12
The weight of the heavy silk saree felt like armor, but it didn't make Adhira feel strong. It made her feel trapped.
The deep emerald fabric was stiff, the gold zari border scratching against her waist as she took a shaky breath.
Her mother had insisted on pinning a string of fresh, fragrant jasmine into her braid, the scent so cloyingly sweet it made Adhira's head spin.
She looked at herself in the mirror, she was every inch the perfect, traditional daughter and felt like a stranger.
Her heart was like a weight in her chest. Every step toward the living room felt like a march toward a life sentence.
"Adhira, come, beta. They're here," her father called out, his voice brimming with a rare, excited warmth.
Adhira straightened her spine, her face a mask of cold, numb resolve. She smoothed the silk pleats over her hips and walked out.
She kept her eyes on the floor as she entered the living room. She saw the polished shoes of the guests, the hem of a yellow cotton saree, Savita ji,and then, a pair of formal black trousers and stiff, ironed dress shoes.
"Adhira, you remember Savita ji," her mother said, her voice practically singing. "And this... is her son."
Adhira slowly lifted her gaze and all her thoughts died in her mind.
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking like he wanted to vanish into the upholstery, was Shreyash. He was wearing a crisp, pale blue formal shirt, the sleeves neatly buttoned at his wrists. His hair was brushed back, but a single, stubborn lock had already fallen over his forehead.
He looked up at her, and his jaw literally dropped. His eyes behind his glasses were dinner-plate wide, filled with an expression of such pure, unadulterated shock that he looked like he'd been struck by lightning.
"Shreyash?" she breathed, the numbness shattering into a million pieces of disbelief.
"Adhira?" he croaked, his voice cracking.
The parents exchanged a look of smug, triumphant delight. Her mother didn't even try to hide her smirk.
"Oh, look at that, they already know each other," her father chuckled, leaning back. "Well, that makes things much easier. Why don't you two go to Adhira's room? You can talk privately. We have plenty of 'boring' elder things to discuss anyway."
Adhira didn't wait. She turned on her heel and marched toward her bedroom, her silk saree rustling loudly in the silent hallway. Shreyash followed her, his footsteps heavy and hesitant, like a man walking toward a firing squad.
The moment he stepped inside her room, Adhira slammed the door shut.
The click of the lock echoed like a gunshot. The tension in the small room was so thick it felt physical, pressing against them from all sides. Shreyash stayed near the door, his hands fumbling nervously with the hem of his shirt, his gaze fixed firmly on the rug.
"Adhira, I... I had no idea," he started, his voice thick and wavering. He finally looked up, and the raw guilt in his eyes was staggering. "Please, don't be angry. I didn't know it was you. My mom just said it was a family friend... if I had known, I wouldn't have just... shown up."
He took a shaky step forward, his chest heaving under the blue cotton.
"I'm so sorry for whatever I did to make you feel like that in the library.
I've been thinking about it all week, trying to figure out where I overstepped.
I... I promise, I'll tell them I'm not interested. I won't let them force this on you."
Adhira stared at him. She looked at his flushed face, his panicked eyes, and his willingness to walk away just to save her from discomfort.
The sheer, overwhelming relief hit her like a tidal wave. The grief, the anger, the terror of the last few days, it all evaporated, replaced by a surge of love so violent it left her breathless.
"Shreyash," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
"I'll fix it, Adhira, really," he continued, his words tumbling over each other. "I'll tell them I'm not ready, or that I..."
Adhira didn't let him finish. She crossed the room in two strides.
She reached up and fisted her hand into his stiff, formal collar, the knuckles of her hand brushing against the burning heat of his throat. Before he could even gasp, she yanked him forward and walked him backward with a fierce, unstoppable momentum.
Shreyash stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock, until the back of his thighs hit the edge of her heavy wooden study table.
Adhira didn't stop. She pressed her body flush against his, the emerald silk of her saree crushing against his blue shirt. She leaned in, her eyes locked onto his dilated pupils, and kissed him.
It wasn't a soft kiss. It was raw, demanding, and filled with all the desperation of the last week.
She tasted the spice of the tea he'd just had and felt the sharp intake of his breath against her lips.
Her fingers tightened in his collar, pulling him closer, until there wasn't a single millimeter of air left between them.
When she finally pulled back, her own breath was coming in ragged gasps.
Shreyash was frozen. His hands were hovering in mid-air, palms open as if he didn't know whether to catch her or hold on for dear life. He looked utterly short-circuited.
Slowly, visibly, the blood began to rise. A deep, violent shade of crimson started at his collarbone, crept up his neck in a frantic wave, painted his jawline, and finally overtook his entire face until even the tips of his ears were glowing.
He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stared at her, his chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked bursts.
"I wasn't mad at you in the library," Adhira whispered, her voice unapologetic and fierce. She didn't let go of his collar. "I was mad because the only person I wanted to be with was my idiot tutor who didn't even realize I was in love with him."
Shreyash made a small, choked sound in the back of his throat.
"I like you, Shreyash," she said, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the heat radiating off him. "I've liked you for a long time. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I was terrified."
She leaned in closer, her forehead resting against his. "So, tell me now. Before we go back out there. Are you going to accept this engagement? Or am I going to have to kiss you again to convince you?"
Shreyash let out a long, shuddering exhale.
His brain, usually capable of compiling complex algorithms in seconds, had completely and utterly circuited.
He looked down at her lips, then back up to her eyes, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow bursts.
The threat of another kiss didn't make him bold, it absolutely short-circuited whatever tiny shred of composure he had left.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily as his trembling fingers nervously found the back of his bright red neck. He looked entirely terrified, completely awestruck, and hopelessly in love.
He gave a slow, definite, and incredibly desperate nod.
"Y-yes," he choked out, his deep voice cracking entirely, abandoning him when he needed it most. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his hands gripping the edge of the wooden table behind him just to keep himself upright.
"Yes, I'll say yes if you don't mind me.
I... you don't have to convince me. I'd agree to anything. "
Adhira let out a soft, triumphant laugh, her breath brushing warmly against his flushed cheek. She finally let go of his collar, smoothing out the crumpled blue cotton of his shirt with gentle, lingering fingers, entirely satisfied with how everything turned out.