88
The next morning, sunlight slipped quietly through the hotel's pale curtains, brushing against the beige carpet and the edge of the bed where Vaani had been curled up.
The city outside had already begun its usual rhythm — cars honking, people talking, and the faint hum of morning life that New York wore like a second skin.
Vaani stirred, blinking herself awake. For a moment, she just lay there, letting her mind catch up — the faint fog from last night's drinks still lingering like a mischievous aftertaste.
Then, as the memories returned — the pub, the laughter, Dhruv's quiet patience, the walk back — she smiled softly to herself.
Stretching, she got out of bed and padded toward the bathroom, tying her hair up. Steam soon filled the room, the sound of water blending with the city hum beyond the walls. She hummed softly — a tune from Kal Ho Na Ho that she couldn't seem to get out of her head.
After her shower, she dressed slowly, deliberately.
She'd picked the outfit last night in her half-tipsy excitement: a simple yet elegant white dress that fell just below her knees, with white sneakers and a soft beige trench coat to throw over it.
She brushed through her hair, keeping it loose and natural, and added a touch of pink lip gloss.
As she stood before the mirror, adjusting her earrings, she caught sight of herself and laughed quietly.
"You're really doing this, aren't you, Vaani?" she murmured under her breath. "SRK fangirl to the core."
Just then, she heard the bathroom door open and Dhruv's voice, low and groggy, break the quiet. "Morning."
He'd just come out of the shower, towel around his neck, hair slightly damp, wearing a crisp light-blue shirt that made him look almost too effortlessly composed for someone who'd woken up ten minutes ago.
"Good morning," she replied brightly, glancing at him.
He nodded distractedly as he bent down to tie his shoelaces, still half focused on getting ready. "Good morning, Vaan."
The word slipped out of him so naturally, so unthinking, that it took her a second to process it.
Her head snapped up. "Wait... what did you just call me?"
He froze mid-motion, one lace still untied. "Hmm?"
"You called me Vaan," she said, her tone almost surprised — soft, but edged with something curious.
He looked up at her, brows furrowed as if trying to recall his own words. "Did I?"
She nodded slowly, eyes still wide.
Dhruv just stared at her for a moment, then smiled faintly. He got up, walked over, and without a word, leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Guess I did," he murmured, the corners of his lips turning up.
Her heart stuttered a little at that — it was such a small thing, but the way he said it, casually yet tenderly, made her cheeks warm.
"Okay, Chalo," he said, stepping back and picking up his wallet and phone.
She blinked, still a bit flustered. "We're on our own today, Dhruv."
He paused halfway to the door. "What do you mean?"
"Vihaan messaged," she said, picking up her bag. "He's going to his societies fair — the student clubs and all. He'll be busy the whole day."
Dhruv nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough." He looked at her for a second, eyes narrowing slightly. "Wait. Why are you dressed in all white?"
She smiled, glancing down at herself — the soft white dress, the sneakers, the trench coat. "Glad you asked."
He groaned playfully. "Don't think I'll be glad to know, but okay, go on."
She took a step closer, tilting her head with that mischievous spark in her eyes. "Look," she said, gesturing dramatically to her outfit. "This is what SRK wore in Kal Ho Naa Ho — when he's at the Brooklyn Bridge and in the title track. He wore all white and I intend to do the same."
Dhruv stared at her, deadpan. "You're kidding."
"Nope."
He sighed. "I guess we now know where we're going today."
She grinned. "Brooklyn Bridge!"
He smirked. "You're impossible."
"Admit it," she said, poking his chest lightly. "You love that I'm impossible."
He chuckled. "I'll admit you're something, yes."
"Something wonderful," she added with mock pride.
"Something dramatic," he corrected, reaching for his jacket.
As they headed out of the room, she grabbed his arm. "Dhruv, you have to take pictures of me there. I've dreamt about this moment since I was fifteen."
"I believe you," he said dryly, pressing the elevator button.
"No, I mean it! Every SRK fan dreams of doing that walk on the Brooklyn Bridge."
"Walking on a bridge?" he teased. "Such lofty ambitions."
She rolled her eyes. "It's symbolic, Dhruv. You wouldn't understand."
He gave her a sideways look. "Try me."
She smiled, softening a bit. "It's... the bridge, the song, the city — it's all about life moving forward. About how fleeting it all is, but also how beautiful. You know... Kal Ho Naa Ho."
His expression shifted slightly, becoming thoughtful. "Hmm. Maybe you're right."
"Maybe?" she repeated.
"Okay, you're right," he said, smiling faintly.
"Thank you," she said, satisfied. "Now stop teasing and let's go."
They made their way out of the hotel, the chill morning air biting lightly against their faces.
The sky was clear, a pale blue stretching endlessly overhead, and the streets hummed with that characteristic New York rhythm — coffee cups in hands, taxis honking, snippets of different languages weaving together like a mosaic.
They grabbed coffee from a small café on the corner, and as they walked, Dhruv found himself watching her — the way she held her cup close for warmth, her eyes darting from building to building, taking in every detail like it was a scene from her favorite movie.
"You're unusually quiet," she said suddenly, glancing at him.
"Just observing," he replied.
"What are you observing?"
"You," he said simply.
She blinked, surprised, then smiled shyly. "And what do you conclude from your observations?"
He shrugged, smirking. "That SRK has some serious competition."
She laughed, her eyes lighting up. "You just compared yourself to Shah Rukh Khan?"
"No," he said. "I compared you to Preity Zinta."
She gasped. "That's even better!"
He shook his head, laughing softly.
By the time they reached the subway station, Vaani was bubbling with excitement.
They took the train to Brooklyn, and as they emerged onto the bridge, the city unfolded around them — the Manhattan skyline on one side, the open water on the other, the faint wind carrying the sounds of traffic and chatter.
Vaani's eyes widened. "Oh wow," she whispered. "It's even better in real life."
Dhruv looked at her, not the view. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It is."
She didn't notice. She was too busy spinning around, trying to take it all in. "Dhruv! Take a photo!"
He chuckled and lifted his phone, taking a few shots as she posed dramatically — arms stretched wide, hair flying, laughing like a child.
"Wait!" she said, running back to him. "Now one together!"
"Vaani..."
"No arguments," she said firmly, holding up her phone.
He sighed but leaned in beside her. The camera clicked.
When she looked at the photo afterward, she smiled softly — her wide grin, his faint smile, the bridge behind them. It looked like a moment from a story.
"See?" she said, showing him. "Perfect."
He nodded, still smiling faintly. "Yeah, perfect."
They stood there for a while, just watching the river and the skyline, the city moving on beneath them. And for a moment — with her laughter echoing against the wind and the warmth of his hand brushing hers — it really did feel like they were living their own version of Kal Ho Naa Ho.
Because in that fleeting, golden light of morning, everything — the city, the noise, the air, and the two of them — seemed to pause just long enough to feel infinite.
The cab slowed to a stop at the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge promenade.
The second Vaani stepped out, the cool wind hit her face — crisp, clean, carrying that mix of city dust and river air that somehow felt alive.
The skyline stretched out before her like a dream — glass towers, steel lines, the faint shimmer of the East River below.
Her eyes widened, sparkling like a child at a candy store. "Oh my god, oh my god, Dhruv!" she squealed, spinning around once as her hair caught the wind. "This is it! This is the Brooklyn Bridge!"
Dhruv smiled faintly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black coat. "You're a kid, Vaani."
She turned, grinning ear to ear. "A very excited and very happy kid," she said proudly.
He shook his head, half amused, half indulgent. "Clearly."
She took a few steps ahead, her sneakers tapping lightly against the old wooden planks. "I've seen this bridge in so many movies," she said dreamily. "Kal Ho Naa Ho, When Harry Met Sally, Enchanted... oh my god, Dhruv, I can't believe I'm actually here!"
He followed behind, his gait calm, steady — the opposite of her bubbling excitement. "Where do I need to take the photo?"
She turned back sharply, pointing toward the middle span where the cables rose symmetrically like a web of silver lines. "There! Come come, this angle is perfect!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Are we sure this is a photo op and not a film shoot?"
"Dhruv!" she warned, mock scolding. "Do it nicely, I'm posting these!"
He chuckled. "I am doing it nicely, relax."
"No no," she said, fussing with her hair. "Make sure the skyline is in the back. And my whole dress shows. And don't zoom in too much, I want the bridge in it too."
"Yes, ma'am," he said dryly, holding up her phone and framing the shot. "Ready?"
She struck a pose — one hand on the railing, one brushing her hair away, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Then another, with her arms open wide, laughing into the wind.
"Okay," Dhruv said, lowering the phone after the fifth picture. "I think the bridge has officially had enough of us."
She hurried over, peeking at the photos. "Hmm..." she said thoughtfully. "These are actually good! You have potential, Mr. Photographer."
"High praise," he said with a small smile. "Should I add 'Instagram husband' to my résumé?"
"Absolutely," she said, still scrolling. Then she looked up at him mischievously. "You also come, Dhruvi."
He blinked. "What?"
"You're also coming in a photo," she said, already walking toward him.
He frowned slightly, though there was the faintest tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "No, I'm good."
"Come yaar," she insisted, tugging at his sleeve. "One picture. Please."
He sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "Fine."
She grinned triumphantly and looked around until she spotted an older lady passing by. "Excuse me, ma'am, could you please take a photo of us?"
The lady smiled kindly. "Of course, dear."
Dhruv handed over the phone, and Vaani immediately moved closer to him. "Okay, stand here," she said, adjusting his sleeve like she was arranging a model.
"Vaani," he murmured, "you're overthinking this."
"Shh. Smile," she said, stepping beside him.
He smirked slightly, slipping an arm around her waist as the lady raised the phone. Vaani looked up, caught off guard for a second by the warmth of his hand against her coat, and then smiled softly. The lady took two pictures before handing the phone back.
"You two look gorgeous together," she said warmly.
Vaani smiled wide. "Thank you!" she said brightly.
Dhruv nodded politely, "Thank you, ma'am."
As the lady walked away, Vaani turned to Dhruv, still smiling. "See? Even random strangers can see it."
"See what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
"That we look good together," she said proudly.
He gave her a sideways glance, a teasing smirk forming. "We do, huh?"
"Yes," she said with mock seriousness. "Very."
He chuckled softly. "Okay, Miss Bollywood, where next?"
"Central Park!" she said instantly, her excitement reigniting.
He blinked. "That was quick."
"I planned the whole day last night," she admitted, pulling out her phone to show a list. "Bridge, check. Central Park, next. Specifically Bethesda Terrace — that's where SRK stood in Kal Ho Naa Ho!"
Dhruv sighed, smiling. "You're unbelievable."
"You love it," she said confidently.
He looked at her, amused. "Chalo."
They hailed a cab and headed toward Central Park. The city blurred past — rows of brownstones, glass towers, little cafés with people spilling out onto sidewalks. By the time they reached the park, the sun was higher, filtering golden through the branches.
Vaani practically bounced out of the cab. "Ohhh my god, Dhruv, it's so beautiful!"
The park stretched endlessly before them — golden leaves, people walking dogs, kids running around, and the distant sound of a violinist playing under an archway.
Dhruv smiled faintly as she looked around in wonder. "So this is where Shah Rukh Khan changed your life?"
She gasped. "Exactly here!"
They walked toward Bethesda Terrace, and the fountain came into view — sunlight glinting off the water, tourists scattered around, an artist sketching quietly by the steps.
"Wow," she whispered, slowing down. "It's even prettier than I imagined."
Dhruv looked around, taking in the scenery with a calmer kind of appreciation. "You really have a thing for movie spots, don't you?"
"They're not just movie spots," she said. "They're emotions."
He raised an eyebrow. "Emotions."
"Yes," she said earnestly. "Like here — this fountain, this spot — it's where he says that life doesn't wait. That we should live every moment fully. It's... poetic."
He looked at her for a moment, quietly, then nodded. "You're right."
She smiled, pleased. "See, I knew you'd get it."
They walked closer to the fountain. She ran her fingers along the cool stone railing, taking in the carvings and the distant sound of the violin. Then she spun around and faced him.
"Okay, photographer, duty calls again."
He groaned softly. "Again?"
"Yes, again," she said, pointing at the fountain. "I need photos here too."
He sighed dramatically. "You owe me for this."
"I'll buy you coffee," she said quickly.
He smiled. "Deal."
She positioned herself by the fountain, looking radiant against the sunlight, and he snapped a few pictures. "One more!" she called. "Now from that side!"
He rolled his eyes but did as told.
When she came to see, she gasped. "Dhruv! These are stunning! How are you so good at this?"
"Natural talent," he said with a straight face.
She laughed. "Or maybe because you're the subject of my happiness right now."
He gave her a look, half amused, half tender. "You're in a good mood today."
"I'm in New York with you," she said simply. "How can I not be?"
He didn't reply right away — just looked at her for a moment longer than usual.
Then she broke the silence, clapping her hands. "Okay! Let's walk around!"
They spent the next hour strolling through the park — watching street performers, sitting by the lake, talking about everything and nothing.
Vaani would point out little details — "Look, a squirrel!
" or "That couple looks straight out of a Hallmark movie" — and Dhruv would just smile, quietly amused, occasionally teasing her about her tourist energy.
When they finally sat on a bench overlooking the fountain again, Vaani sighed, leaning back. "This city is magic."
Dhruv nodded. "It is."
"Dhruv?" she said softly after a pause.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for bringing me here."
He looked at her, then smiled — small, genuine. "You don't have to thank me, Vaan."
She blinked. "You said it again."
He smirked. "Maybe it's growing on me."
She chuckled, shaking her head, her heart strangely light. "It suits you."
And as the afternoon sun stretched over the park, painting everything gold, they sat together in the middle of that quiet hum of New York — two people, one story, and a city that somehow made everything feel like a scene worth remembering.
~·~
The late afternoon light slanted lazily through the trees of Central Park as Vaani and Dhruv finally decided to pull themselves away from Bethesda Terrace.
The fountain's sound faded behind them as they strolled toward the park's exit, Vaani holding Dhruv's arm loosely, her white dress swaying with each step.
Her stomach gave a small growl, loud enough for him to hear.
Dhruv glanced at her, smirking. "Was that... thunder?"
She laughed, swatting his arm. "Don't mock me! I'm starving, Dhruv. We've been walking for hours!"
"Hours?" he teased. "We've been walking for maybe... forty minutes."
"Forty minutes in New York traffic time is like three hours," she argued, dramatically clutching her stomach. "Let's go eat something, please."
He chuckled, pulling out his phone. "Fine, fine. What are you in the mood for?"
"Something New York-y," she said instantly. "Like pizza. Or those giant pretzels. Or—" she gasped dramatically— "churros from a street cart."
He shook his head. "You've watched too many rom-coms."
"And you haven't watched enough," she countered.
They walked out toward the street where the park met 59th and Columbus Circle. The faint scent of roasted nuts and caramel wafted through the air, mingling with the city buzz — cabs honking, people laughing, the distant wail of a siren.
"Okay," Dhruv said, scanning the food stands. "There's a pretzel cart right there."
Vaani's eyes lit up. "Perfect!"
They made their way to the cart, and the vendor — a cheerful man in his fifties with a thick accent — greeted them warmly.
"Two pretzels, please," Vaani said with a grin. "And a lemonade!"
"Just one pretzel for me," Dhruv added.
The man quickly handed them their food, steam rising from the golden-brown pretzels. Vaani took a bite and almost melted. "Oh my god. This is so good."
Dhruv chuckled, tearing off a piece of his. "It's literally just bread and salt, Vaani."
"Bread and salt made by the hands of the American dream, Dhruv," she said with mock reverence.
He rolled his eyes but smiled. "You're impossible."
They found a small bench nearby, sitting side by side as they ate and people-watched — a mix of tourists, joggers, and locals hurrying home from work.
"This city really doesn't stop moving, does it?" Vaani said between bites.
"Nope," Dhruv said. "That's New York for you. You can stand still for a second and still feel like you're moving."
She turned to him, intrigued. "You talk like someone who's in love with this place."
He looked out at the skyline. "Maybe I am. It gave me a lot. Peace, perspective... pizza."
She laughed. "Ah yes, the three P's of personal growth."
He smiled faintly, eyes still scanning the view. "When I was studying here, I used to come to this park every Sunday. Just sit and watch people. It reminded me that everyone's chasing something — a job, love, freedom, sometimes just a good cup of coffee."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're quite the philosopher when you want to be, huh?"
"Don't spread that around," he said dryly. "Ruins my serious image."
"Too late," she teased. "I'll tell everyone my husband is a poet of pretzels."
He looked at her then — that soft, small smile that he never gave easily — and said, "Only for you."
Her chest fluttered, but before she could say anything, she clapped her hands. "Okay! I know where we're going next."
"Where?" he asked suspiciously.
She grinned. "Times Square."
Dhruv groaned. "Oh god, no."
"Oh god, yes," she said, standing up and pulling him along. "You can't bring me to New York and not take me to Times Square. That's like going to Paris and skipping the Eiffel Tower."
He sighed, letting her drag him. "It's loud, chaotic, full of tourists—"
"So basically me," she said, interrupting him.
He stopped mid-step, staring at her. Then he chuckled. "Touché."
They hailed a cab and soon enough, the chaos began to unfold outside their window — skyscrapers flashing with LED lights, billboards towering above them, music booming from every direction.
When the cab stopped, Vaani gasped audibly. "Dhruv..." she said, eyes wide, "...this is insane."
He paid the cab fare and looked around, slipping one hand into his coat pocket. "Welcome to the city's beating heart," he said. "Every hour here feels like midnight."
The lights were everywhere — bright blues, reds, yellows, flashing across faces and windows. People filled the square in every direction, taking pictures, laughing, filming TikToks. The air buzzed with energy.
Vaani turned slowly, overwhelmed by it all. "It's like... chaos, but beautiful chaos."
"That's one way to describe it," Dhruv said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I used to walk through here after long study nights. Just... to remind myself I was part of something bigger."
"Wow," she said softly. "You and your poetic moments again."
He smirked. "Don't get used to them."
"Oh, I already am."
They wandered through the square — Vaani taking photos of everything. "Dhruv! Look, that's the M the chaos of Midtown gave way to the calm rhythm of the west side, where the air began to carry a faint, cool breeze.
Vaani looked at the horizon ahead — the faint reflection of sunset rippling over what looked like water. "Wait," she said suddenly, realization dawning on her face. "Are we going to the Hudson?"
Dhruv glanced at her, his lips curling. "Maybe."
She gasped. "We are! Dhruv!"
He chuckled under his breath, saying nothing.
By the time they reached the Hudson River promenade, the sky had turned a deep shade of indigo.
The streetlights flickered on, their warm glow spilling across the cobblestone walkway.
Boats drifted lazily across the dark water, their lights twinkling like stars.
The air smelled faintly of salt and city wind.
Vaani stopped walking for a moment, staring out at the wide expanse before her. "Wow," she whispered, her voice almost reverent. "Dhruv... this is beautiful."
He watched her, a small, genuine smile playing at his lips. "It is," he said quietly. "Always has been."
She turned to him. "You've been here before, huh?"
He nodded, hands resting on the railing. "Yeah. A lot, actually. Used to come here whenever..." He paused, searching for the right words. "...whenever things felt too much. Or when I needed to think. Or just when the city felt too loud, and I didn't want to go home yet."
She looked at him, the golden glow of the streetlamp painting soft shadows across his face. "So this was your quiet place."
He nodded slightly, eyes still on the river.
After a beat, she asked softly, "You don't mind me being here?"
He frowned lightly, turning to face her. "What does that mean?"
She shrugged, looking away toward the dark river. "I mean... there are places where people prefer to be alone. Like it's theirs, you know? Sacred almost. I thought maybe this was like that for you."
He studied her for a long moment — her earnest eyes, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. Then he said simply, "You're allowed to be at my place, Vaani."
She blinked at him, warmth spreading across her face. "Am I?"
"Yeah," he said quietly. "You're the exception."
She smiled, the corners of her lips curving softly. "Then I'm honored."
He chuckled. "You should be."
She leaned against the railing beside him, both of them watching the ripples move across the water. "So what's your favorite part of this view?"
He thought for a second. "Probably that skyline. The way it looks just before it turns completely dark. There's this small window where it feels like the whole city holds its breath."
She followed his gaze and nodded. "It's stunning."
After a moment, he turned to her. "What about you? What's your place?"
She sighed, smiling faintly. "The riverside in Oxford. There's a stretch behind the main quad — it's quiet, barely anyone goes there. You can see the willows dipping into the water. That's where I'd go whenever... life got overwhelming."
He looked at her curiously. "We didn't go there, did we?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Why not?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She hesitated. "Because... it's usually busy when we went out. And I thought you might not—"
"Might not what?" he pressed gently.
She exhaled, a little embarrassed. "I thought you might not be interested."
He sighed softly, turning toward her fully. "You could've told me, Vaani."
She frowned. "Excuse me? You look so angry all the time! How was I supposed to tell you about some random riverside spot?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't look angry all the time."
"Yes, you do!" she said, laughing now. "That brooding face of yours? It's scary sometimes!"
He smirked. "Okay fine, you win."
"Of course I do," she said proudly, crossing her arms.
He raised an eyebrow. "So if we ever go to Oxford again, are you taking me there?"
She nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah. I will."
"We'll see," he said, his tone playful.
She nudged his shoulder lightly. "Are you angry at me?" she asked, pretending to pout.
He turned his head toward her, his eyes darkening just slightly — that teasing seriousness she recognized instantly. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I am."
Her breath caught. "Oh?" she said, voice soft. "So now what?"
He stepped closer, closing the small space between them, his hand finding her waist. "Now this," he murmured.
And before she could respond, he kissed her — soft at first, then deeper, the wind curling gently around them as the lights shimmered across the water.
Her hand found his shirt, holding onto him as if the whole world had narrowed down to this exact moment — the hum of the city behind them, the river in front, and the warmth between them.
When he finally pulled away, his lips curved in a faint smirk. "Anger gone," he said quietly.
She let out a soft laugh, slightly breathless. "Good."
They stood there, neither rushing to move. The river whispered below, and the city hummed in the distance.
"Thanks for bringing me here," she said finally, breaking the silence.
He looked at her, eyes soft. "Thank you for coming."
She tilted her head, curious. "Did you ever think you'd bring someone here? To your... place?"
He glanced away, thoughtful. "Hmm," he hummed, but didn't say anything.
She watched him for a moment, smiling at his quietness — how his silence said more than words ever could.
After a moment, she leaned closer, wrapping her arm through his, resting her head lightly against his shoulder. "You know," she said softly, "it's kind of perfect."
He glanced at her. "What is?"
"This," she said, motioning to the skyline, the water, them. "You, me, and the river."
He looked back out at the Hudson — the soft reflection of the lights shimmering on its surface — and smiled faintly. "Yeah," he said, his voice low. "It is."
And so they stood there — two silhouettes against the fading glow of New York, bound not by words but by something quieter, steadier.
The wind tugged gently at her hair, the river murmured beneath them, and as the last streaks of sunlight melted into night, Vaani's hand tightened around his arm — a small, silent promise in the middle of a city that never stopped moving.
~·~
The city was winding down by the time they got back to the hotel, the hum of New York softening into something gentler, more intimate.
The streets outside their window glowed faintly golden from the lights below, and a kind of quiet comfort filled the room as Dhruv and Vaani stepped inside.
She tossed her bag onto the couch with a sigh, stretching her arms up dramatically.
"Ahh," she said, spinning once before plopping onto the bed. "My feet are actually dying. How do New Yorkers walk this much?"
Dhruv chuckled, taking off his jacket and hanging it neatly on the back of the chair. "You insisted on walking everywhere. Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park, Times Square... you basically gave yourself a walking tour of half of Manhattan."
She turned to him, grinning. "And you're welcome, by the way. Now you got to see it all again too."
"I didn't need to," he said, amused.
She gasped dramatically. "Wow. Someone's ungrateful."
He smiled, shaking his head as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "No, someone's tired."
"Well," she said, pulling a pillow close and hugging it, "someone should rest then."
He looked at her sideways. "Someone?"
"Yes," she said sweetly. "You, mister."
He laughed softly under his breath. "Okay, someone will."
They sat like that for a moment, the sound of the air conditioner humming softly, the city lights flickering outside. Dhruv leaned back slightly, scrolling through his phone, while Vaani watched him from her side of the bed.
"So," she said, after a pause, her voice light. "What's tomorrow's plan?"
He didn't look up from his phone immediately. "We'll start by having breakfast downstairs," he said casually.
"Okay," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Then?"
He swiped his phone screen once more before finally looking at her, that faint half-smile tugging at his lips. "Then we'll leave for the airport."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Airport?"
He nodded, perfectly calm.
"Dhruv," she said, sitting up properly now. "Airport as in... flight airport?"
He glanced at her like it was obvious. "Yes, Vaani. Airport as in flight airport. Not the metaphorical kind."
She groaned, picking up a cushion and hitting him lightly with it. "Don't be a smartass. Tell me—flight to where?"
He smirked, dodging the pillow easily. "You'll know tomorrow."
"Dhruv!" she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-pouting. "Saangha na Dhruv!"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Vaani..."
"Tell me!" she insisted, her voice now soft but dramatic. "Saangha na Dhruv, please?"
He sighed, tilting his head, feigning irritation though he couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes. "I want to surprise you. Do you mind?"
She stared at him for a moment, then dropped the act, her expression softening. "Okay fine," she said, almost smiling. "You and your secrets."
"Not secrets," he corrected, voice low. "Just surprises."
She chuckled. "You make it sound poetic."
He leaned back on his hands, looking at her with that small smirk that was starting to feel dangerously familiar. "That's because it is."
She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Sure, Mr. Romantic."
Then, without warning, she reached forward and cupped his chin with both hands, gently turning his face from side to side like a mother inspecting her child. "Aww look at you, keeping secrets. My little boy's all grown up."
Dhruv blinked, frozen for a second. "What are you—are you my mother now?"
She pursed her lips, tilting her head in mock seriousness. "Of course. Now open your mouth, have some milk, and go to bed."
He scoffed, moving her hands away gently. "You're actually insane."
"And you love it," she teased.
He smirked. "Do I?"
"Yes," she said confidently. "Because otherwise, you wouldn't still be sitting here instead of running for your life."
He chuckled softly, conceding with a shake of his head. "Fine. You win... again."
She raised an eyebrow proudly. "As always."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward — it was that warm, easy quiet that came when two people had said enough for the night. Vaani shifted on the bed, pulling the blanket up slightly, and Dhruv switched off the bedside lamp, letting the city's glow spill softly across the room instead.
After a moment, she turned her head toward him. "You didn't tell me what time the flight is."
He looked at her through the dim light. "Tomorrow evening."
"So we have the whole morning free?"
"Yep."
She hummed thoughtfully. "Good. I'll make sure you don't waste it sleeping."
He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she said with a sleepy grin. "You're not spending our last morning here doing emails or calls or pretending to read news."
"Pretending?" he said, feigning offense. "I actually read the news."
She laughed softly. "Sure, Dhruv. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"Speaking of sleeping," he said, lying down fully now, his head resting on the pillow, "maybe you should stop talking."
"Rude," she muttered, turning away dramatically.
He chuckled. "Goodnight, Mrs. Rude."
She turned back instantly. "Goodnight, Dhruvi."
He froze mid-breath — not because she'd said it, but because of how she said it. It wasn't teasing this time. It was soft. Warm. Natural.
He looked at her, smiling faintly. "Goodnight, darling."
Her eyes softened. "Hmm," she hummed, half-asleep already, her lips curling into a small smile.
Dhruv lay there for a moment longer, watching her breathe quietly. Her hair had fallen loosely over her cheek, the city lights painting faint lines of gold across her face. Something about the sight — her peaceful, completely unguarded — made his chest tighten just a little.
He turned his gaze to the window, the skyline stretching endlessly beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, the river still whispered under the bridges, the streets still buzzed with life — but here, in this quiet little pocket of New York, everything felt still.
He reached out absently, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, careful not to wake her. Then he whispered, almost to himself, "Sleep well, Vaan."
Her lips moved faintly, as if she heard him in her dream, and she murmured something indistinct before curling slightly closer toward his side of the bed.
Dhruv smiled to himself, eyes soft, and turned off the last light. Outside, the city glowed. Inside, for the first time in years, it felt like home.
??