•| THIRTY ONE |•
Evening had settled softly over the house, painting the sky outside your window in hues of peach and fading gold.
A faint breeze slipped in through the curtains, carrying with it the distant sounds of traffic and temple bells.
You stood in front of the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time, nervously smoothing your palms over your outfit.
You had chosen something simple… something that felt like you.
A white chikankari long kurti with full sleeves, delicate threadwork running like poetry along the fabric.
The same chikankari palazzo hugged your legs loosely, giving you comfort more than glamour.
You had left your hair open—soft waves cascading down your back—because you didn’t know how to style it fancy anyway.
A light gloss coated your lips, a tiny bindi sat between your brows, and simple flats completed your look.
You looked… decent.
Cute, even.
Your feet tapped restlessly against the floor as you waited, fingers twisting together in nervous anticipation.
From inside the bathroom, you could hear the faint sound of drawers opening, perfume spraying, cufflinks clicking into place.
And for some reason…Your heart was beating faster.
After a few minutes, the bathroom door finally opened.
And you forgot how to breathe.
Krish stepped out wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that fit him like it had been stitched onto his body.
The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted dangerously well with his skin.
His expensive Chelsea boots clicked against the floor with authority.
His hair was styled up, exposing his sharp forehead, a few strands rebelliously falling forward.
The expensive watch wrapped around his wrist made his veiny hands look even more intimate… more masculine.
He adjusted his cufflinks while walking toward the mirror, completely unaware that you were staring at him like you had just seen a magazine model come to life.
In short—
You suddenly felt like a background extra standing next to the main lead.
“…I look like a joker in front of him,” you mumbled internally.
As if sensing your gaze, his dark chocolate eyes lifted—
And met yours through the mirror.
He paused.
His eyes slowly traveled from your face… to your hair… to your lips… then downward to your outfit… and back up again.
A small frown formed between his brows.
Your confidence instantly cracked.
“Umm… you’re wearing this?” he asked.
Your eyes widened.
“What’s wrong with it?” you questioned back, your voice defensive but soft.
He turned around fully now, hands on his hips as he examined you again like he was trying to solve a complicated equation.
“It’s not matching my style,” he said bluntly, pointing vaguely at your clothes.
Your jaw dropped.
“Excuse me?”
“You should’ve worn something more… you know… formal. Elegant. We’re going somewhere classy.”
You crossed your arms.
“Well, you should’ve told me where we’re going so I could dress according to that.”
He opened his mouth—
Closed it.
Opened it again—
Then sighed, massaging his temple like you had just given him a corporate headache.
“Why do I feel like I’m negotiating a business deal?” he muttered under his breath.
“I heard that,” you shot back.
His eyes flickered toward you again.
And this time…
He noticed the details he had missed.
Your doe eyes lined softly with kajal.
The gloss on your plump lips catching the light.
The way your hair framed your face.
The innocence mixed with quiet femininity.
You looked… sexy.
But in a soft way.
Dangerously soft.
His gaze lingered a second longer than it should have.
He cleared his throat and looked away quickly, pretending to check the time.
It was already 7:48 PM.
He exhaled.
“It’s okay. Let’s go. We don’t have time.”
Just like that… he walked past you and out of the room.
You stood there—offended, embarrassed, annoyed.
“Hmph. I’m not even close to his style,” you muttered, stomping your foot like a child.
You grabbed your dupatta angrily and rushed behind him.
Downstairs, he was already near the entrance, car keys twirling around his finger.
You stopped a few steps behind him.
“Next time just send me a dress code message,” you grumbled.
He looked over his shoulder.
“There will be a next time?” he asked casually.
You froze.
He smirked slightly at your speechless face before opening the door.
Outside, the cool evening air wrapped around you both.
Sitting on the passenger seat, you held the phone close to your ear, your voice automatically turning soft… warm… motherly.
“Baby, be a good boy and don’t trouble uncle and aunty, okay?”
A tiny giggle echoed from the other side, making your lips curve instantly.
“Mummy loves you… bye.”
You cut the call slowly, staring at the screen for a second longer before placing the phone on your lap.
Your eyes unconsciously drifted toward Krish.
He was driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting near the gear. His jawline looked sharper under the passing streetlights, shadows and light playing across his face like a slow-motion movie shot.
His focus was on the road…
Brows slightly furrowed…
Lips pressed in concentration…
“Damn… so sharp,” you mumbled under your breath like a soft whimper.
He glanced sideways instantly.
“Did you say something?”
Your eyes widened.
“N-No!” you jerked your face forward so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.
He scoffed lightly, shaking his head before speeding up the car a little more.
“You’re acting suspicious.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not!”
He smirked faintly but didn’t argue further, the silence between you now carrying a strange… comfortable tension.
The city lights blurred past the windows.
Your fingers fidgeted with your dupatta.
His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel.
Both of you wanted to say something…
But neither knew how to start.
Not long after, the car slowed down.
Your brows furrowed as you looked outside—
And your breath hitched.
A luxurious five-star restaurant stood tall in front of you, its glass walls glowing under golden chandeliers. Valet staff in uniforms stood near the entrance. Expensive cars lined the driveway.
Your stomach flipped.
“You brought me… here?” you whispered.
He parked smoothly and stepped out without answering.
Before you could open your door—
He was already there.
Like a perfect gentleman.
Krish opened the passenger door and extended his hand slightly, gesturing for you to step out.
Your heart skipped.
You placed your hand lightly in his and stepped down.
“Thanks,” you said softly.
He nodded once but didn’t let go immediately.
Coming out of the car, you froze mid-step.
Your mouth literally fell open.
The restaurant in front of you looked less like a place to eat and more like a place where kings and queens would come to sign peace treaties.
Huge glass doors, golden lights dripping from chandeliers, valet staff standing like soldiers, and cars so expensive you felt your slippers should apologize for being there.
Krish came around the car and stood beside you, shoving his hands casually into his pockets while watching your reaction.
A slow smile crept onto his lips.
You didn’t even blink.
You were still staring.
Finally you turned your head—very slowly—towards him with comically wide eyes.
“Is there a party?”
He blinked.
“No.”
“Wedding?”
“No.”
“Business meeting?”
He shook his head again, trying not to laugh.
“Then… did someone rich die and they’re serving free food?”
This time he actually coughed, covering his mouth to hide his grin.
“What nonsense do you speak?”
“Then why are we here? Did you come to donate money? Adopt a chef? Invest in a spoon company?” you kept guessing dramatically, making him pinch the bridge of his nose.
“It’s a date,” he finally muttered, looking down at his feet like a shy teenager instead of a CEO.
You made a perfect ‘O’ face.
Then your brain processed the word.
You leaned closer, whispering loudly—
“With whom?”
He looked up slowly…
Glared.
“Are you that dumb? You’re my wife. Of course it’s a date with you.” you gasped like he had just proposed marriage again.
“Uhh!!… yeah Uncle—oh sorry Krish ji wait for me!” he rolled his eyes so hard he could see his ancestors and started walking inside, leaving you behind.
You hurried after him, nearly tripping on your own palazzo in panic.
“Wait! I walk slow in emotional situations!” he didn’t stop…
So you did the only thing your heart told you to do.
You grabbed his hand.
He halted instantly.
Both of you looked down at your intertwined hands.
His fingers stiffened at first…
Then slowly relaxed around yours.
He lifted his gaze toward you.
You smiled—soft… shy… genuine.
“You’re not that rude,” you mumbled.
His heart did a weird somersault.
He scoffed to hide it.
“Yeah I know. Let’s go.” But his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles before he pulled you inside—unintentionally tender.
---
He pulled out a chair for you like a gentleman.
You blinked at him in surprise before sitting.
He sat across from you, loosening his watch slightly as the candlelight flickered between you both.
The atmosphere was painfully romantic.
Soft violin music…
Couples whispering…
Dim golden lights…
And him staring at you like you were the only person in the room.
You fidgeted under his gaze.
Your fingers played with the edge of the napkin.
“Order something,” he said, handing you the menu.
You took it nervously.
The moment you opened it—
Your soul left your body.
Your eyes widened more and more as you read the prices.
Inside your head you were screaming.
“Omg it’s so expensive… street food is better than this… I can feed an entire colony in this price… is gold mixed in this gravy?”
You flipped pages faster hoping maybe the last page had “budget section.”
It didn’t.
You peeked at him.
He was casually sipping wine like money grew on his balcony.
You leaned forward and whispered—
“Krish ji… it’s very expensive here.” he sighed but smiled gently.
“Don’t worry about the price. Just order what you like.” you whispered back dramatically—
“What if I like oxygen? That’s free right?” he chuckled under his breath.
“Samira…”
“Hmm?”
“If you don’t order, I’ll order 10 dishes randomly.” you gasped.
“Fine! Fine! I’ll order.” you quickly chose the safest names you could pronounce—because the French ones sounded like spells from Harry Potter.
When the waiter left, you exhaled loudly.
“Why are you stressed like you’re paying?” he teased.
“I am paying… with guilt.” he shook his head, amused.
---
After some time, the food arrived.
Your eyes sparkled.
The dishes looked like art pieces.
Steam rising…Butter glistening…Sauces swirled perfectly…You forgot all manners.
You didn’t even wait for him.
You grabbed the fork and took the first bite,your eyes closed instantly.
“Hmmm…” a satisfied hum escaped your lips.
Krish froze mid-bite.
He wasn’t looking at the food anymore.
He was looking at you.
The way your nose scrunched…The way you chewed happily…The way you forgot the world while eating…You looked… home.
You opened your eyes and saw him staring.“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you eating so slow?”
“Because I’m watching you eat fast.” you giggled.
“It’s tasty!”
“I can see that.” you pushed a dish toward him.
“Try this.”
“I ordered it.”
“But I’m feeding you emotionally.” he raised a brow.
“Oh really?” you nodded seriously.
He leaned forward slightly.
“Then feed me physically too.” you choked on air.
He smirked seeing you blush violently.
“Relax, Mrs. Mehra. I meant with a fork.”
“You should talk with a warning label,” you mumbled.
But still…You picked up a bite and fed him shyly.
He didn’t break eye contact while eating.
And your heart?
Completely malfunctioned.
The dinner that started with nervousness…
Was slowly turning into something warm…
Soft…
And dangerously close to love.