Chapter 26
Divya woke to warmth. Not the diffuse heat of sunlight through curtains, but the specific, solid warmth of another person.
Her eyes opened slowly, consciousness surfacing in fragments.
She was draped across Vikram. Completely.
Shamelessly. Her cheek rested against his chest, her arm sprawled over his torso, her knee bent across his legs.
She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Could feel the rise and fall of his breathing.
Could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
The realization hit like cold water.
She went rigid. Every muscle tensing against the awareness of how thoroughly she'd plastered herself against him during sleep.
She tried to extract herself, slowly, carefully, hoping he was still asleep. Hoping she could slip away before he woke and realized how she'd been clinging to him.
His arm moved. Tightened. His hand splayed across her back, fingers pressing gently but firmly, keeping her exactly where she was.
Her gaze shot to his face.
He was awake. Had been awake. Was looking at her with sleep-soft eyes and something darker, more intent underneath.
"Good morning," he murmured, voice rough with sleep, deeper than usual.
The sound sent a shiver down her spine.
"I should..." She pushed against his chest, trying to create space.
He rolled. Smooth. Deliberate. Until he loomed over her, one arm braced beside her head, his body a warm weight that pinned her to the mattress without crushing her. His knee slid between hers, settling there with casual possession.
Her breath caught.
"I..." The word strangled in her throat.
He was so close. Too close. Close enough that she could see the faint shadow of morning stubble along his jaw. Could see the way his hair fell across his forehead, still mussed from sleep.
He leaned down. Slowly. So slowly. Giving her time to process. Time to panic. Time to realize exactly what was about to happen.
His face descended until their lips were separated by nothing. Less than nothing. A breath. Half a breath. Close enough that when he spoke, she felt the words against her mouth.
"Did you sleep well?"
The question was innocent. The proximity was not.
Divya couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't think beyond the breath separating his lips from hers. Her eyes fixed on his mouth, close enough to kiss, close enough to taste, close enough that the slightest movement from either of them would close the gap entirely.
Her heart hammered so hard she was certain he could hear it. Could sense the way her entire body had gone taut beneath him.
Vikram's eyes tracked her face. Noted the way her pupils had dilated. The way her lips had parted on an indrawn breath she'd forgotten to release. The way the pulse at her throat fluttered visibly.
His lips curved. Slow. Satisfied. Dangerous.
"You're very warm in the morning," he observed, voice dropping even lower. "Did you know that?"
She managed a sound. Not quite a word. Not quite a whimper.
"And you make these little sounds," he continued, seemingly unbothered by the fact that she'd stopped breathing entirely. "When you're sleeping. Soft. Contented. Like a kitten."
His thumb came up, traced the line of her jaw with aching slowness. The touch was feather-light. Deliberate. His eyes followed the movement, then returned to hers.
"Do you know what you do to me?" The question was quiet. Almost conversational. But something in his eyes had gone molten.
He leaned closer still. Impossibly closer. Until his lips hovered over hers, so close she could feel the shape of the words he spoke.
"Do you have any idea?"
Divya's fingers had found his t-shirt without her permission, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.
Her mind had gone completely blank. Her world had narrowed to this, his weight, his heat, his mouth almost touching hers, the unbearable anticipation building between them like a physical force.
She could kiss him. Should kiss him. Wanted to kiss him with an intensity that terrified her.
All she had to do was lift her head. Tilt her chin. Close the infinitesimal distance between them.
Vikram's eyes darkened further, reading every thought that crossed her face. Reading the want. The fear. The desperate, aching need she couldn't hide.
His thumb brushed across her lower lip. Soft. Possessive. Claiming.
Not yet.
Then he touched their noses together, gentle, playful, devastatingly tender, and pulled back.
The loss of his weight, his warmth, his proximity felt like being plunged into ice water.
"Good morning, Divya," he said again, voice still rough but now edged with satisfaction. He rolled to his side of the bed like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just unraveled her completely.
She lay there for three frozen seconds, mind blank, body still humming with frustrated tension.
Then she bolted.
The bathroom door slammed behind her. She pressed her back against it, both hands over her racing heart, lungs gasping for air she'd forgotten to breathe.
What was that? What was that?
He'd almost... She'd thought he was going to... she'd wanted him to
But he hadn't. Had just... teased her. Deliberately. Thoroughly. With that expression that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Knew exactly how close she'd been to closing that distance herself. Knew exactly how badly she'd wanted him to kiss her.
Her fingers touched her lips, still tingling from the phantom pressure of his almost-kiss.
Outside, Vikram settled back against the pillows, satisfaction warming his chest alongside something fiercer. Something hungry.
The way she'd looked at him. The way her fingers had clutched his shirt. The way her breath had caught when he'd gotten close.
She'd wanted him to kiss her. Had been ready to kiss him back.
Not yet. But soon. Very soon.
◆◆◆
They pretended nothing happened since Divya walked out of the bathroom. Not even when they got downstairs for breakfast, not even when they sat in the car, not even when they arrived on the set.
Divya handed him his call sheet without meeting his eyes. Coordinated with the production team with her usual efficiency.
Vikram went through his scenes with practiced ease. Hit his marks. Delivered his lines. Charmed the crew.
But his mind kept drifting. Not to the almost kiss, because if he let his mind drift there, he might carry Divya to vanity van right that instant and have his way with her.
Hence, he focused on last night. Her glowing face at the documentary. The way she'd laughed during the flashmob. How she'd fallen asleep in the car, trusting and content.
What else would bring her that kind of joy?
Between takes, he watched her coordinate with the assistant director. The familiar efficiency. The quiet competence.
An idea formed. Simple. Direct. Something she wouldn't expect.
He checked his watch. Three PM. They'd wrap by six.
He pulled out his phone.
That Evening
Divya looked up from her phone as the car turned down a familiar street. Her street. The one leading to her parents' apartment building.
"Where are we going?"
"Home," Vikram said simply.
"What? Why..." Panic crept into her voice. "You didn't tell me. I would have called ahead, my mother won't have prepared..."
"I ordered food. It'll arrive in twenty minutes." He parked smoothly. "Relax. It's just dinner with your family."
"But..."
He was already out, rounding to her side, opening her door. She climbed out on unsteady legs as curious neighbors began emerging onto balconies, drawn by the sight of Vikram Khanna's car parked in their modest colony.
Vikram waved at them. Actually waved.
"You can't just", she whispered, trying to step away. "People are staring."
"Let them stare." His hand settled at her waist, guiding her forward. "I'm visiting my in-laws. Very normal behavior."
The elevator ride felt eternal. When they reached the third floor, the hallway was crowded. Residents from multiple floors had somehow materialized, phones out, whispering.
Vikram paid them no attention.
Divya's mother stood at the door, expression cycling through shock and forced composure.
"Vikram beta! We weren't expecting... Divya didn't tell us."
"Surprise visit," Vikram said smoothly, touching her feet. "I hope that's alright. Divya mentioned she was missing you."
Divya hadn't mentioned any such thing. Her mother's eyes darted to her, silently asking for explanation.
"I've already ordered dinner," Vikram continued, producing his phone. "Should be here in fifteen minutes."
Her father appeared, did a visible double-take. "Vikram?"
"Sir." Vikram moved to greet him, but her father pulled him into an embrace instead.
"None of this formal nonsense. You're family now."
Aditya emerged from his room, eyes going wide. "No way."
"Take a photo if you want," Vikram offered. "Actually," he turned to Aditya with sudden focus. "Divya mentioned you're in engineering college. Third year?"
"Second," Aditya corrected, starstruck.
"Want me to visit campus? Do an informal session about media, filmmaking? Give some autographs."
Aditya's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"
"Completely. Divya can coordinate with your college administration." Vikram glanced at her. "If that's alright?"
Divya could only stare. He was offering to visit her brother's college. Casually. Like it was nothing.
Not long after, the food arrived. It was elaborate, expensive, from one of Mumbai's best restaurants. Her mother protested immediately.
"This is too much. We could have made…"
"Please," Vikram said gently. "You've raised an extraordinary daughter. You made my life easier by bringing Divya into the world. This is the least I can do."
The words, simple and sincere, made her mother's eyes glisten. Her father cleared his throat roughly, looking away.
Dinner was warm, chaotic. Her mother's questions. Aditya's eager chatter. Her father's careful observations. Vikram answered everything with patience and humor, asked about their lives with genuine interest.
He fit into her small apartment like he'd always belonged there.
Divya watched from across the table, something unfamiliar tightening in her chest.
When they finally left after promising to visit again, after Vikram touched her parents' feet, the entire building lined the hallway to watch them go.
Vikram waved at everyone before sliding into the driver's seat.
The car pulled away. Divya sat in stunned silence for three blocks.
"Why did you do that?" she finally asked.
"Do what?"
"This. Visit my parents without warning. Offer to visit Aditya's college. All of it."
Vikram kept his eyes on the road. "Mom called this afternoon. Mentioned you haven't been home since the wedding. Said it's traditional for the bride to visit her parents. That I should take you."
"Mom said that?"
"Mm-hmm. So I took you." He glanced at her briefly. "Problem?"
"No, I just…" She studied his profile. "That was very thoughtful of her."
"She's very thoughtful," he agreed.
Divya would never verify this with Kavita. Wouldn't think to question it.
And Vikram was content. She'd looked almost teary when he'd thanked her parents. Had watched him with something soft in her eyes when he'd offered to visit Aditya's college.
He needed more moments like this. To show her without saying it. To make her feel without pushing.
His hand found hers on the console between them. Threaded their fingers together.
She didn't pull away.
Progress.
Past Midnight
The house was silent. Only Vikram's study showed light. A single lamp illuminated the desk where he sat, phone in hand.
He'd left Divya sleeping an hour ago. She'd curled toward him unconsciously, that small expression lingering even in sleep.
It wasn't enough.
The documentary had been good. The home visit had been good. But they were safe. Public. Things any thoughtful person might arrange.
He needed something private. Something that would reach her through specificity.
He scrolled through his contacts. Mrs. Menon.
The phone rang three times. "Vikram? It's past midnight. Either someone died or you've finally realized you're in love."
Despite himself, he almost-smiled. "No one died."
"Ah." Warmth filled her voice. "So it's love. About time."
"I need your help."
"Obviously. What kind of information?"
"Personal preferences. Small things she loves but wouldn't think to mention."
Mrs. Menon was quiet for a moment. "You're serious about this."
"Completely."
"Good. Because that girl deserves someone who pays attention." A rustling sound. "What do you want to know?"
"Her favorite things. Food, places, routines. Things that bring her joy."
"Divya doesn't indulge much. She's practical. Saves money, avoids luxuries." Mrs. Menon paused. "But there is chai."
Vikram straightened. "Chai?"
"From a tapri near college. Nothing fancy. Street vendor with a metal cart. But Divya swore it was the best in the world. She'd walk fifteen minutes out of her way to get it between classes."
Vikram could picture it. Divya closing her eyes as she sipped, that rare contentment crossing her face.
"Location?"
"Near the old gate of college. Vendor's name is Raju. He's there every morning, six to eleven."
Vikram filed the information away.
"One more thing," Mrs. Menon added. "Grand gestures won't work with her. She'll find reasons to dismiss them. But if you pay attention to small things, details she thinks don't matter, that's what will reach her."
"I understand."
"I know you do. That's why I'm helping." Her voice softened. "Make her happy, Vikram. That's all the thanks I need."
The call ended.
Vikram set the phone down.
Tomorrow was a shoot day. Call time at eight. He'd need to leave by five-thirty to reach the tapri and return in time.
He turned off the lamp, the study plunging into darkness.
Upstairs, Divya slept peacefully, unaware that tomorrow morning would shift something between them.
Again.