84
The AC hummed steadily through the living room, but even then, the heat outside seemed to seep into the walls. The July sun was merciless, spilling light so bright that the white curtains looked golden from the glow.
Vaani sat curled up on the couch, a glass of cold nimbu paani resting against her knee. Her hair was tied up loosely, a few strands sticking to her neck. She sighed loudly for what must've been the tenth time that afternoon.
"It's too hot," she groaned dramatically, fanning herself with a magazine. "Dhruv, it's unbearable, yaar."
From the kitchen, Dhruv's voice floated back, calm and steady as ever. "It is," he said simply.
She turned her head toward the sound of his voice, frowning. "You're saying that like you're sitting on a snow mountain. It's crazy hot!"
He walked in with a bottle of water, wearing his usual half-sleeved T-shirt and shorts, looking unbothered as always. "We have AC," he said dryly, "and you're literally using it."
Vaani glared. "Why do you have to be so nonchalant all the time, haan? What do you get out of it?"
Dhruv sank into the couch beside her, stretching out comfortably, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Peace," he replied.
She rolled her eyes. "Kuch bhi," she muttered, still fanning herself.
Dhruv chuckled quietly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "You're dramatic."
"I'm melting," she shot back. Then, after a pause, she sighed again and said, "Vihaan cha packing zordaar chalu ae!" (Vihaan's packing is in full swing!)
Dhruv raised an eyebrow at her sudden switch to Marathi. "Packing, huh?"
"Hmm," she nodded, her tone part exasperated, part amused. "Since the month started. He's been running around the whole house. Even Aai said she's tired watching him."
Dhruv chuckled, reaching for his phone. "I'm aware," he said, unlocking it and holding it out toward her.
She frowned, leaning in, then laughed when she saw the screen — Vihaan's WhatsApp chat.
The messages were a chaotic mix of questions and excitement.
"Jiju what's the best brand for suitcases?
"
"Should I pack formal shoes?
"
"It snows a lot, right?"
"Where should I get thermal jackets?
"
"Is it okay to carry instant noodles in check-in?
"
"Do you think I'll need an umbrella?
"
"Wait do I get Maggi there?"
"Oh God," Vaani groaned, pressing her forehead against her palm. "He's been asking you all this too?"
Dhruv nodded, chuckling. "Since morning. It's like being on a game show."
"I'll tell him to stop; he's driving everyone insane."
He shook his head, still scrolling. "No, it's fine. I like it. He's excited — he should be."
Vaani smiled faintly, the warmth in his tone softening her expression. "Yeah," she said softly, "he's very excited."
"Good," Dhruv said simply. "He should be."
There was a pause. The AC hummed. Vaani fiddled with the edge of her top.
Then Dhruv asked casually, "Who's going to drop him?"
Her hand stilled. For a second, she didn't respond. "I don't know," she said quietly, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. "Maybe he'll go alone."
Dhruv looked at her, his brows drawing together slightly. "Why?"
"Dhruv..." she started, then shook her head. "Leave it."
He didn't.
When she stood to get up, Dhruv's hand reached out instinctively, wrapping around her wrist. The sudden tug pulled her off balance, and before she could react, she landed squarely on his lap.
"Dhruv!" she exclaimed, startled.
He didn't say anything for a second, just looked at her — calm, serious, his eyes searching hers. One of his hands rested on her waist, firm and steady. The other still held her wrist.
"Tell me," he said quietly.
"It's nothing, Dhruv," she muttered, trying to move, but his grip didn't loosen.
"Vaani," he said again, softer this time but in that tone that always made her look at him. "Tell me."
She finally met his gaze. His eyes weren't angry — just... intent. Grounded. The kind of look that said he wouldn't let her brush this off.
She hesitated, biting her lip. "It's just..." She exhaled, voice small. "Dhruv, we... it's a lot of money. Applying for the visa, the fees, the ticket. Aai and Baba are trying their best, but it's been hard. Vihaan got his visa, but..." Her voice trailed off. "I don't know."
For a moment, silence filled the space. Dhruv's expression softened, but he didn't interrupt. He just watched her — watched the way her voice trembled when she said "Aai and Baba."
Finally, he sighed. "Can you tell me when things like this happen from now on?" he asked quietly.
She blinked, surprised. "Nothing much happened, Dhruv. Vihaan will go, that's all."
"No." His tone was firmer now, still calm but more grounded. "It's not that simple, Vaani. It's a big change for him. He hasn't even gone out of Dubai before — how's he suddenly going to manage everything alone?"
She looked at him, unsure how to respond.
He exhaled again, the weight of the situation sinking in. Then, without saying anything further, he gently shifted her off his lap, stood up, and ran a hand through his hair.
Vaani blinked, caught off guard by the sudden distance. "Dhruv?" she said softly, turning in her seat to look at him.
But he was already walking toward the bedroom, his shoulders tense.
She sat there for a moment, her heart sinking, unsure if he was upset — at her, or at the situation.
The AC continued to hum quietly, the air cool but suddenly heavy.
Vaani leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. The faintest trace of guilt flickered in her chest as she whispered to herself, "He's not angry... he's just... worried."
Still, the silence that followed made her uneasy.
She stared toward the hallway where he had disappeared, her thoughts tangled between guilt and gratitude — and something else entirely, that quiet ache that came from knowing Dhruv never raised his voice... but when something mattered to him, you could feel it in every breath he took.
When Dhruv stepped out of the bedroom again, Vaani was still on the couch, idly scrolling through her phone but not really reading anything. She looked up when she heard the soft sound of his footsteps.
He wasn't in the same shorts and T-shirt anymore. He'd changed — into a clean, crisp shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, paired with dark jeans. His hair was slightly damp, as though he'd run water through it to neaten it.
Vaani frowned. "What... happened?" she asked, sitting up a little. "Where are you going?"
Dhruv slipped on his watch, his movements unhurried. "You're also coming," he said simply.
"What?" she blinked, confused. "Where?"
He walked over to the table, picked up his car keys, and looked at her. "Come, Vaani."
"Dhruv!" she said, half-exasperated, half-intrigued. "You can't just— tell me na, where are we going?"
He didn't answer. Just gave her that look — the one that said he wasn't going to explain, but she should trust him anyway.
She sighed, muttering under her breath, "You and your suspense." Still, she stood, slipped on her sandals, grabbed her phone and a small sling bag, and followed him out.
The hallway outside their apartment was quiet, the air-conditioning humming faintly. They didn't talk as they walked toward the elevator. The silence wasn't heavy — just... still. Comfortable, but charged with curiosity.
Once they got into the car, Dhruv started the engine, his gaze focused on the road ahead.
Vaani glanced at him sideways. He looked calm, composed, as always, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping absently against the gear.
For a while, she didn't speak either. The radio was off, the only sounds being the soft hum of the air-conditioning and the occasional whoosh of cars passing by.
After a few minutes, Vaani leaned back in her seat and said, "You know, silence isn't as mysterious as you think. You can just say where we're going."
Dhruv's lips twitched slightly. "You'll see."
She huffed dramatically. "You're impossible."
He glanced at her then, eyes glinting with quiet amusement, but said nothing more.
When the car finally slowed, Vaani looked out the window — and frowned.
It was her parents' building.
She turned toward him, confused. "Dhruv... why are we here?"
He parked smoothly, turned off the engine, and looked at her. "Chal na, Vaani," he said gently. "Mi samzoto." (I'll explain.)
She blinked, then she nodded slowly, unbuckled her seatbelt, and followed him out.
The familiar scent of the building's lobby — faint detergent, old marble, and the comforting echo of home — greeted her as they stepped inside.
She still didn't know why they were there, but there was something in Dhruv's steady pace that stopped her from asking again.
When the car pulled up outside her parents' building, Vaani frowned softly, still unsure of why Dhruv had brought her there.
He didn't say a word — just got out, rounded the car, and waited until she did the same. The late afternoon light hit his face in soft gold; calm, unreadable, as always.
They took the elevator up in silence. Vaani kept sneaking little glances at him, wanting to ask again, but something about his expression told her not to.
Whatever it was, he'd explain in his own time.
When they reached the familiar door, Dhruv rang the bell.
Within moments, the door opened — and there stood Sunita, her face lighting up instantly.
"Arre, Dhruv! Vaani! Hi, beta!" she said, her smile wide and welcoming.
Vaani grinned, hugging her mother. "Aai!"
Dhruv smiled politely, bowing his head slightly in greeting. "Hello, Aai."
Sunita's eyes softened. "Come inside, both of you, come! Baba, look who's here!"
From inside, Ramesh's voice called out, "Who?" before he appeared, adjusting his spectacles. "Aye! Dhruv beta! Vaani! Arre wah, what a surprise!"
They stepped in, the smell of home instantly wrapping around them — sandalwood from the mandir, the faint aroma of freshly made chai, and the hum of the ceiling fan turning lazily.
Sunita guided them to the sofa. "Sit, sit! I'll bring chai."
"No need, Aai, really," Vaani began, but Sunita waved her off. "You both sit and talk, I'll just bring it."
Ramesh chuckled. "She won't listen, you know that."
Dhruv smiled, settling down beside Vaani. His hands were loosely clasped, his demeanor calm but alert — like he'd come with purpose.
"So," Ramesh said, lowering himself into the armchair opposite them, "everything alright, beta? You came suddenly."
Dhruv nodded. "All good, Baba. Just thought we'd drop in."
Sunita returned a few minutes later with a tray — four cups of chai and a plate of nankhatais. "Here, drink this."
Vaani smiled, taking one immediately. "Aai, these smell amazing."
Sunita's eyes crinkled. "Freshly baked this morning!"
They all chatted lightly for a few minutes — about Ramesh's office, about how hot Dubai had gotten, about how Vihaan was constantly running around the house packing and un-packing.
Then Dhruv leaned slightly forward, his tone even. "So, who's going to drop Vihaan?"
Sunita and Ramesh both paused mid-sip, exchanging a brief glance.
"Beta..." Ramesh started slowly, "we're still... deciding."
Vaani looked at Dhruv from the corner of her eye. His expression didn't change, but his voice had a quiet firmness when he spoke again.
"It's almost time for him to go, Aai," he said softly, turning to Sunita. "He's leaving in two, three weeks, right?"
Sunita nodded, a faint sigh escaping her. "Yes, beta. Time has flown so fast."
Dhruv tilted his head slightly. "Then what's the plan?"
Sunita hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her dupatta. "Beta, we... actually—"
Ramesh placed his cup down gently and spoke for her. "Vihaan's visa came through," he said, his voice calm but weary. "But ours... it's still not confirmed."
Dhruv's brows drew together slightly. "Why?"
Ramesh sighed, the kind of sigh that carries weeks of waiting in embassy queues and endless paperwork. "Because of this new visa system. These changes they brought in after the U.S. policy shift—it's become a mess. We've made five trips already, beta. Nothing is moving."
Sunita nodded quietly beside him, worry etched into the lines of her face. "Every time they say come next week, come next week. But now it's almost time for him to go."
Dhruv leaned back, thoughtful. "Does Vihaan know?"
Sunita exchanged another look with her husband. "We've started to tell him," she said softly. "We didn't want to worry him too soon, but... we're trying to prepare him, slowly. That he might have to go alone."
The living room fell into a small silence. The whirring of the fan seemed louder suddenly, a steady hum above the weight of their words.
Dhruv looked down for a moment, his jaw tightening slightly. Then, in a calm voice, he asked, "How does he feel about it?"
Sunita gave a faint smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "He says he's fine, beta. Keeps saying, 'I can handle it, Aai, don't worry.'" She sighed. "But you know how he is. Always trying to make it easier for us."
Ramesh nodded slowly. "He's pretending to be brave. But he's never travelled alone before. Not even outside the UAE. It's... a lot."
Dhruv nodded, quietly absorbing their words. He didn't speak immediately — just sat there, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers intertwined loosely.
Vaani watched him from the side. There was something deeply focused about him — that silent kind of attention that Dhruv gave only when something truly mattered to him.
Sunita continued, voice softening. "I keep telling myself it'll be okay. He'll manage. But still... a mother's heart, you know."
Dhruv looked up then, meeting her eyes with quiet sincerity. "He'll manage," he said. "But he shouldn't have to do it completely alone either."
Sunita blinked, slightly taken aback by the quiet conviction in his tone. "Beta..."
He didn't elaborate further — didn't make any promises, didn't jump into solutions. Just sat back again, nodding slightly, his expression thoughtful.
For a while, they all spoke gently — about Vihaan's college, about the little checklist he was keeping, about how excited he was to finally go abroad and study.
"Every day he adds something new to that list," Sunita said with a fond chuckle. "Yesterday he said, 'Aai, should I take the pressure cooker?'"
Ramesh laughed. "I told him, 'No, you'll blow up your dorm!'"
Even Dhruv chuckled softly at that, shaking his head. "Classic Vihaan," he murmured.
Vaani smiled faintly, though her eyes were still tinged with concern. She knew her brother — for all his jokes and excitement, he'd be scared too.
As the laughter faded into a gentler quiet, Dhruv leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on a framed photo on the wall — one of Vaani and Vihaan as kids, grinning with ice cream cones in their hands.
He didn't say anything, but something shifted in his eyes — that steady, contained kind of care that always ran beneath his calm surface.
Sunita stood then, collecting the empty cups. "I'll bring more chai."
"No, Aai, we're fine," Vaani said softly, watching her go.
Ramesh leaned forward slightly, his tone a bit more serious now. "You know, Dhruv beta... it's been stressful. We thought we'd go together, settle him in, help him adjust. But now it seems like that may not happen. We're just hoping something works out last minute."
Dhruv nodded slowly. "Hmm."
He didn't offer reassurances he couldn't promise. Didn't say "It'll be fine." Just listened — deeply, attentively — the kind of listening that itself was grounding.
Sunita returned then, wiping her hands on her dupatta. "Enough about all this. You two tell me — how's everything else? Work? Home?"
Vaani smiled, forcing herself to lighten up a little. "Good, Aai. Everything's fine."
Dhruv gave a small nod. "All good."
The conversation drifted toward lighter topics — a neighbor's new car, the mango season, the new series Sunita was obsessed with. But the earlier topic lingered quietly in the room, like an unsaid promise resting behind Dhruv's steady eyes.
And though Vaani didn't say it aloud, she knew — by the time they left that evening — that he'd already started thinking of a way to make sure Vihaan didn't have to go alone.
The living room had softened again into easy conversation.
The air hummed lightly with the sound of the ceiling fan and the soft clink of teacups.
Sunita was talking about Vihaan's packing — something about how he had labeled all his chargers in little zip-lock bags — when Dhruv, who'd been listening in silence, suddenly straightened a little.
He looked at Ramesh, then at Sunita.
And then, mid-sentence, his tone shifted — low, certain.
"Aai, Baba," he said quietly, cutting through the flow of chatter. "I have a solution."
The room went still for a second.
Sunita blinked, surprised. "Solution?"
Ramesh tilted his head. "What do you mean, beta?"
Dhruv leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His voice was calm but purposeful.
"Vaani and I will go drop him."
For a second, it didn't register.
Vaani froze beside him, blinking fast. "What?" she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Even Sunita's hands stilled mid-movement, while Ramesh looked between them in mild shock.
Dhruv looked at all three of them evenly. "We'll go drop him. To New York. To Columbia."
The silence stretched for a heartbeat, then Vaani spoke again — more incredulous this time.
"Wait, what? How, Dhruv? When did—"
He turned to her calmly, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.
"I already have a U.S. visa," he said matter-of-factly.
"And we can get one for you too. It'll be easier since I already have one, and you've got your UK visa from earlier.
These things tend to move faster when there's prior travel history. "
Sunita looked at him, still processing. "Beta, that's... that's very kind of you, but it's too much. You don't need to go through all that trouble."
Dhruv shook his head slightly. "It's not trouble, Aai. I have holidays left. And," he added, almost with a hint of humor, "I work in my family's company. I'm sure they'll allow me a few days off."
That made everyone chuckle softly. Even Ramesh smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, when you put it like that..."
Vaani, still half stunned, glanced at him. "But I... I don't work in my dad's company, Dhruv," she said, a little dazed, a little amused.
He turned his head toward her, calm as ever. "You have two weeks of paid leave left," he said simply. "And if you don't want to use that, we can go to your office tomorrow and ask for a week or two of remote work. I'm sure they'll understand."
Vaani blinked at him, caught between disbelief and admiration. "You already know how much leave I have left?"
He looked at her with that small, knowing half-smile. "Of course I do."
Sunita was watching all this quietly, still unsure. "Beta," she said softly, "you really don't have to. We'll manage somehow."
Dhruv met her eyes gently. "Aai, listen. He's going to Columbia. I know people there — professors, alumni, even one or two people in administration. I can help him set up, find his way around, get comfortable. He won't feel lost."
Ramesh frowned slightly, hesitant but hopeful. "But, beta, the flights, the stay, the time difference—"
"I'll manage all of that," Dhruv interrupted quietly. Not impatiently — just with quiet certainty. "Flights, accommodation — everything. You just have to tell me if you're okay with it."
For a few moments, no one spoke. The silence was heavy, not awkward — just full of thought.
Sunita glanced at Ramesh. He looked back, his brows knit in the way of a man balancing pride, worry, and relief all at once.
Finally, Ramesh sighed softly. "You've thought this through already, haven't you?"
Dhruv nodded once. "Since we started talking."
Sunita still hesitated. "But... we can't impose on you both like this. You're young, you have your own lives—"
"It's not an imposition, Aai," Dhruv said gently, leaning forward. "It's family. Vihaan's family. Our family."
The quiet conviction in his tone made Sunita's throat tighten a little. She looked at Vaani, whose face had softened, her eyes flickering between pride and disbelief.
Ramesh cleared his throat. "It would... certainly give us peace of mind," he admitted finally. "Knowing someone's there when he lands."
Dhruv nodded, as though that settled it for him. "Then it's simple. Think about it tonight. If you're okay, we'll start the paperwork for Vaani's visa tomorrow."
Sunita still looked overwhelmed, her eyes glistening just slightly. "You're too good, beta," she murmured.
Dhruv shook his head lightly. "No, Aai. I'm just practical."
That made everyone laugh softly, the tension dissolving a little.
But even then, Ramesh's eyes were thoughtful. He exchanged a quiet look with his wife — that unspoken parental conversation that said a thousand things at once: He's right. But it's a lot. Still... maybe it's the best way.
Dhruv noticed the silence and smiled faintly. "You don't have to decide now," he said gently. "Just think about it and let us know, okay?"
Ramesh nodded slowly. "Okay, beta."
Vaani sat beside him, still a little dazed. He said it so easily — we'll go drop him — as though booking flights across continents was no big deal. But more than that, it was the way he'd said we. So naturally. So firmly. Like it wasn't even a question.
Wanting to lift the mood, she suddenly smiled. "Anyway!" she said brightly, glancing at her mother. "So, what's the plan now? Aai, you were saying something about mangoes?"
Sunita blinked, then smiled gratefully at the change of tone. "Haan! I cut some earlier. I'll bring them."
Ramesh chuckled, getting up to help her. "Come, I'll get the plates."
As they disappeared into the kitchen, Vaani turned to Dhruv. He sat there, calm as ever, scrolling casually through his phone as if he hadn't just altered the entire family's next few months.
She leaned closer, whispering, "You really think this will work?"
He looked at her, one corner of his mouth curving faintly. "It will."
"You're sure?"
"Yes." He met her gaze evenly. "And even if it doesn't go perfectly, it'll go better than him going alone."
Vaani looked at him for a long moment — and then just smiled, that soft, affectionate kind of smile that meant thank you without saying it.
When Sunita returned with the mangoes and Ramesh with spoons, the mood had already shifted back to lightness.
They spent the next half hour talking about Vihaan's chaotic packing list, laughing over old stories of Vaani's first day at college, and Dhruv listened — not intruding, not dominating, just there. Solid. Steady.
And somewhere, beneath all that laughter, Vaani couldn't stop thinking — maybe Dhruv wasn't just her calm anymore. Maybe he'd quietly become the family's too.
~·~
The evening sunlight had softened into a mellow gold, stretching long shadows across the living room floor.
The air smelled faintly of mango and sandalwood — Sunita had just lit an agarbatti a few minutes ago — and everyone seemed a little more at ease now.
The tension that had hung earlier was gone, replaced by an easy, homey warmth.
Sunita and Ramesh were telling Dhruv and Vaani about how Vihaan had gone out to meet his friends for a last-minute "pre-departure chai session," as he called it, and how he'd been fussing over his packing list like a man preparing for space travel.
"He made me check his checklist three times," Sunita said with an affectionate sigh. "Passport, visa, socks, sim card, adapters, and some fancy thing called a universal charger — I didn't even know there was such a thing!"
Ramesh chuckled. "He even made a color-coded spreadsheet for his clothes."
Vaani laughed, shaking her head. "Of course he did. Classic Vihaan."
Dhruv smiled quietly, watching the easy back-and-forth between them — the rhythm of a family that, for all its worries, was stitched together with laughter.
Just then, they heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a cheerful voice.
"Aaiii!"
Sunita's face lit up instantly. "Aree, he's back!"
Vihaan walked in, hair slightly ruffled, backpack slung over one shoulder, still grinning from whatever jokes had been traded on the way home.
"Oh, everyone's here!" he said, his voice upbeat.
Then he noticed Dhruv and Vaani sitting together and his grin widened. "Ohooo, jiju, Tai! How are you guys!"
Vaani smiled, standing up to hug him lightly. "We're good! How was your big farewell tea party?"
Vihaan groaned playfully. "Too emotional, yaar. Everyone was acting like I'm going forever. Half of them will probably be in New York for grad school next year anyway."
That made everyone laugh. Sunita looked at her son fondly, then at Ramesh — and something unspoken passed between them. She hesitated for a second, then turned back to Vihaan.
"Beta," she said softly, "good news."
Vihaan looked at her curiously. "What good news?"
Sunita glanced at Dhruv for a moment, then back at her son. "Your sister and jiju," she said, smiling, "are going to drop you to New York."
For a heartbeat, Vihaan just blinked.
"What?"
Vaani looked at her mother, startled — but Sunita only smiled and nodded as if confirming something important.
Across from her, Dhruv's eyebrows lifted slightly, but then he caught Sunita's look — the quiet, knowing one that said we trust you — and he smiled.
A small, grateful smile that softened his whole expression.
Then Vihaan's eyes widened, realization hitting. "Wait, what?! You're serious?"
Sunita nodded, chuckling at his astonished face. "Completely serious."
Vihaan practically bounced in place. "No way! Oh my God, really?!"
Dhruv nodded, his calm voice cutting through Vihaan's excitement. "Really."
Vihaan's grin spread from ear to ear. "This is—this is insane! Amazing! Oh my God, I can't believe this!"
Ramesh laughed, shaking his head at his son's reaction. "Go change, beta."
"Right, right!" Vihaan said, still beaming, and dashed to his room like an overexcited kid.
As soon as he disappeared down the hall, Dhruv looked back at Sunita and Ramesh. "Thank you," he said quietly, his tone warm but steady. "Don't worry, we'll handle everything. Flights, arrangements — it'll be smooth."
Sunita nodded, her eyes soft. "We know, beta."
Ramesh added with a small smile, "Honestly, Dhruv, you going would be best. You know the place, the people. Vihaan will feel far more secure with you there than with us trying to figure things out. It'll be good for him. I just hope we aren't imposing and we want to pitch in—"
Dhruv inclined his head slightly. "No. Please Baba. We'll make sure he's settled."
Vaani smiled beside him — quiet pride glowing in her expression.
Just then, Vihaan returned, now in a loose t-shirt and shorts, hair slightly damp from washing his face. He plopped down next to Dhruv on the couch, still grinning.
"So," Dhruv said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Guess we're going on a trip together."
Vihaan leaned back, looking thrilled. "You have no idea how happy I am, jiju. I was honestly pretending to be chill about going alone, but the thought of landing there without anyone I know—man, I was low-key freaking out."
"I figured," Dhruv said, glancing at him knowingly.
Vihaan chuckled. "Yeah, well, I can't show it in front of Aai. She'd get even more worried."
Sunita, who had just returned from the kitchen with a fresh pot of chai, smiled. "I already knew you were worried," she said teasingly. "Mothers know these things."
Vihaan laughed. "Yeah, yeah, you and your superpowers."
Ramesh handed him a cup. "Now that jiju and didi are coming, you can relax. Focus on enjoying your last few days here."
"I will!" Vihaan said enthusiastically. "Oh my God, this is going to be so much fun. Didi, you're going to love New York. And jiju, we'll explore the campus together! You'll get to see the Columbia library — it's gorgeous."
Vaani laughed. "I've seen it in photos, but yeah, I'd love to."
Vihaan turned to Dhruv, suddenly serious. "Thank you, jiju. Really. You didn't have to, but... this means a lot."
Dhruv looked at him, his expression softening. "Don't mention it. Just make sure you're ready when we go."
"Ready?!" Vihaan exclaimed. "I was born ready."
Sunita rolled her eyes fondly. "Born ready? You still ask me which bag to use for packing."
"Details, Aai," Vihaan said with mock seriousness, making everyone laugh.
The conversation flowed easily after that — Vihaan talking excitedly about the dorms, Dhruv occasionally offering quiet tips about the city, Vaani teasing her brother about how he'd survive without homemade food, and Sunita occasionally cutting in with, "Don't forget to eat proper meals!"
At one point, Vihaan said, "We'll have to do a huge farewell dinner before we go — all of us, the family, my friends, everyone!"
"Of course," Ramesh said. "You decide the date; we'll handle the arrangements."
Dhruv looked at him. "I'll help with that too. Maybe a rooftop or a nice café setting. Keep it simple but good."
"Simple and good — like you," Sunita said warmly, and everyone chuckled.
As the laughter settled, Vaani glanced around at all of them — her parents relaxed, Vihaan buzzing with happiness, and Dhruv beside her, quietly content, his presence steady like always. She reached for her tea and smiled faintly to herself.
For the first time in weeks, the room didn't feel heavy with worry. It felt light, safe, full of small laughter and plans.
Vihaan leaned over suddenly, nudging Dhruv. "By the way, jiju, since you're my official travel buddy now, I'm going to rely on you for airport food advice. Everyone says American sandwiches are terrible."
Dhruv smirked slightly. "They are. You'll survive."
"Wow, that's comforting," Vihaan deadpanned, making Vaani snicker.
"Don't worry," Vaani said teasingly. "If you survive your jiju's sarcasm, you'll survive American sandwiches."
Ramesh and Sunita laughed again, the sound filling the room.
And somewhere in that soft laughter — amid the clink of cups and the warmth of the room — something subtle shifted. It wasn't just about Vihaan going anymore. It was about the quiet relief that came when family stopped worrying and started believing things would be okay.
Dhruv leaned back slightly, his arm brushing Vaani's on the couch. She looked at him — that small, unspoken connection sparking again — and he just gave her that calm, grounding look.
We'll handle it, his eyes said.
And she believed him.
~·~
The drive back from her parents' place was quieter than usual at first.
Dubai nights had that muted hum to them — the smooth glide of cars over empty roads, the rhythm of city lights blinking past the windshield, the low buzz of the AC cutting through the silence.
Vaani sat in the passenger seat, one leg tucked slightly under her, her dupatta draped lazily across her lap.
She looked out at the blur of the city, fingers tracing invisible shapes on the glass.
Dhruv's hand rested on the steering wheel, relaxed, steady as always, his other hand on the gear, tapping lightly to the soft radio music that played in the background.
After a few minutes, she turned toward him. "Dhruv... are you sure we'll go drop Vihaan?"
He didn't look at her immediately — his eyes were still on the road, but his expression flickered slightly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.
"Hmm?"
"I mean..." she continued, her voice rising slightly as she leaned toward him, "you have work, Dhruv. You have a ton of stuff going on right now — the expansion plans, the client meetings. You can't just up and leave for two weeks like that. And the time difference—"
"Vaani."
She stopped mid-rant, blinking.
He looked at her now, finally, briefly, one eyebrow raised. "Relax," he said simply, his tone calm — almost amused. "I'll handle it."
She stared at him for a second — then sighed, shaking her head. "You always say that. Like it's magic."
Dhruv smirked lightly. "That's because it usually works."
That made her smile despite herself. She turned her gaze back toward the window but couldn't help the small grin on her lips. "I know you will," she said softly after a pause.
His fingers drummed once against the steering wheel. "Besides," he said casually, "you haven't seen America yet. You'll see it now."
Her head turned sharply toward him, eyes wide. "You remember?"
He glanced at her again, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "I remember things that matter."
For a moment, she didn't say anything — just watched him, the way the streetlights flickered across his jawline, his steady focus, that quiet self-assurance she had fallen in love with. Then she blushed faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Kuch bhi," she muttered, trying to sound unimpressed but failing to hide the small smile that tugged at her lips.
He chuckled — that deep, low sound that always made her chest warm. "We'll go to the embassy tomorrow," he said, turning slightly serious again. "For fingerprints and all that."
"Okay," she nodded, fiddling with her bracelet. "What time?"
"Morning," he replied. "I'll handle the forms tonight."
She looked at him — that word again, handle. It always came so easily to him, like everything was figure-out-able. Like chaos bent itself to his calm.
"So," he added suddenly, glancing sideways, "where else do you want to go?"
She frowned. "What?"
"In the U.S.," he said, almost too casually. "Where do you want to go?"
"Dhruv, no." She shook her head, laughing. "Just New York. We're going for Vihaan, not a vacation."
He made a small noncommittal sound. "Hmm. We'll see."
"Dhruv," she said in mock warning, "we can't just go anywhere!"
He raised an eyebrow, turning into the next lane. "Who's gonna stop me?"
She looked at him incredulously. "No one, Dhruv, but—"
"Then decide," he said, cutting her off again, this time with that playful glint in his eyes that told her he was fully aware of how much it annoyed her.
She huffed, crossing her arms. "You can't keep interrupting me like that."
"Then answer faster," he said, deadpan.
She looked at him, fighting back a laugh. "You're impossible."
He gave a small smirk. "So I've been told."
She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Vihaan will need us, you know. He'll be new there, we'll have to help him settle in, get used to the place—"
Dhruv nodded. "Of course."
"So then how can you say we'll just go roaming around?"
"He only needs us for a week, Vaani," he said calmly. "Once he's set up, he'll have friends, orientation, classes. We'll just be hovering around unnecessarily."
She opened her mouth to argue but paused — because he wasn't wrong. Still, she frowned. "We could roam around with him though."
"We will," Dhruv said, glancing at her with that same quiet finality that ended most debates between them. "But he'll do his own exploring too."
Vaani shook her head, sighing exaggeratedly. "Baapre. So strict. I feel bad for your kids."
That made him glance at her fully — one corner of his mouth curving into that signature half-smile. "Our kids," he corrected softly.
Her eyes widened just a little, and she stammered. "Huh—haan, same thing."
"Sure," he said, smirking.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward — it was that charged, warm kind, where the air itself seemed to hum a little. Vaani turned back to the window, cheeks still slightly pink.
Then, casually, he added, "For the record, the kids will love me."
She looked at him, her expression skeptical. "Oh really? And why's that?"
He didn't miss a beat. "Because I'm a chill person."
That broke her composure — she burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained. "Chill?! You? Please, Dhruv, you are the most serious person I've ever met. You scold me for using the wrong charger!"
"That's called being responsible," he said, deadpan again.
"That's called being an uncle," she countered, wiping tears from her eyes from laughing so hard.
He gave a small smirk. "You still married me."
"Bad decisions happen," she teased, leaning back.
He reached over and flicked her hand lightly. "Watch it."
"See! Not chill!" she said, laughing again.
He shook his head but couldn't hide the small grin tugging at his lips.
The rest of the drive was easy — full of half-finished sentences and laughter and the quiet rhythm of two people who could talk about nothing for hours and still have it mean something.
At one point, Vaani leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes, still smiling. "I'm glad we went, Dhruv," she said softly. "To Aai and Baba's."
He hummed in agreement. "It was the right thing."
"Yeah," she said after a moment. "And thank you — for offering to go. I think they really needed that peace of mind."
He glanced at her, his voice low but warm. "They're family. That's what we do."
And that was Dhruv — simple, steady, never loud, but always there.
Outside, the roads stretched empty, the skyline glittering faintly in the distance. The Burj lights shimmered faintly in the rearview mirror as they turned off the highway toward home.
Inside the car, it was quiet again — but the good kind of quiet. The kind filled with unspoken comfort, soft music, and a sense that everything — somehow — was going to be just fine.
When they pulled into the parking lot, she looked at him before getting out. "You really think our kids will love you?"
He smirked, unlocking the doors. "They won't have a choice."
She rolled her eyes, laughing. "God help them then."
He looked at her, eyes glinting faintly under the car's dim light. "They'll have you. They'll be fine."
That made her go quiet for a second — just staring at him, that warmth blooming somewhere deep in her chest. Then she smiled, soft and full. "You're impossible, you know that?"
He shrugged. "And yet..."
She chuckled, opening the door. "Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. Come on, mister chill person."
He got out too, locking the car behind them, and together they walked back up to their flat — the laughter still hanging between them like the fading glow of headlights on the road.
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