CHAPTER 20
ANIKA
The car halts, and I gasp, my head snapping toward Aarav. All my anger—the frustration I’ve been carrying like baggage—suddenly drains away. He smiles at me, a small, almost shy smile that doesn't match the arrogant guy I’ve been mentally yelling at for the past hour.
"Dharma Chole!" I exclaim, recognizing the familiar corner stall.
"Yeah," he says simply.
I blink at him, completely thrown off. Of all the things he could’ve done.
.. he brought me here? It’s my favorite fast food place, the one where I used to waste all his pocket money without a shred of guilt, and he—he never once complained.
A smile tugs at my lips as the memories flood in, warming something inside me I didn’t realize had gone cold.
The city around us has changed so much over the years—new buildings, new people—but this tiny stall? It’s like it’s frozen in time.
The night air is cool as we step out of the car.
I glance around, taking it all in—the dim streetlights casting soft glows on the pavement, a few stragglers strolling by, and the air thick with the mouthwatering smell of chole and spices.
My stomach growls loudly, and I feel my face burn with embarrassment.
Great. Way to be subtle, Anika. But honestly, if there’s one thing I’m not shy about, it’s my love for food.
Judge me all you want, world. I'm a foodie, and I wear that badge with pride.
We walk toward the stall, and as we get closer, the man behind the counter looks up. His face breaks into a wide grin. "Aarav! Look who decided to show up after ages!"
I squint at him, studying the graying hair and the deeper wrinkles.
It takes a second—and then it clicks. My eyes widen.
I had expected him to retire by now, but here he is.
"Ajit Uncle!" I shout, "You have definitely aged," I exclaim, before immediately slapping my hand over my mouth. God, Anika. Could you be any ruder? He’s aged, not committed a crime.
But Uncle just laughs, his eyes crinkling warmly. "And look at you, Anika! All grown up—and so beautiful too." I am impressed; he still remembers me. He shakes his head. "How are you?"
I blush, ducking my head at the unexpected compliment. "I'm fine, Uncle. I hope you’re doing well too," I say, trying to recover.
"I’m good, beta. It’s so good to see you." His eyes flicker between Aarav and me, his smile turning a little mischievous. "So... you two are finally together?"
"No!" I yelp instinctively, shaking my head so hard I almost get whiplash. Aarav raises an eyebrow at me, clearly amused by my freak-out.
"We're not together, Uncle," he says casually. "We're married."
I literally choke on my own spit. My head whips toward him, mouth hanging open like an idiot. Ajit Uncle looks just as shocked, but he recovers faster than me. "You two got married and didn’t even invite me?" he says, half-joking but still sounding a little hurt.
"It all happened really fast, Uncle," Aarav says smoothly, like this whole situation isn’t completely insane.
Uncle chuckles and shakes his head. "Same order as always?" he asks, looking at me.
I nod eagerly, my stomach already doing happy cartwheels. I see Aarav taking out his wallet, and before I can even start protesting, he shakes his head and frowns—as if he can read my thoughts. I can’t let him pay, especially after everything, but I also know he won’t listen.
He takes out some cash and hands it over to Uncle, but that’s not what catches my eye.
It’s a photo. Peeking out from the transparent sleeve of his wallet. Me and Aarav—maybe ten?—sitting in the backyard of my old house, sunlight in our eyes, my fingers forming a V behind his head while we both grinned like idiots at the camera. My breath hitches.
Aarav grabs my hand, steering me toward the small metal tables set up nearby. I let him pull me along, still a little dazed from the whiplash of emotions. We sit across from each other, the plastic chair creaking under me as I plop down.
"You… kept that?" I ask quietly; he tilts his head, confused. “Our photo, in your wallet,” I add.
Realization dawns on him, and he clears his throat. “Yeah,” he says. “It made me feel closer to you.”
I scoff, not even trying to hide it. “That’s rich.” You didn’t reply to a single one of my letters, but you wanted to feel close to me? Unbelievable. Still my heart pounds at the thought.
His face breaks into a sad smile.
Silence stretches, thick and hesitant. Then I ask, barely above a whisper, “How long?”
He doesn’t look at me right away. Just runs a hand over his jaw before answering, “Since I started keeping a wallet.” Why? I want to shout at him. Then why did he not reply? Why did he never reach out?
I eye him suspiciously. This is too nice. Aarav being this nice? Yeah, no. Something’s up.
"Okay, spill," I say, narrowing my eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
Aarav leans back in his chair, the picture of relaxed arrogance, a lazy smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Can't a guy treat the woman he married once in a while?"
I cross my arms, unimpressed. "Not buying it."
He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head like I’m being ridiculous. "I was picking up food for Bhabhi. She was craving it. Thought I’d kill two birds with one stone—grab my dinner and... talk to you about the nurses I shortlisted."
He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed.
His cheeks even turn a little red, and for a second, I don't know what to do with this version of him—the one that's not all smug and impossible. Typical Aarav, though. Even when he’s being thoughtful, there’s efficiency involved.
He’s a businessman before he’s anything else.
Always about saving time, maximizing results.
It stings a little, that tiny reminder: I’m not his family.
I’m just part of a job he needs to manage.
The giddy feelings vanish from my gut on the thoughts.
He pulls out his phone and slides it across the table to me. "Here. Go through these. You can call them and see if you’re comfortable with any of them."
I scroll through the PDFs, checking the profiles. God, he actually put effort into this.
"Thank you," I whisper, barely able to meet his eyes.
His expression softens. "Don’t thank me. If none of them are good enough, I'll find more. It’s important."
I stare at him, really stare, and something inside me tugs painfully.
When he raises an eyebrow, questioning, I shake my head a little, still stunned.
"It’s just... surprising," I say finally, "to see that you can actually be thoughtful sometimes.
.. considering how painfully stuck-up you usually are. "
Aarav scoffs, but there’s a real smile on his face this time. Not the smug ones he throws around like weapons. A real one. "Oh, wow. A backhanded compliment from Miss Toofan herself. I must be doing something right," he says, his voice low and teasing.
He leans forward, twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My breath catches, but I force myself to stay still. "Don’t get too used to it," I mutter, swatting his hand away. "Your arrogance is your biggest flaw. Hands down."
"Careful, my beautiful wife," he laughs, a rich, deep sound that sends warmth flooding through me despite myself. "You’re way too quick with those insults."
And then he really laughs—head thrown back, eyes crinkling, the kind of laugh that makes you forget you’re supposed to be mad, supposed to be guarded, supposed to not believe in forever.
For a second, it feels like we’re not married out of convenience, not trapped in whatever awkward mess this is.
It feels... easy. Natural. Dangerous. I’m still staring at him when the waiter brings our plates.
The smell of chole fills the air, thick and delicious, and my stomach roars loudly again, betraying me once more.
Aarav laughs even harder, covering his mouth but failing miserably. "You and your love for food," he teases.
"Don’t judge me," I grumble, already stuffing my mouth like a starved prisoner. My nose stings as my thoughts run through endless miles of ever after—forever. I shove them away before I reply to him. "This is literally the best part of my day."
There is no way Aarav can get a hint on what goes on in my head.
He watches me eat with that stupid soft smile still lingering on his lips, and for a moment—for just a heartbeat—I let myself pretend that this is real.
That this is normal. That maybe, just maybe, we’re something more than two strangers tied together by circumstance and stubbornness.
It stings, but still I let myself be a fool and believe it.
But reality waits, just outside the bubble we’ve somehow created tonight. And it’s only a matter of time before it crashes in.