2
It was 18th October, this wasn't a date either of them had spoken about.
No reminders.
No planning.
No expectations.
And yet—somewhere between routine mornings and quiet evenings, the day arrived.
Ruhika didn't realize it at first.
Her morning had begun like any other—emails opened before she was fully awake, a quick breakfast half-finished between messages, a hurried glance at the clock as she slipped into her shoes and picked up her bag.
Routine had taken over the way it always did.
Familiar.
Predictable.
Comforting in its own way.
By the time she reached her office and settled into her chair, the day had already begun moving at its usual pace—calls, updates, notes, conversations overlapping one another.
There was no space to pause.
No reason to.
Until there was.
?
It happened sometime mid-afternoon.Not during anything important.Not during a meeting or a deadline.Just in a quiet in-between moment.
She had leaned back in her chair, scrolling absently through her calendar, trying to map out the rest of her week.
Her fingers slowed.
Then stopped.
Her eyes lingered on the date.For a second, she didn't move.Didn't think.
Just... looked.
Then she leaned back a little more slowly, her head resting lightly against the chair.
The realization didn't come with surprise exactly. But it didn't feel expected either.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Soft.
Almost disbelieving.It didn't feel like three months.
Not in the way time usually felt.Not in weeks or days or routines that could be counted.
It felt... different.
Less defined.
Less measurable.
Not long.
Not short.
Just— full.
Her gaze drifted away from the screen, unfocused now.
And without trying to, she found herself thinking back.
Not to any big moment. There wasn't one.
No single memory that stood out above the rest.
Instead—there were fragments. Small things. The way mornings had begun to shift.From waking up alone to waking up aware of someone beside her. The quiet comfort of that presence.
Even in sleep.
The way evenings no longer felt like an end to the day, but something she found herself looking forward to.
Because she knew he would be there.Somewhere in the house.
The way conversations had changed.From careful and measured to easy.
Unforced. Teasing, Sometimes even unnecessary.
The way silence had begun to feel different.Not something to fill.But something to share.The way he noticed things.Without making it obvious.Without making it a point.
Just... naturally.
The way he would ask if she had eaten. The way he would wait without saying he was waiting.The way he would adjust things around her without drawing attention to it.
And more importantly, the way she had begun to respond. Without thinking about it.Without planning it. Just as naturally as him
Her fingers tapped lightly against the arm of the chair as she sat there.
Still.
Thinking.
But not in a way that felt heavy.Or overwhelming. Just... reflective.
If someone had asked her—what changed in three months?
She wouldn't have had a clear answer.Because nothing had changed all at once.There had been no shift she could point to.No moment where things became something else.
It had all happened gradually. Quietly.
Like rain that begins so softly you don't notice when it starts—only when everything is already consumed in its scent.
She found herself smiling again.This time a little more certain.A little more aware.Not of what it meant. But of what it felt like.
Three months.
And somewhere between shared mornings, quiet evenings, rain-soaked moments, and unspoken understanding—they had built something.
Not dramatic.
Not defined.
But steady.
Real.
Her phone buzzed lightly against the desk, pulling her back.
A message.
Shivansh.
She looked at the screen for a second. Then typed back.
She paused. Then added— You?
A few seconds later, his reply came
She smiled. Shook her head faintly. And reached for her lunch.
It was in moments like this—small, ordinary, almost forgettable—that the realization settled a little deeper.
Not loudly.
Not urgently.
But clearly enough.That whatever this was between them—it wasn't something that had arrived suddenly.
It had grown.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Until one day, she looked up and realized it had been there all along.
_______
Across the city, Shivansh noticed it differently.
Not through a calendar. But through memory.
He was midway through a meeting—voices around him, numbers on a screen, someone explaining projections he was supposed to be listening to.
And yet, for a brief second— his mind slipped.
Three months ago.
Same time of day.A different room.A different kind of silence. A woman sitting across from him—composed, unfamiliar, someone he was supposed to build a life with.
Someone he hadn't known then, Not like he does now. The thought didn't interrupt him. He didn't lose track of the meeting.
But it stayed.
Quietly.
And when the meeting ended, instead of heading straight home like he usually did—he paused.
Then made a detour.
____________
Ruhika reached home a little later than usual that evening. The lift ride up felt longer for no particular reason.
Maybe because the day had been heavier. Or maybe because something about the date had stayed at the back of her mind all afternoon.
Three months.
It had followed her through meetings.Through conversations.Through work.
Unacknowledged. But present.
She stepped inside the room.
Quiet. Unusually quiet.
No TV.
No voices. No clatter from the kitchen. She placed her bag down slowly.
"Hello?"
No response. Her brows drew together faintly.
Then—she noticed the balcony door.Slightly open. A soft golden light spilling in. She walked toward it slowly.
And paused at the threshold.The balcony looked... different.
Not decorated. Not extravagant.
Just—WarmA small table near the railing.Two chairs.
A simple cloth. Candles flickering gently in the evening breeze.
And dinner.
Carefully arranged. Not perfect. But personal.
Shivansh stood near the railing, adjusting one of the candles that refused to stay lit.His sleeves were rolled.
Hair slightly disheveled. Like he'd been at this for a while. The faint glow of the candles caught along his jawline, softening the sharpness of his usual composed expression.
He looked up when he sensed her.And for a moment— neither of them spoke.
Ruhika stepped a little further into the balcony.
Slowly. As if afraid that moving too quickly might disturb the moment.Her eyes moved across the space.
Taking it in, Not just the setup—
but the effort behind it.The slightly uneven placement of the candles.The way the cloth wasn't perfectly aligned.The careful attempt to make something feel... special.
Her gaze lingered on the table for a second longer.
Then shifted back to him. "You did this?"
Her voice was softer than usual.Not surprised.Just... touched.
Shivansh glanced briefly at the table.Then back at her.
"It's not much."
The words were simple. But there was a quiet hesitation beneath them. As if he wasn't entirely sure how it would be received.
Ruhika took another step forward.Closer now.
"It's... a lot." This time her voice carried something else.Something warmer. More certain. Her fingers reached out lightly, brushing the edge of the tablecloth.
Smoothing a crease that didn't really need smoothing.
Just to feel something.To ground herself in the moment. "You did all this... yourself?"
He gave a small nod. "Mostly." "Aarav tried to help."
A faint smile touched her lips. "And?"
"I asked him to leave."
She let out a quiet laugh.The sound slipped easily into the evening air. "I can imagine."
For a moment she simply stood there.Looking at the space again.
Then at him.
There was no grand decoration.No elaborate planning.
And yet—it felt more thoughtful than anything extravagant ever could have.Because it wasn't about how it looked. It was about why it existed.
Her gaze softened slightly. "You remembered."
Shivansh didn't answer immediately.He leaned one shoulder lightly against the railing, watching her instead. "Yes."
Just that.No elaboration. But it was enough.
Ruhika's fingers moved absentmindedly to one of the candles, adjusting it slightly so the flame steadied.
The soft light reflected in her eyes as she looked down at it.
Then back up at him. "You didn't say anything in the morning."
She tilted her head slightly. "I wasn't sure if you would..."
"Remember?" He filled in and looked at her for a second longer than usual. "I did."
The quiet certainty in his voice made something shift in her expression. She lowered her gaze for a moment, a small, almost private smile forming before she could stop it.
He stilled for a moment Looking at her again. The way the soft candlelight fell across her face.The way her hair moved slightly in the breeze. The way she looked... different tonight.
Not because of what she wore. But because of what the moment had become. There was a quiet stillness between them now.
Not empty. Just... full.
Ruhika looked up. "Are you going to stand there the whole evening?"
A faint hint of her usual tone returned.
He exhaled softly, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Only if you keep looking at everything except the food."
She glanced down at the table.Then back at him.
"I'm appreciating the effort." She laughed lightly
She smiled.And something about that smile—easy, unguarded, made the entire effort feel worth it.
The candles flickered between them.The city stretched quietly beyond the railing.And for the first time since she stepped into the balcony—the moment settled.
Not as a surprise.Not as an event.But as something quietly shared.Something that belonged to both of them now.And neither of them rushed to move past it.
And that's when he noticed what she was holding.
A small box. Carefully balanced in her hand.He nodded toward it, a faint curiosity in his expression.
"And, what about this?
Ruhika paused for a fraction of a second—as if deciding whether to make it casual or let it mean what it did.
Then she lifted it slightly."Cake."
The word was simple. But it carried intention.A quiet kind of thoughtfulness that mirrored everything around them.
A faint smile curved at the corner of Shivansh's mouth.
Not amused.Not surprised. Just... warm.
For a moment—they just stood there.Looking at each other. And in that quiet second, something clicked.
The same thought. The same intention.
Without discussion.Without planning. And that realization—that both of them had remembered...both of them had prepared something...shifted the air between them. It wasn't just coincidence.
Shivansh stepped forward then, pulling the chair out for her. "Sit."
His voice had changed.It wasn't just softer—it carried a quiet intent now, something that made the simple gesture feel more deliberate, more personal.
Ruhika held his gaze for a brief second before sitting down slowly. The cake box remained in her hands for a moment longer than necessary, as if she wasn't quite ready to place it between them yet.
Then she did. Carefully. Like she was placing something more than just a dessert on that table.
Dinner unfolded without urgency.There was no rush to begin, no hurry to finish. They moved through it the way they had begun to move through most things now—naturally, without forcing pace or conversation.
The silence between them wasn't empty. It was... inhabited.
Warm.
Steady.
"Some of it, ordered in the rest," he said simply.
She looked up at him then.Not surprised.Not exactly.
But... aware. Aware of the effort. The thought.
The intention behind something he was pretending was casual.
"It's good, the pasta, I remember the taste" she said softly. Also, the pizza is delicious
He nodded once, but his eyes lingered on her a fraction longer than necessary.
Small conversations slipped in between pauses. Nothing heavy. Nothing that demanded attention. Just pieces of the evening settling gently around them.
And yet— something had shifted. They both felt it.
Even if neither of them said it.
At one point, Shivansh reached across the table for a dish at the same time Ruhika did.
Their fingers brushed.
Light.
Barely there.
But this time— neither of them pulled away.Her hand stilled beneath his for just a second.His fingers adjusted slightly.
Not withdrawing.
Not pressing.
Just... resting there.Acknowledging the contact instead of dismissing it.
Then, almost instinctively, he picked up the piece she had been reaching for and placed it on her plate.
A quiet gesture.
Unspoken.
Ruhika looked at him.There was a question in her eyes.
Not confusion.
Not hesitation.
Something softer.Something that had begun to form over the past weeks and was now becoming harder to ignore.
He didn't explain.
Didn't need to.
She lowered her gaze again.But her fingers lingered near where his had been. And something of that moment stayed between them.
When it was time for the cake, she reached for the box again, opening it slowly. The faint scent of sugar and vanilla drifted into the air.
It wasn't elaborate. No decorations. No bright colors.
Just clean white frosting with little red hearts
Simple.
Understated. Exactly like everything else about the evening. Exactly like them.
Shivansh reached for the knife.
She steadied the plate.
And as they leaned in together—their hands met again.
This time it wasn't accidental. Her fingers rested lightly over his as they cut through the cake together.
The contact lingered. Longer than before.
Warmer.
More certain.
Neither of them commented on it. Neither of them moved away too quickly.
"Happy three months," she said softly.
Her voice didn't carry excitement.It carried something quieter.Something deeper.
He looked at her. Really looked. And for a moment, everything else faded—the city, the candles, the night.
"Happy three months," he replied.
The words settled between them.Not as a milestone.
But as a realization.
Three months ago, this would have been different.
Formal.
Careful.
Measured.
Now—it wasn't.There was a pause after that. A stillness that didn't feel like waiting. Just... something gathering.
And then before either of them could step back into the safety of what they knew—
Shivansh moved. He didn't hesitate. Didn't second-guess. He stepped closer. The space between them closing in one quiet motion.
His hand reached for her.Fingers wrapping gently around her wrist. And then—his arms came around her.
The hug wasn't sudden.It wasn't unsure. Like he had known for a while that he would do this—and had simply been waiting for the moment to feel right.
Ruhika stilled at first.Not out of discomfort.But because she felt it immediately—the difference.
This wasn't one of their brief, passing moments.
Not a brush of hands.Not a quiet closeness that faded quickly.
This was fuller.Warmer. Real.
And then—something inside her softened.Her arms came up. Slowly at first. Then more surely. Wrapping around him.
Not tentative.Not uncertain. Just... there. Her cheek rested lightly against his shoulder.
And for the first time—it didn't feel like she was stepping into unfamiliar territory.It felt like she had arrived somewhere she hadn't realized she was moving toward all along.
Shivansh's hand settled at her back.
Firm.
Steady.
He held her just a little closer. Not enough to overwhelm. But enough to make something clear—he wasn't letting go yet.
And she didn't want him to.
The moment stretched. Not in seconds.But in feeling.
He became aware of everything. The quiet rise and fall of her breath. The way she leaned into him—not fully, but enough to trust the space.
The softness of her presence against him.And somewhere in that stillness—something shifted inside him.
Not dramatically.Not like a realization that demands attention.
But undeniably. Because this wasn't just comfort anymore. It wasn't habit. It wasn't routine.It was something he wanted.
Her.
Like this. Close. With him.
And for the first time—he didn't push that thought away. He let it stay.
When they finally pulled away—it wasn't abrupt. It wasn't awkward. It was slow.Like both of them were aware—that something had just changed.And neither of them wanted to break it too quickly.
Ruhika's hands slipped back first.But her fingers lingered lightly against his arm for a second longer.
His hand remained at her back a moment after that.
Before easing away. They stepped apart.But not fully.The space between them was different now.
Not distant.Not uncertain. Just... closer than it had ever been before. Neither of them felt the need to return to something else.
They were already exactly where they needed to be.
After dinner, the plates were pushed aside. The candles had burned lower now, their flames softer, steadier, casting a warm, quiet glow across the balcony. The city stretched endlessly beyond the railing—lights scattered like constellations, distant and blurred.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Ruhika moved
Not abruptly. Just... drawn toward the edge of the balcony. Her fingers came to rest lightly against the railing, her gaze drifting outward, taking in the quiet of the night. There was something about the stillness—the way the evening had settled—that made her pause there.
Behind her, Shivansh watched for a second.
Then followed. He didn't stand at a distance this time.
Didn't leave that careful space between them that had once been instinctive.
He stood beside her.
Close. Close enough that their shoulders almost brushed.
The breeze picked up slightly.
Cooler now.It carried the faint scent of the night, of distant rain that had passed hours ago.
Her dupatta lifted gently with it.Shifted.
And brushed against his arm.
Earlier, he would have adjusted it quickly.Stepped away, Restored distance.
This time—he didn't.
His fingers caught the edge of the fabric.Held it for a second. Not to fix it.
Just... to feel it. Then, slowly, almost absentmindedly, his fingers trailed along the length of it as it settled back against her shoulder.
Ruhika noticed. Of course she did.
The movement was too deliberate to miss.But she didn't react.
Didn't step away.Didn't break the moment.She simply stayed where she was. And something in that quiet stillness—her lack of resistance, his lack of hesitation—shifted the air between them again.
From somewhere nearby, faint music drifted through the night.
Soft. Barely there. The kind that blended into the atmosphere rather than standing apart from it.
Shivansh heard it. Tilted his head slightly.Then glanced toward the table behind them.Without saying anything, he walked back, picked up his phone, and unlocked it.
A few quiet taps. The same melody—clearer now, but still gentle—began to play from the small speaker.
He set the phone down beside the candles.The music wrapped around the space.
Private.
Contained.
Theirs.
When he turned back toward her, Ruhika was already watching him. He stepped closer.Turned fully toward her.
And then—without giving himself time to rethink it—
he held out his hand. "Dance?"
Ruhika blinked.A small, surprised smile appearing despite herself. "Here, in the balcony?" she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.
"Really?"
He didn't withdraw his hand.Didn't rush her.Just held it there.
Waiting.
"Really." He said
Her eyes dropped to his hand.Then lifted again to meet his.For a second, she hesitated.Not because she didn't want to.But because she understood what it meant.
This wasn't just a gesture. It was... a step.
His fingers closed around hers.
Warm.
Steady.
Sure.
He didn't pull her in immediately.Instead, he guided her gently.
One step.Then another. The distance between them didn't disappear all at once. It softened.
Gradually.
Naturally.
His other hand lifted.Paused briefly near her waist. As if still giving her the chance to step back.Then settled.
Light at first. Then more certain.
Her hand moved from his to rest against his shoulder. Fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.
Not tight. Just... present.
They began to move. Slowly. A gentle sway.
Nothing practiced. Nothing perfect. But it didn't need to be.
Because the dance wasn't in the steps.
It was in the way they adjusted to each other.
In the way their movements began to match without effort.In the way the space between them kept narrowing.
Ruhika became aware of it first.
The warmth.
The closeness.
The way his hand at her waist had settled more firmly now—not holding her in place, but not letting her drift away either.
Her breath softened. She looked up.And found him already looking at her. This time—neither of them looked away.
The music faded into the background.The city blurred. The world outside the balcony lost its edges.
He moved slightly closer. Not consciously.Just... following the moment.And she responded the same way.
Without thinking. Without questioning.
Their steps slowed. Until they were barely moving at all. Her fingers tightened slightly against his shoulder.
Not out of hesitation.Just... holding.
His hand shifted at her waist. Drawing her a fraction closer.Enough that the distance between them disappeared completely.
Their foreheads came close. Not touching yet. But near enough that she could feel his breath.
Warm.
Steady.
She didn't step back.
He didn't rush forward.
They stayed there—in that quiet, suspended space.
Then—slowly—almost unconsciously— she leaned in.Her forehead rested against his. The contact was soft.Barely there.But it grounded everything.
Both of them stilled.
The movement of the dance faded into stillness. But the closeness remained.
Her eyes lowered slightly.
Not closing.
Just softening.
His gaze lingered on her face. Closer now than ever before.Taking in details he hadn't allowed himself to notice this clearly—the faint rise and fall of her breath
the softness in her expression,the way she didn't pull away
And something in him shifted.
Not suddenly.
Not overwhelmingly.
But completely.
This wasn't habit.This wasn't adjustment. And the realization didn't need words.
It simply stayed.
Clear.
Steady.
Certain.
Ruhika felt it too. Not as a thought. Not as a conclusion
But as something deeper. A quiet awareness of the way he held her now.
Of how natural it felt to stand this close. To not question it. To not pull away.
The music continued softly behind them.The candles flickered low.And for a long moment—they stayed like that.
Foreheads resting lightly together.Breath steady. Hands still holding.
Until finally—she exhaled softly.
A quiet breath against the stillness."We should go inside."
He nodded, But didn't move immediately.
Neither did she.
Because for that one lingering moment—neither of them wanted to be the one to step away.
And when they finally did—slowly, gently—the distance returned.But it didn't feel like distance anymore.
Because something had already crossed it. And stayed.
______________
It was a few days later, when Sunita mentioned that day after tomorrow was 'KarwaChauth'
The words didn't arrive with emphasis.They weren't announced.They weren't highlighted. They were simply placed there—like something that had always existed in the house, something that didn't need introduction, only acknowledgment.
Ruhika looked up.
Her fingers, which had been moving steadily across the keyboard, paused mid-sentence. The cursor blinked on the screen in front of her, waiting—but her attention had already shifted elsewhere.
She had seen it growing up—in glimpses that never stayed long enough to be understood fully.
Her mother waking before sunrise, the faint clinking of utensils in the kitchen before the house stirred.
The quietness of the day that followed, softer than usual. The evening anticipation, almost unspoken but present in the way everyone moved a little differently. The terrace lit gently. The waiting for the moon.
She had seen all of it. But always from the outside. Now it was something she would step into.
Not watch.
Not observe.
But live.
Sunita added, " We have to wake up early for Sargi, rest don't worry about anything,I'll help you out. She smiled
Ruhika nodded slowly. "Okay."
Her voice was soft.But there was something thoughtful in it now. The words on the screen blurred slightly as her mind drifted elsewhere.
What time would she have to wake up?
Would she be able to fast the whole day?
Would she remember everything?
Would she do something wrong?
Would she... feel something?
From across the room, Shivansh looked up. Long enough to understand that something had settled inside her. Karwa Chauth.
He had seen it every year. His mother fasting.
The routine.The familiarity of it.The way the day unfolded in a pattern he had never questioned.
It had always been there. In the background.Like many things are—until they aren't.Until they become personal.
Now it was, Now it was connected to her.
_______
The next day, preparation didn't begin with rituals.
It began with color. With quiet excitement that moved through the house in small, almost unspoken ways.
By late afternoon, the living room had shifted slightly.
Not decorated. Not transformed Just... warmer.
A cone of mehendi lay open on the table.The faint earthy scent filled the air.
Ruhika sat cross-legged on the rug, her hand stretched forward, trying to stay still as the delicate patterns took shape across her palm.
She wasn't used to sitting like this for long.Every few minutes, her fingers twitched slightly. By the time the mehendi was complete, her hands felt heavier—not physically, but with the care she had begun placing into them.
She held them up carefully, palms open, fingers slightly spread, as the designs darkened gradually.
The room had quieted a little by then. Afternoon light filtering in softly, conversations lowering into background murmurs.
?
Sunita came closer after a while.
"Done?" she asked gently.
Ruhika nodded, careful not to move too much.
Sunita reached out, not to take her hands—but to steady her elbow lightly. "Come."
Ruhika sat by the window in their room, her hands still slightly lifted, careful not to smudge the deepening color. The evening light filtered in softly, catching the patterns on her palms—making them look darker than they had an hour ago.
She turned her hands slowly, studying them. Somewhere in the intricate curves— his name.
Still hidden.
Still waiting.
___________
The next day, house woke before the sky did. There was a stillness to that hour that didn't belong to the rest of the day—soft lights in corners, shadows still stretched long across the floor, the quiet clinking of utensils from the kitchen carrying farther than usual.
It felt... intimate.
As if the house itself was only half-awake
Ruhika stepped into the kitchen wrapped in a shawl, her hair loosely tied, strands falling around her face, in a heavy red coloured suit, her chooda and was ready very minimally as it was still too early and her eyes still heavy with sleep.
For a moment she just stood there, letting herself settle into the quiet. The faint warmth from the stove.The familiar scent of ghee and something sweet. The rhythm of someone already awake and moving.
Sunita turned the moment she heard her, smiled and wished her, blessing her for a long lived prosperous marriage ahead
Ruhika smiled faintly. Her thali had already been arranged with care.
Dry fruits.
Parathas.
Sweets.
Everything placed neatly, thoughtfully.
"You need to eat properly," Sunita said, placing the glass of water beside it. "It's a long day."
Ruhika nodded. She sat down slowly, pulling the shawl closer around herself as she picked up the first bite.
It felt strange.Eating this early.
Eating with the quiet knowledge that this would last her through the entire day.
She ate slowly at first.Then a little more easily. And somewhere between those small gestures and the quiet motherly presence beside her the unfamiliar began to feel less so.
The doorway shifted slightly, Shivansh stood there.
Half awake. Hair slightly disheveled, the faint crease of sleep still visible in his expression.
He didn't speak immediately.He just... looked.
At her sitting there, quietly following something that belonged to this house.
At his mother beside her.
Something in his chest settled.
"You're up?" Ruhika asked softly, glancing toward him.
He nodded.
Sunita looked between them briefly.
"Why are you awake at 4 AM, sleep a little more," she said.