CHAPTER 37! KISS
By the time they returned to the riverside villa, the adrenaline had begun to wear off, leaving a heavy exhaustion in its wake.
The wooden cottage overlooked the roaring Ganges, wrapped in towering pine trees and evening mist.
The sunset painted the distant Himalayan foothills in bleeding shades of gold, while the air carried the crisp scent of pine needle resin and freezing river water.
From downstream, the rhythmic chime of temple bells from the evening Ganga Aarti floated across the water-a faint hum of sanctuary before the impending storm.
"Bonfire!" Ruhi announced, throwing both hands into the air as they hit the grass.
"I approve," Reyansh declared, collapsing onto a wooden bench.
"After nearly dying at the hands of a local mob, I deserve roasted bhutta."
"You almost died because of your mouth," Tara reminded him, dumping a pile of blankets onto a lawn chair.
"My mouth is a victim of circumstance."
"No," everyone replied in unison.
Ignoring him, the boys wandered into the backyard where an old stone fire pit overlooked the river.
Within minutes, piles of dry wood were stacked in the center.
Shaurya stepped back, brushing dirt from his palms. "There."
Aarush rubbed his hands together. "Moment of truth." He reached into his jeans pocket. Nothing.
He checked his jacket. Nothing. His brows furrowed.
"Who brought the lighter?"
Silence fell over the yard.
Reyansh blinked.
"I thought you did."
"I thought you did."
"I brought the snacks."
"I brought blankets."
Nobody had brought a lighter.
Myra pinched the bridge of her nose.
"We are surrounded by highly educated, deeply incompetent idiots."
"Move," Aarush muttered, crouching beside the fire pit. He picked up two smooth, gray river stones from the perimeter.
"I've watched enough survival videos for this. Stand back."
He struck them together. Clack. Nothing.
Again. Clack. Nothing.
He struck them harder, his jaw set. CLACK! Still nothing.
Five minutes later, the only thing burning in the backyard was Aarush's patience.
"I refuse to believe prehistoric humans were smarter than me," he hissed, his knuckles white.
"They were," Tara answered.
"They survived," Reyansh added.
"You haven't."
Aarush glared at them before smashing the rocks together one last time. A tiny spark appeared-and died in the damp air. "I'm filing a formal complaint against history."
Laughter erupted around the yard. Vivaan watched the spectacle in silence.
Then, he turned slightly, walking over to where Aryav stood leaning against the wooden railing of the deck.
He stopped beside him.
"You have a lighter?"
Aryav looked at his brother.
"Yes."
Another second passed.
Vivaan stared.
"You've had one this entire time?"
"Yes."
Behind them, Aarush froze. His eye twitched. "If You have lighter bhai why you didn't told us..."
Aarush pointed a trembling, accusing finger. "I have been rubbing rocks together like a caveman for ten minutes!"
Aryav pulled a sleek silver lighter from his inner pocket, the engraved Rai Singhania crest catching the dimming light.
"You never asked."
Aryav didn't even look up.
Reyansh doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughed.
"He has a point!"
"I hate that he has a point!" Aarush looked ready to launch himself across the yard.
Shaurya caught the back of his hoodie, holding him in place with a heavy warning sigh.
Aryav ignored the theatrics.
He crouched beside the fire.
A single flick.
Click.
Blue flame bloomed against the dusk. The kindling caught immediately.
The fire answered with, orange flames climbing rapidly through the stacked logs and casting a warm glow into the cool evening air.
He snapped the lighter shut, slipping it back into his pocket.
Aarush let out a defeated sigh.
"He's been insufferable since birth."
Aryav didn't glance up.
Within minutes, the bonfire crackled beneath the darkening sky, casting long, dancing shadows across the lawn.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed adrak chai drifted through the air, mixing with the scent of rain-soaked earth.
Steaming paper cups were passed around along with a plate of hot pakoras from the villa kitchen.
Within seconds, Reyansh had stolen three.
No one spoke.
For the first time that day, the silence felt earned.
Ruhi broke the peace, clapping her hands. "Game time!"
Groans echoed around the fire.
"No dares," Tara warned.
"No embarrassing questions," Myra added.
"No singing," Reyansh said.
Ruhi grinned. "I feel deeply attacked by this family."
Just as she opened her mouth to explain the rules, a cold, heavy drop of water landed squarely on her nose.
Then another.
Everyone looked upward. Dark, bruised clouds had swallowed the stars, silencing the distant temple bells.
"It won't rain," Reyansh declared, leaning back. "It's just mist."
The sky answered him instantly.
CRASH!
Thunder rolled across the mountains, and a second later, the first heavy drops became a proper pahadi downpour, thick enough to blur the opposite bank of the Ganges within seconds.
Reyansh cleared his throat, pushing himself up.
"Indradev mujhse naraj hai."
Chaos returned in a heartbeat.
"Andar Chalo sab!"
"My blanket!"
"Arre, meri slippers!" Ruhi cried as one sandal disappeared into the wet grass.
Everyone scattered toward the villa, laughing and shouting over one another as they scrambled for the covered porch.
Except one person.
Aadhira remained standing right beside the dying bonfire.
The rain soaked through her clothes within seconds, plastering her hair to her shoulders, but she didn't run.
Instead, she tipped her face directly toward the sky, closed her eyes, and laughed until she had to bend forward to breathe, rain running down her face like she had forgotten the world existed.
Her laughter echoed across the roaring riverside.
Aryav watched from the deck.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd watched someone laugh without looking for a reason.
Kashvi reached the porch before realizing her best friend hadn't followed.
She turned around, shielding her eyes. "Aadhira! Get inside!"
Instead of answering, Aadhira sprinted toward the porch, caught Kashvi's wrist, and pulled.
"No," Kashvi knew that look.
"Absolutely not, Aadhira-"
"Come on!"
"I have Vaani-"
"I've got her!" Myra stepped in, scooping the little girl into her arms from the safety of the dry porch.
Before Kashvi could protest further, Aadhira yanked her forward.
Kashvi stumbled into the downpour with an undignified squeak, but within seconds, both women were laughing, spinning in the wet grass.
"Fine!" Ruhi threw her hands up from the porch. "If they're getting wet, so are we!"
She sprinted out into the rain, Myra right behind her. Then Tara. Then Reyansh, Arjun, Shaurya, and Aarush.
Soon, the lawn had transformed into pure madness. Music blasted faintly from the rescued speaker on the porch, and laughter mixed seamlessly with the sound of falling water.
Ayaan ran straight toward Aadhira with both arms stretched upward.
"Mama!"
Aryav's eyes lifted instantly. Not because of the word itself, but because the boy had chosen it without thinking.
Reyansh muttered to Shaurya from the edge of the lawn, "He doesn't even hesitate anymore."
Shaurya watched as Aadhira bent down, lifting the seven-year-old into her arms.
"Aja meri jaan."
"Neither does she."
The boy burst into delighted giggles as she twirled him around, his small hands gripping her shoulders.
Water clung to Aadhira's eyelashes and hair. She spun once more, her face glowing with a breathless smile.
And then, her movement slowed. As she turned back toward the villa, her eyes drifted up to the veranda and locked directly onto him.
Rainwater slid from her lashes.
She smiled.
Aryav held her gaze. He never smiled. But his fingers tightened once around the wooden railing, and he didn't look away, either.
Silent Inspections
Under the covered veranda, Aryav stood still.
The rain never touched him, but his eyes never left her. Not for a single second.
She danced without rhythm, without embarrassment, unbothered by who was watching.
Once, she had been an inconvenience. Now his eyes searched for her before they searched the exits.
He noticed escape routes.
Blind corners.
Weapons.
Threats.
Lately... He noticed her first.
He disliked what that implied.
Unconsciously, Aryav took a single step forward toward the edge of the veranda, the rain spraying close to his boots.
He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as he anchored his weight back into the shadows.
Vivaan didn't look at him, his shoulder propped against a heavy wooden pillar.
"They are looking happy."
"They are."
Vivaan offered no further elaboration as his eyes drifted across the chaotic lawn until they found Kashvi.
She had stepped slightly away from the dancing, her breath shallow as she laughed at something Ruhi had done.
Her clothes were soaked, her hair clinging to her neck, yet there was a quiet, effortless grace to her even in the middle of a storm.
Vivaan watched her for a brief, heavy moment.
Kashvi did not belong in his calculations.
With absolute control, he looked away, his expression turning back to stone.
The rain continued to fall in sheets, the dying bonfire hissing loudly beneath the water.
Thunder rolled heavily across the mountains.
Neither man moved, and neither looked at the other.
Vivaan stared into the darkness of the yard, his voice a low murmur over the roar of the rain.
"Dangerous."
"Very," Aryav replied.
Vivaan watched the rain. "The storm?"
Aryav's eyes never left Aadhira.
"No."
A beat.
"The woman dancing in it."
Empires obeyed him.
She never did.
That was becoming a problem.