her a sideways glance, eyebrow slightly raised. "You talk too much."
"And you talk too little," she countered. "See? Balance."
For the first time in the ride, he chuckled. It was low, short, but real. And it warmed her far more than she'd expected.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward.
It was filled with her awareness of him—his hand on the wheel, the slope of his profile against the passing lights, the casual strength in the way he moved.
She caught herself staring more than once, quickly pretending to check her phone whenever his eyes flicked her way.
"So what did you girls do there?" he asked suddenly, breaking her thoughts.
She blinked. "In Georgia?"
"Hmm."
"Oh, everything. We wore the jackets, took way too many photos, ate like pigs, walked across these gorgeous hills.
.. oh! And we went to this little local winery, it was sooo pretty.
" Her voice picked up in excitement, her hands animated.
"You would've loved it. Very quiet. Not crowded. The view was insane."
He made a small sound of acknowledgment. "You had fun then."
"I did," she admitted, softer now. Then she glanced sideways at him, biting back a smile. "Though... not as much fun as a petting zoo would've been."
He gave her a look. "Don't push it."
She laughed, tilting her head back against the seat. The sound lingered in the car, light and unrestrained. And though he didn't say anything, his grip on the wheel eased, his shoulders loosening as if her laughter had reached him too.
The drive stretched on, the city thinning as they moved toward the coast. The scent of saltwater crept in faintly through the vents, and Vaani's curiosity grew.
"Wait," she said suddenly, sitting up straighter. "Are we... going to Bluewaters?"
"Maybe."
"Dhruv!" she swatted his arm. "Tell me!"
He didn't flinch, just smirked slightly. "You'll find out soon enough."
She groaned dramatically, sliding lower into her seat. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," he said quietly, eyes still on the road, "you're here."
Her chest tightened again, her playful pout fading for a second. She looked at him, but his profile gave nothing away. Turning back to the window, she swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the lights outside instead of the way her heart thumped.
By the time they finally pulled into the parking lot overlooking the water, the sky was a deep indigo, stars scattered faintly above. The ferris wheel at Bluewaters glowed in the distance, its reflection shimmering across the dark sea.
Vaani's eyes widened. "Oh wow..."
Dhruv parked smoothly, cut the engine, and glanced at her. "Better than a zoo?"
She nodded, still staring out. "Much better." Then, unable to resist, she added cheekily, "But if there were goats here too, it would've been perfect."
He shook his head, lips twitching again, and for once didn't argue back.
The boardwalk was alive with a hum of chatter, laughter, and the occasional crash of waves against the pier.
Strings of fairy lights hung along the pathways, glowing despite the sunlight.
Vaani walked a few steps ahead of Dhruv, her phone already in her hands, snapping photos of everything—the glittering water, the ferris wheel spinning slowly in the distance, the street performers drawing small crowds.
"Look at this view!" she exclaimed, almost bouncing on her toes as she angled her phone toward the horizon.
The sky was bright yellow, with streaks of the gold lingering near the waterline, reflected in ripples of silver-blue sea.
Her dress, a soft blush pink, seemed to glow under the sunlight.
She stepped sideways, trying to frame the shot just right, her hair slipping out of its clip as the wind played with it.
Dhruv slowed behind her, his gaze lingering. Not on the sea. Not on the lights. On her.
Something about the way she stood there, framed against the endless ocean, the breeze tugging at her hair, her silhouette soft yet steady—it felt... arresting. Almost without thinking, he slipped his phone out of his pocket, lifted it, and clicked a photo.
The faint sound made her glance back. "What are you doing?" she teased, brows arched.
He walked up beside her, nudged her arm lightly with his elbow, and held out the phone. "Look."
She peeked, and her face lit up. "Oh my God, I love it!" She zoomed in, then zoomed out again, admiring the way the pink of her dress contrasted against the endless blue behind. "This is so, so pretty." She looked up at him, her smile wide. "You're actually good at this, Dhruv."
He shrugged, pocketing the phone. "It's just the view."
"Not the view," she corrected, tapping her chest with a finger. "The subject."
He gave her one of those quiet, unreadable looks that lingered a second too long before turning away. "Stand there," he said suddenly, nodding toward the railing. "I'll take a better one."
"Bossy," she muttered under her breath but obeyed, leaning against the railing with the sea behind her.
She posed lightly, not over the top, just soft smiles and a tilt of the head.
He lifted his phone again, taking his time this time—one wide shot, one close-up, one with her mid-laugh when the wind caught her hair.
When he lowered the phone, she hurried over. "Show me, show me."
He handed it to her. She scrolled through, her grin only growing. "These are beautiful. Like... print-worthy beautiful."
"You exaggerate," he said, though his tone was softer now, less guarded.
"Maybe," she admitted. Then, mischievously, "Now your turn."
He stiffened slightly. "No."
"Come on," she nudged him. "One picture. For me."
"I don't need pictures."
"But I do," she insisted, standing in front of him now, holding her phone ready. "So stand. Right there."
He shook his head, sighing. "Vaani—"
She folded her arms, giving him her most dramatic glare. "You don't say no to your wife when she's asking for something so small. Bad manners."
That made his lips twitch faintly. "Fine," he muttered, walking to where she pointed.
She lit up, positioning him against the sea. "Perfect! Okay now, smile."
He just stood there, straight-backed, his expression calm.
"Dhruv, I said smile."
"I'm good."
"Good? You look like you're about to be arrested."
He huffed, glancing away. "I'm not smiling."
She lowered the phone with an exasperated laugh. "You're impossible." But she still snapped a few shots, capturing him in profile, the wind tugging his hair, his eyes slightly narrowed against the sea breeze. Even with no smile, he looked—well, striking.
Before she could tease him further, a woman walking past slowed and beamed at them. "Oh, you two are adorable!"
Both froze, blinking at the stranger.
The woman tilted her head. "Want me to take a picture of you together?"
Vaani opened her mouth, hesitated, then glanced at Dhruv. He looked... neutral. Maybe a shade awkward.
"Go on," the woman encouraged warmly. "It'll be a nice memory."
"Um... okay," Vaani said finally, handing over her phone. She walked the few steps to stand beside Dhruv.
The woman lifted the phone. "Closer!"
Before Vaani could react, Dhruv casually slipped an arm around her waist.
Her body went rigid for a fraction of a second, heart lurching in her chest. The warmth of his hand against her waist, the easy claim of the gesture—it sent a rush of something she quickly masked with a smile.
The woman clicked a few shots, cheerful as ever, before handing the phone back. "There you go, darlings. Lovely picture."
"Thank you," Vaani said, voice a little too bright as the woman walked away.
She checked the photo immediately—and her breath caught. The two of them stood close, framed by the sea and lights, his arm steady around her, her smile soft. They looked... they looked like they belonged there, together.
"It's beautiful," she whispered. Then, trying to cover the sudden rush of emotions, she added cheekily, "I'll launch us on Instagram like this only. 'The Dhruv-Vaani duo.'"
He chuckled under his breath. "Sure."
She glanced up, his eyes unreadable in the soft glow of the streetlamps, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them. But before she could say anything, he nodded toward the pier.
"Let's go."
The ferris wheel loomed closer as they walked, its lights spinning lazily across the morning sky. Vaani's excitement only grew with each step.
"Dhruv, look at it! It's massive!" She clutched his arm lightly, tugging him forward like a child. "We're going on it, right? Right?"
He glanced at her enthusiasm, the way her eyes sparkled, and shook his head slightly. "You'll drag me there anyway."
"Correct answer," she said, beaming.
They bought the tickets and stepped into one of the glass pods. As it lifted slowly off the ground, Vaani pressed her hands to the window, staring out.
"Ohhh my God, look at the view!" she said, her voice filled with awe. The whole city stretched out beneath them now, glittering like a million stars scattered across the land. The sea shimmered darkly, reflecting fragments of the sunlight.
She kept moving from one side of the pod to the other, taking photos, gasping, pointing things out. "That's our building, no? Look! And there—see that? That's the marina! Dhruv, this is insane."
He sat back on the bench, watching her. Her excitement filled every inch of the capsule, her laughter ringing clear, her hands fluttering as she tried to capture it all.
And for the first time in weeks—maybe months—he felt the tension in his chest loosen. Just sitting there, watching her glow against the morning, he realized how much quieter his world had been without her.
She turned suddenly, catching him staring. "Why are you sitting like a statue? Come here, look!"
"I can see," he said evenly.
"No, not like that. Come here." She tugged his sleeve until he reluctantly stood and joined her at the glass. She pointed out at the sweeping skyline. "See? Isn't it stunning?"
He glanced out, then back at her. "It is."
She didn't notice his eyes lingered longer on her than the city.
By the time the wheel reached its highest point, Vaani was quiet for once, just staring out, her breath fogging the glass slightly.
"It feels like..." she whispered, almost to herself, "the whole world is at peace up here."
Dhruv looked at her profile, the softness in her features, the way her eyes reflected the sunlight, and for a brief, dangerous moment, he let himself agree.
It wasn't the view that was calming him. It was her.
~·~
The ferris wheel creaked softly as their pod glided higher, the cityscape below unfurling like a blanket of morning lights.
Vaani pressed her forehead lightly against the glass, her breath leaving faint circles as she gazed out, phone clutched loosely in her hand.
The skyline shimmered, the sea reflecting a thousand colors, and for a long while she just let herself absorb it.
"This is unreal," she murmured. "Like we're not even in the same world anymore."
Dhruv, seated on the bench behind her, gave a small hum of acknowledgment. He wasn't really looking outside; his gaze kept wandering back to her reflection in the glass—her wide eyes, the way her lips curved upward in a half-smile as if she couldn't hold back her excitement.
Vaani glanced back, catching his eyes. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"Just sitting there. Like a statue." She exaggerated her voice, teasing. "Come on, live a little. Lean here, at least. Pretend to be impressed."
He sighed, but rose, walking over to lean his forearm against the railing beside her. "Satisfied?"
She grinned. "Much better." Then she turned back to the city, pointing things out—the marina glinting faintly in the distance, the bridge lit up like a silver chain, boats bobbing like toys. He listened quietly, his posture relaxed but his eyes still steady on her more often than the view.
Then, after a beat, he said casually, "By the way, it's your turn."
She blinked. "My turn?"
"To answer."
She tilted her head. "Answer what?"
He angled slightly toward her, voice calm but carrying that low timbre that always cut through. "The same question you asked me in the morning."
Vaani paused, wrinkling her brow, as though she was genuinely trying to remember. "Morning? I asked you a lot of things in the morning. Like if you're secretly a cow. Was it that one?"
The faintest crease appeared between his brows, but there was amusement flickering in his eyes. "No."
"Ohhh," she tapped her chin theatrically. "Was it about your vocabulary being limited? Because—fair point, Dhruv."
His gaze held hers, steady, unimpressed. "Sure you don't remember."
Her lips twitched. "Oh, wait, wait. I think I kinda remember now." She leaned closer as though about to whisper something dramatic, then pulled back with an innocent shrug. "Nope, lost it again."
He exhaled, straightening slightly, clearly done with the game. "Leave it."
Vaani's grin widened at her victory. But then silence slipped between them, the only sounds the hum of the wheel and the muffled buzz of the city below. The pod swayed gently with the breeze, giving the illusion of floating.
For a long moment, they simply stood side by side, gazing out.
Dhruv leaned against the railing, one arm resting casually, his jaw set but his eyes softened by the glow of the sunlight.
Vaani watched him out of the corner of her eye, her teasing smile fading into something quieter, something warmer.
Almost without thinking, she shifted closer, her shoulder brushing lightly against his. Then, hesitantly but deliberately, she slipped her arm around his arm where it rested on the railing. Her fingers curled just lightly—not a grip, not a plea, just a quiet link.
She turned her eyes onto him, her voice softer now, no trace of her earlier mischief. "Dhruv."
"Hmm." He gave his signature hum, the kind she always teased him about, low and noncommittal.
She finally looked at him, eyes bright but steady. "I missed you too."
??