11. The Mountain Getaway
It was 8:00 AM on Friday, and Ruhika found herself sandwiched in the very back row of the traveller van.
To her left was the window, offering a blurring view of the highway, and to her right was Shivansh.
He looked remarkably composed for a man who had been virtually kidnapped by his younger brother.
"You look like you're mentally calculating the lost billable hours," Ruhika whispered, leaning toward him as the van lurched forward.
Shivansh didn't look up from his tablet, but a small smile quirked his lips. "I'm calculating how many kilometers it will take before Rohan and Aarav lose their voices.
They hadn't even cleared the city limits before the speakers roared to life. Isha, sitting in the row directly in front of them, turned around with a predatory grin.
She tapped her phone, and the opening notes of 'Bole Chudiyan' exploded through the cabin.
"No!" Ruhika groaned, burying her face in her hands."Isha, it is too early for the K3G soundtrack!"
"It is never too early for a classic!" Rohan yelled from the front.
Aarav, sitting in the passenger seat, didn't even hesitate. He joined in, his shoulders grooving in perfect sync.
Shivansh leaned closer to Ruhika, his voice a low vibration beneath the music. "Aarav practiced these steps for our cousin's wedding three years ago. He still hasn't forgotten a single beat."
Two hours into the drive, the "Bollywood Medley" had transitioned into a heated, high-decibel debate between Rohan and Aarav about the best cricket captain of all time.
Mehak and Isha were busy arguing over which lehenga color was 'in' for the season. The noise was a physical wall.
Shivansh quietly reached into his pocket and pulled out his earbud case. He offered one to Ruhika.
"Noise cancellation?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with hope.
"Peace and quiet," he confirmed.
As she tucked the bud into her ear, a soft, acoustic melody began to play—something slow and instrumental. It was as if they had stepped out of a crowded room into a private garden.
They didn't talk; they just shared the rhythm. With every curve of the mountain road, their shoulders brushed. The contact was no longer accidental or polite, it was a constant, steady presence.
They stopped at a misty dhaba perched on a cliffside for Maggi and chai. The mountain air was sharp, a sudden contrast to the humid city they'd left behind.
Ruhika rubbed her arms, realizing her light cardigan was a poor match for the altitude.
Before she could even mention she was hungry, Shivansh was at the counter. When the food arrived, he placed a steaming plate in front of her.
They all raised their paper cups.
Shivansh didn't look at the group; he looked at Ruhika. In the sharp mountain light, his eyes were a deep, clear brown. He lifted his cup slightly toward her before taking a sip, a private gesture in the middle of the loud, messy meal.
"To the madness," Ruhika whispered, her eyes meeting his.
"To the madness," he agreed, his voice a low hum.
For a moment, the bickering of their friends faded into the background. It was just the steam from the tea, the smell of woodsmoke, and the weight of his shoulder against hers.
The traveler pulled away from the dhaba, the engine grumbling as it tackled the steeper incline toward Mussoorie. The seating arrangement had shifted naturally in the post-meal haze.
Aarav took the wheel with Isha shotgun, while Rohan and Mehak had claimed the back row to start a highly competitive game of cards.
This left Shivansh and Ruhika in the middle row—two captain's chairs separated by a narrow aisle.
As the road grew more curvy, the playful chatter in the van died down. The rhythmic swaying began to take its toll.
Ruhika leaned her head back, her eyes fluttering shut, but every time the traveler hugged a sharp curve, her head would jar against the window frame.
Shivansh hadn't turned a page of his book in twenty minutes. He watched her from the corner of his eye, his brow furrowing every time she winced.
Finally, as the car swung hard to the left, Ruhika's head hit the glass again. She let out a tiny, frustrated sigh, her eyes remaining squeezed shut.
Without a word, Shivansh moved across the small gap, sitting on the very edge of his seat so he was closer to her. He reached up, his fingers brushing the AC vent above her head to tilt the chill away from her face.
"Ruhika," he whispered. "Open your eyes for a second."
He reached into his pocket, unwrapped a small ginger candy he'd kept from the dhaba, and held it out. "Eat this. It'll help with the nausea."
As she took it, her fingers brushed his palm, sending a small jolt through him that had nothing to do with the car's movement.
"The window is too hard," he said softly, his voice a steady anchor against the swaying of the car. "Lean this way."
"I'm fine, Shivansh, I don't want to—"
He reached out and guided her head away from the rattling window. Instead of letting her fall back against her own headrest, he shifted his position, bracing himself so she could lean against his shoulder.
He took her hand—which was ice-cold—and folded it into his own, resting their joined hands on the armrest between them.
"Close your eyes," he commanded softly. "I've got you."
Ruhika didn't have the energy to argue. She let her weight settle against him, the scent of his coat—a mix of cold mountain air and subtle cologne—instantly soothing her. Within minutes, her breathing evened out.
"Look at that," Rohan's voice drifted from the third row, a stage-whisper that was intentionally not quiet enough. "The man hasn't moved a muscle in the last hour
He's holding his breath like he's afraid he'll break her."
Shivansh didn't look back, but his jaw tightened slightly.
"He's in 'Protector Mode'," Mehak giggled, leaning over the seat from the back.
Shivansh was annoyed at how long the journey was taking now, he didn't pull away. Instead, he reached up with his free hand and subtly adjusted the pashmina shawl he'd draped over her earlier, tucking it in so the mountain draft wouldn't reach her neck.
"If you four don't lower your volume," Shivansh said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that was still careful not to startle the woman on his shoulder,
Aarav chuckled from the driver's seat, catching Shivansh's eye in the rearview mirror. "Does that apply to your fiancée too, Bhai? Or does she get special access to your 'hotspot'?"
Isha, sitting in the front, swatted Aarav's arm. "Stop it, you're going to make her wake up and then she'll be embarrassed and move back to her seat."
She turned slightly, looking back at the two of them with a softened expression.
"She was feeling sick," Shivansh muttered, his ears turning a tell-tale shade of pink.
"Sure, and I drive this car because I love the fuel prices," Aarav retorted
Just then, the car hit a particularly deep rut in the road. Ruhika's head slipped an inch, her nose brushing against the fabric of Shivansh's jacket.
She let out a tiny, subconscious hum of contentment and her fingers, which were laced through his, tightened their hold.
The car went instantly silent. The four, now friends shared a look of pure, unadulterated shock. They had expected awkwardness, but this—the instinctive, quiet comfort between the two—was something they hadn't prepared for.
Aarav cleared his throat, his teasing tone replaced by something unusually sincere. "Okay, fine. I'll drive like there's a sleeping baby in the back. No more bumps."
For the rest of the climb, the teasing turned into a low-volume conversation and ocassional naps
The SUV finally crunched onto the gravel of a sprawling, ivy-covered villa in Landour. The air was crisp, smelling of cedar and woodsmoke.
"Alright, wakey-wakey!" Aarav called out, though much softer than usual.
Ruhika stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against Shivansh's shoulder before she sat up. It took her exactly three seconds to realize where she was and whose hand she was crushing.
She pulled back, her face turning a vivid shade of crimson. "I... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"Don't be shy now, Ruhika!" Rohan yelled, hopping out of the third row. "We've already decided Shivansh is the official travel-pillow for all future family trips."
Aarav hopped out, stretching his limbs with a groan of satisfaction. He walked over to the heavy wooden front door where a caretaker was waiting. After a brief exchange, he turned back to the group, dangling two large, heavy brass keys.
"Alright, people! Listen up," Aarav announced, his voice echoing in the quiet mountain we're down to two large family suites. That means we're splitting up—Old School style."
Rohan rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. Now this is interesting."
Isha narrowed her eyes. "Why is that interesting?"
Mehak looked between Shivansh and Ruhika with dramatic curiosity. "Oh no."
Aarav grinned. "We could do boys in one suite, girls in the other."
"Safe. Boring. Predictable," Rohan added.
Silence.
Ruhika felt it before she looked up. Shivansh was already looking at her.
Rohan clasped his hands together, eyes gleaming. "Picture this. Suite One — engaged couple. Two separate bedrooms, obviously. Doors. Locks. Moral integrity intact. Suite Two — the rest of us degenerates."
Isha gasped. "We are not degenerates."
Ruhika cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice neutral. "There's nothing to discuss."
Rohan leaned against the railing. "Shared hallway encounters. Accidental good mornings. Very... domestic."
Ruhika folded her arms loosely, more to steady herself than anything else. "It's just rooms."
Shivansh finally spoke. "Two bedrooms. Separate."
Ruhika became acutely aware of the space between them. Same suite would mean hearing his footsteps outside her door. Knowing he was just a few steps away at night.
It wasn't inappropriate. It was vulnerable.
"It's fine," she said finally. "Same suite. Two rooms."
Aarav's eyebrows shot up. "Oh ho."
Isha immediately smacked his arm. "Relax. They said separate bedrooms, not Switzerland honeymoon."
She nodded. "Sure."
As they carried their bags inside Behind them, Rohan called out loudly, "Shivansh, remember — doors exist for a reason!"
Shivansh paused at the threshold and looked back, expression perfectly composed. "I'm aware," he said evenly. "You should try using one occasionally."
The group burst into laughter.
Inside the suite, the air was cooler, quieter. Two doors stood opposite each other down a short hallway.
He set her bag near the door to the left. "You take that one," he said. "It has the better window."
For a second, they stood there — not too close, not too distant. Two people about to share a space for the first time.
Still separate.Still careful. But no longer strangers to each other's presence.
From outside, Aarav's voice echoed through the hallway."Four weeks to go, people! Behave!"
Ruhika exhaled a quiet laugh.Shivansh shook his head slightly, but there was a warmth in his eyes now.
"Get some rest," he said.
The bonfire had been lit more for aesthetic than necessity.
Mussoorie evenings weren't freezing yet — just cool enough to make everyone lean closer than usual.
The six of them had migrated to the terrace after dinner. Cushions were scattered on the rug. Someone had opened a pack of cards but abandoned it midway. A half-eaten bowl of chips sat dangerously close to the edge of the table.
Aarav stretched dramatically "I'm bored."
"Exactly."
Rohan leaned back against the sofa. "Truth or dare?"
Shivansh, who had been quietly nursing a cup of tea, raised an eyebrow. "This sounds unwise."
Aarav clapped once. "Good. It begins.
Rohan admitted to pretending he liked poetry to impress someone.
Isha confessed she once stalked a boy's LinkedIn before a date.
Everyone laughed. The energy loosened.
Then Aarav leaned forward. "Okay. He pointed at Shivansh. "When did you first realize you were... invested...with bhabhi?"
Shivansh didn't rush. He glanced once at Ruhika — just once — then back at Aarav.
"When she showed up at home without being asked."
But Shivansh added, calm as ever, "It wasn't about the cake."
Ruhika's eyes flicked to his.
"It was the choice."
The room made exaggerated gagging noises. But between the noise — their gaze held for a fraction longer than necessary.
Isha looked at him sharply. "Don't." He ignored her.
"Serious question. Have you ever been in love?"
She leaned back slightly, fingers loosely interlocked over her knee. "No," she said.
Rohan added, " That's it? I mean if we're doing truths, we do truths properly."
Rohan blinked. "I was just asking."It's okay if you don't want to
The room went still again — but this time respectfully.
"Confident. Easy with people. The kind who made you feel like you mattered."
Isha reached over and squeezed her knee briefly. Ruhika shrugged lightly. She didn't romanticize it.
Aarav glanced at Shivansh. "You jealous, bhai?"
The question was teasing.But also testing.
Shivansh answered evenly. "No."
Everyone looked at him. "No?" Rohan repeated.
He shook his head once. "She was nineteen. "She learned something. That's all."
He leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "There's no secret.
Rohan pointed accusingly and smirked . "You're telling me no one ever liked you?"
"Yes."
The group dissolved into laughter.
"And what did you do?" Mehak asked.
The laughter returned easily after that. Someone threw a cushion at Rohan for being too invested.
Mehak declared Shivansh the "least scandalous man alive." Isha dramatically announced she needed more chaos in her social circle.
The mood loosened again
Finally, Ruhika spoke first. "I haven't told you," she said slowly, eyes still on him, "that sometimes I test you."
And?" Rohan demanded.
That shifted something subtle in the room.
The answer surprised even her.
"Why?" Aarav asked gently.
"Because if I mess up... he won't react loudly. He'll just... absorb it."
Shivansh didn't interrupt. He just listened.
Aarav looked betrayed. "You're my brother."
Aarav rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay.
Shivansh stared at him. "You delayed your marriage by putting mine on a timeline?"
Aarav pointed at him defensively. "I didn't expect you to get engaged three months later!" Besides I'm just 25
Shivansh leaned back now, arms folding. "So Maa thinks you selflessly waited for me?"
Rohan grinned immediately. "Alright. Brutal honesty. Biggest red flag you've ignored in a guy?"
Isha didn't even blink. "Confidence without competence."a man speaks for fifteen minutes and says absolutely nothing meaningful — red flag."
Aarav clutched his chest dramatically. "I feel attacked."
Ruhika shook her head, smiling. Shivansh watched the exchange quietly
Mehak grinned wickedly. "What's something you pretend to hate but actually enjoy?"
Rohan hesitated.
Isha narrowed her eyes. "Say it."
"...Romantic movies," he muttered.
The villa erupted.
"You cried during that airport confession scene!" Aarav yelled.
"It was emotional!" Rohan defended.
Shivansh shook his head lightly. "And later you mocked me for watching that?"
The energy softened after that. Laughter layered over the mountain quiet. Someone refilled snacks. Someone shifted closer to the fire.
Isha's expression softened slightly. "Okay. Last one."
Mehak glanced between them. "Before you met each other — what did you imagine your life partner would be like?"
Shivansh gestured lightly. "You go."
Her eyes lifted briefly toward Shivansh — not dramatically, just naturally.
"Chaos," he said simply. "Not in personality. In values."
He leaned back slightly. "I wanted someone independent. Not impressed by titles. Not intimidated by them either."And someone," he continued, eyes steady now, "who doesn't treat marriage like a rescue mission."
Rohan broke the tension lightly. "Okay but the second part of the question."
The clan decided to end the game as it was late and they were tired from the journey, the day to follow was being planned.
Shivansh noticed Ruhika being sleepy and recalling her earlier motion sickness from the drive, he decided it's time to rest. Taking their keys they moved towards the hallway to the suite
The noise from downstairs had dulled into distant laughter and the clinking of glasses being cleared. Here, it was just the faint whistle of mountain wind slipping in through the balcony doors.
Two rooms. One shared balcony between them.
Ruhika slowed near her door, fingers brushing absently against the brass handle.
Shivansh stopped near his, leaving enough space between them to keep it decent. Close enough to feel it.
The breeze lifted the edge of her sweater again. She folded her arms loosely, not from discomfort — just from the sudden realization that this was the first night they were sleeping in the same suite.
Separate rooms. But still.
He noticed the shift in her posture. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." She hesitated. "It's just strange."
He nodded once, understanding more than she'd said.
There was a moment where it would've been easy to overcompensate. To make a joke. To fill the quiet. He didn't.
Instead, he stepped back half a pace, giving her space before she even asked for it. "You can lock your door,"
he said gently. "And the balcony latch sticks a little — just push it firmly."
The wind shifted again, brushing between them. Her hand tightened briefly on the doorknob.
"Goodnight, Shivansh."
She opened her door, then paused halfway inside. He was still there.
"I'm next door," he added, voice calm, almost casual. "If you need anything."
And something between them that felt safe enough to sleep beside —even with a door in between.
______________
The morning was quieter and serene than the night before
No music.
No laughter.
Just wind brushing against wooden railings and a pale wash of sunlight stretching over the hills.
Ruhika stepped out onto the common balcony with her mug already in hand. She'd woken earlier than she meant to — the mountains did that to her. The air was thinner, cleaner. It cleared thoughts she didn't know had been cluttered.
She wrapped both hands around the cup, letting the warmth settle into her palms.
For a moment, she was alone. Then she heard the soft click of the other door.
She didn't turn immediately but she sensed it
Shivansh stepped out onto the balcony from his room, coffee in hand as well. No watch. No phone. Just a dark sweatshirt and sleep-softened features.
They stood on opposite ends of the balcony at first, separated by a few feet of wooden planks and cool air.
He took a sip from his mug. "You beat everyone."
"So did you."
"I wake up early."
"I've noticed."
A faint smile.
The valley below was still wrapped in mist. The world looked paused. He stepped forward slowly, not closing the distance fully, just enough to stand beside her at the railing.
She broke the silence and said, "I think this is the first time we've stood somewhere without someone calling our names in the background ."
He glanced at her, amused. "You don't enjoy being summoned every three minutes?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "Fair."
A small breeze passed between them. She adjusted her grip on the mug.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
He took another sip, then added casually, "It's quieter here than I expected."
She looked out at the valley. "You don't like quiet?"
Her lips curved faintly. "You make that sound like a complaint."
The breeze picked up again, cooler now. Without thinking, she shifted half a step closer to the railing — and closer to him.
Their shoulders nearly aligned.
"Do you ever think," she began, then stopped.
"What?"
"If it does," he said quietly, "I hope we're not late for work."
She laughed under her breath.
Then he added, softer, "But yes. I think about that sometimes."
"I never said I was."
He leaned back from the railing, finishing his coffee. "That's because I don't announce things."
Her breath caught for just a fraction of a second.
And then— Aarav's voice boomed from inside. "Why are the engaged people missing? Are we eloping already?"
They both stepped back at the same time. Coming," she called out.
By 9 AM, the villa slowly came alive.
Aarav was already announcing a "strict itinerary."
Rohan objected to anything that sounded like discipline.
Isha insisted on photos at every possible scenic point.
By the time the plan was half-decided — waterfall first, then Mall Road, late dinner back — the group scattered to freshen up.
This time, she spoke first. "Breakfast?" she asked, opening the fridge.
He leaned against the counter, " what is even kept in this fridge?"
He nodded seriously. "We cook."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You say that like you're volunteering."
She stared at him for a full second.
"Go freshen up," she said flatly. "You can supervise later."
He didn't argue. Just set his mug down and walked toward his room, muttering, "I was prepared to chop."
The door shut softly. For a moment, the kitchen was hers alone.
She tied her hair properly this time, twisting it into a loose bun. Opened the fridge. Took out eggs. Bread. Butter. The small space felt oddly intimate — like she was borrowing a future for a morning.
She moved with practiced ease, cracking eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a fork. There was something calming about the rhythm of it.
She blinked. "What?"
There was something about the way he said it — not bossy, not performative — just certain. sliding into the chair near the window where sunlight spilled across the table.
He shrugged lightly. "You cooked."
She noticed he ate slower here than he did in the city. Not checking his phone. Not scanning notifications between bites. Just... present.
She took a sip of coffee to hide the faint warmth rising in her cheeks.
Outside, the mountains were fully awake now. Sunlight had shifted from soft gold to bright clarity. Somewhere downstairs, Isha's voice carried up the stairwell.
Once the plates were rinsed and the mugs set aside, they separated wordlessly toward their respective rooms.
Doors closed.
Water ran.
Wardrobes opened.
Ruhika changed into comfortable denims and a soft sweater, tying her hair into a low ponytail this time. She looked at herself once in the mirror. Just picked up her jacket and stepped out.
Shivansh emerged a minute later in dark jeans and a charcoal pullover, sleeves pushed up slightly.
Downstairs, the villa was already buzzing. Tara was adjusting her sunglasses dramatically.
Aarav was arguing about which playlist deserved waterfall rights.
Rohan was claiming he needed "cinematic walking shots."
Mehak had already declared herself the designated photographer.
"There they are!" Aarav pointed.
_____________
The drive up narrowed into a winding road flanked by deodar trees. By the time they parked and began the short trek down, the sound reached them first — distant, steady, like white noise growing louder with each step.
Water hitting stone.
Mist rising.
Ruhika adjusted her sneakers as they navigated the uneven path.
Isha and Mehak had gone ahead, arguing about whose reel would get more views.
Aarav and Rohan were loudly debating who would "bravely" step into freezing water first.
Shivansh stayed a half-step behind Ruhika.
Not hovering. Just... there.
"Careful," he said once, when a loose rock shifted under her foot.
"I'm fine," she replied automatically.
She looked at it for half a second. Then placed her fingers in his.
The waterfall came into full view as they rounded the last bend.
Water spilled down dark rock in silvery sheets, collecting in a shallow pool below. The air was cold and damp, droplets catching in hair and eyelashes.
Isha squealed immediately and ran closer. Rohan followed, nearly slipping.
Ruhika stopped a few steps back. The mist kissed her face.Her hair loosened slightly from the surrounded air
Shivansh watched her more than the waterfall.
"You're not going in?" he asked.
She glanced at the water. "I don't need pneumonia a month before my wedding."
Aarav's voice cut across the clearing. "Bhai! At least come near the edge. We need visual proof you've done something spontaneous once in life."
Shivansh ignored him.
Ruhika had stepped a little away from the main group, toward a flatter rock that overlooked the stream but kept her out of the spray
The wind picked up sharply, sending a cold spray across them. She sucked in a breath, arms folding instinctively.
This time he didn't open his jacket.
Except she noticed. "You're blocking the view," she murmured.
She huffed softly.
Behind them, Isha shouted again, "Picture! Now! Before someone slips and we lose content!"
He studied her for a second. Then, instead of walking back to the group, he extended his hand."Come. Just Two minutes."
She looked at his hand. Then at the rocks.
"You trust me?" he asked simply.
The rocks near the water were damp and uneven. He didn't grip her tightly. Just steady enough to guide her around the slick patches.
When they reached a spot where the waterfall framed the background perfectly, Tara was already holding up her phone like a director.
"Closer!" Isha demanded.
The mist caught in her hair. A drop slid down her cheek. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed it away with his thumb.
Tara lowered the phone slowly. "Okay. That was... unexpectedly soft."
"Shut up," Ruhika muttered, stepping forward immediately.
They moved back toward the group, but the rocks were more slippery on return. Her foot slipped slightly.
He caught her wrist quickly.
She didn't ask what that meant. But something about the way he said it lingered.
They didn't stand apart anymore. They stood beside each other.
Not lovers yet. Not fully settled. But learning — in small, quiet adjustments — how to move through uneven ground together.
__________________
By late afternoon, they were wandering through Mussoorie's Mall Road — shops spilling color onto the pavement, woollens hanging overhead, the smell of roasted corn and cinnamon drifting through the air.
Ruhika walked beside Shivansh, slower than the others and slowed near a small, almost hidden jewellery stall — glass cases lined with silver bangles, oxidised jhumkas, delicate chains, and stacks of slim metal bracelets arranged in quiet symmetry.
Ruhika stopped without announcing it~ again
She didn't step inside. She reached toward a set of slim silver bangles, lifting one gently. It made the faintest chime as it touched the others.
"Not usually," she replied.
But she didn't put it down immediately.
The metal caught the amber shop light.
For a second, she looked less like someone calculating timelines and more like someone simply imagining.
"Too noisy?" he asked.
She tilted her wrist.
The soft clink was barely audible.
"Not really."
They walked on. He didn't say anything. Didn't buy it in front of her.
Instead, when she stopped to examine scarves at the next stall, he quietly stepped back.
The shopkeeper looked up expectantly.
"The slim silver ones," Shivansh said calmly. "The set of four."
"For gift?" the man asked.
"Yes."
The man wrapped them in soft tissue, then in a small brown paper packet.
Shivansh paid and slipped the packet into his jacket pocket.When he caught up to her again, she didn't notice.
They rejoined the others.
It wasn't until they drifted a few steps behind the group again — near a quieter railing overlooking the valley — that he took the packet out.
"Ruhika."
Her fingers stilled. She looked up at him, something softer than surprise settling in her expression.
Before she could slide one on herself, he held his hand out.
She hesitated for half a second — not because she didn't want to, but because the simplicity of the gesture suddenly felt... intimate.
Her hand was already slightly cold from the evening air.
Without comment, he adjusted his grip so his fingers brushed lightly against her wrist.
He paused, adjusting gently.
When it finally settled at her wrist, the faint chime rang out. Soft
His thumb brushed lightly along the inside of her wrist as if ensuring it sat comfortably.
A faint breeze lifted her hair again.She didn't realise she was still holding the empty paper packet until he gently took it from her hand.
"You'll remove them when you work," he said casually.
As they walked back, her wrist brushed against his arm. The bangles chimed again.This time, the sound didn't feel like decoration.It felt like memory beginning.
_______________
Once all of them went back to the Villa, Dinner dissolved slowly into laziness. Empty plates. Half-finished jokes. Someone arguing about who cheated at cards.
By ten, the energy had softened. Rohan disappeared first, declaring himself exhausted."
Mehak followed, dragging Tara with her after a dramatic whisper about skincare routines at altitude.
Aarav lingered the longest, throwing a cushion at Shivansh before finally retreating upstairs with a suspiciously loud, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Only the faint crackle of the fireplace downstairs and the hum of distant wind remained.
Ruhika stood by the staircase, looking toward the balcony doors. "Do you want to sit outside for a bit?" she asked and Shivansh nodded
They stepped into the balcony without turning on the lights.
The hills were darker now — only scattered lights blinking in the valley below like distant constellations. The air was colder than the morning.
She leaned lightly against the railing. A soft breeze lifted the ends of her hair. The silver bangles on her wrist chimed gently when she adjusted her shawl.
Her fingers stilled around the edge of her shawl. For a second, the night felt quieter than before.
"You're very sure I'll be nearby," she said lightly, though there was something steadier beneath it.
He leaned back against the railing, looking out at the dark outline of the hills. "I wouldn't be standing here if I wasn't."
After a moment, she went back into her room and almost immediately returned. "I got something," she said.
He took it from her fingers.For a second, she thought he would put it on. Instead, he held it between them and then quietly handed it back.
"You do it," he said.
She stepped closer.
Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him through the thin layer of fabric between them.
They rested there for a second too long.He didn't step back.Didn't close the distance either.Just stood there.
Breathing the same cold mountain air.
Silence.Her own words echoed louder than the mountain wind.
Her breath hitched just a fraction. "That's... not something you're supposed to say so calmly," she murmured.
He tilted his head slightly. "Why?"
"Because then I don't know what to do with it."
A softer smile finally appeared on his face. "You don't have to do anything with it," he said.
And somehow, that steadiness made her even more flustered. She shook her head once, exhaling through a quiet laugh.
"You're Annoying ."
But as she turned toward her door, she could still feel it
The way he had said, I don't mind.
And the way, despite herself — She didn't either.
______________
The next morning felt slower.
Unhurried.
They had woken late, dragged themselves through a lazy breakfast, and then—at Mehak's insistence—booked a last-minute spa slot in town.
"Because," Mehak had declared, "if you two are about to become bride and groom in four weeks, at least look rested."
Ruhika had rolled her eyes.
Shivansh had paid the bill without argument.
Now, freshly showered, mildly relaxed, and significantly more aware that real life was waiting back in Delhi, they loaded their bags into the traveller again.
Aarav twisted around from the front seat. "Bhai, last few weeks of freedom. Make wise decisions."
That shut them up for approximately five seconds.
The van rolled out of Landour, winding down the hills.
This time, no one played loud music.
The mood was softer.
Satisfied.
Ruhika sat by the window again, but this time Shivansh's arm rested casually along the back of her seat.
He leaned slightly toward Ruhika. "Your friends are aggressive."
Ruhika blinked. "Did you just.....?"
Aarav let out a laugh from the driver's seat and looked at Shivansh. "See? I told you."
Ruhika looked between the two brothers. "Told him what?"
Aarav caught her eye in the rearview mirror before answering. "That meeting you has that effect on people."
Rohan nodded enthusiastically. "A few days ago I was evaluating my friend's life choices. Now I'm defending them."
Shivansh didn't say anything dramatic. But there was something unmistakable in his expression — not smugness, not relief.Just quiet satisfaction.Like he'd expected this.Like he was glad it was happening anyway.
Aarav pointed a finger backward. "Also, stage entry. Are we doing something simple or cinematic?"
Ruhika hesitated.
Shivansh noticed the micro-pause.
"Simple," he said.
She glanced at him.
"You sure?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Even if Isha wants fireworks?"
"I don't want fireworks," she protested.
"You wanted fog machines," Shivansh reminded.
The car filled with overlapping suggestions — guest seating, return gifts, someone's insistence on a live band.
Through it all, their conversation ran quietly underneath.Not separate. Just parallel.
At one point, as the discussion grew louder, Ruhika reached forward to grab a water bottle from the side pocket.
The teasing resumed, louder now as Delhi traffic swallowed them whole. But somewhere between the playful "bhabhi" and menu arguments, something had subtly aligned.
They weren't just two people being pulled toward a wedding anymore.They were beginning to answer as a pair.
Not perfectly in sync. But close enough that everyone else had started noticing.
And it was just a matter of few days when they would be spoken of together, not just Ruhika or Shivansh but the bride and groom before being tied together as Husband and Wife
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Aesthetic