13
Adhira was still standing flush against him, her palms resting flat on the rapid, frantic rise and fall of his chest, when three sharp knocks shattered the thick, heavy air of the bedroom.
"Adhi? Shreyash?" Her mother's voice filtered through the wood, thinly veiled behind a polite, hosting tone. "Are you two alright in there? It's been twenty minutes."
Shreyash jolted so violently his hips hit the edge of the study table again.
His hands flew up, hovering defensively as if he expected her mother to burst through the locked door.
"Twenty minutes?" he choked out, his voice a panicked, breathless rasp.
He looked down at Adhira, his dark eyes entirely wild.
"Adhira, we've been in here for twenty minutes. "
Adhira couldn't help it, a low, deeply satisfied laugh slipped past her lips.
"I know," she murmured, her voice a husky, sensual hum that made him shiver all over again. She didn't step back immediately. Instead, she let her hands drag deliberately down the front of his crisp blue shirt, feeling the hard line of his stomach tense beneath the cotton.
Shreyash squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a fractured groan. "Please," he begged softly, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white. "Please, Adhira. My mother is out there. I look... I look completely..."
"You look beautiful," she whispered fiercely, stepping back just enough to let him breathe. She reached up, her thumb lightly grazing the corner of his lips before she gently brushed the stubborn lock of hair off his burning forehead. "You just look perfectly, thoroughly convinced."
Shreyash swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply. He dragged a trembling hand down his face, the tips of his ears still glowing a bright red. "They are going to know," he murmured weakly. "The second they look at me, they are going to know."
"Let them, I'm sure they know enough already" Adhira said smoothly.
She turned and unlatched the door. The loud click echoed in the quiet room. Shreyash took a deep, shuddering breath, desperately trying to pull his composed mask back into place, but the flush on his neck completely betrayed him.
They walked out into the hallway side by side. The transition from the heavy, charged intimacy of the bedroom to the bright, noisy house was jarring. The scent of jasmine and frying sweets hit them instantly, mixed with the low murmur of their parents talking in the living room.
As they neared the archway, Shreyash stiffened, his steps slowing with undeniable panic. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy, keeping a strict, terrifyingly polite foot of distance between them.
Adhira didn't look at him. She kept her gaze fixed forward, the picture of absolute, traditional grace in her heavy emerald silk.
But down in the narrow space between them, perfectly hidden by the thick, rustling folds of her saree, she slowly extended her hand. She didn't grab his palm. She just let the back of her hand brush against his, before deliberately hooking her bare pinky finger around his long, trembling one.
The physical jolt that went through Shreyash was unmistakable. He stopped breathing.
For a split second, she felt the rigid tension in his hand, a momentary hesitation born of sheer terror. But then, with a sharp, ragged exhale, his long pinky curled back around hers. He gripped her finger tightly, a silent, desperate anchor in the storm of his own overwhelming shyness.
Her heart did a violent, soaring flip. She tightened her hold, a profound, electric warmth shooting straight up her arm, and stepped into the bright light of the living room.
The conversation on the sofas instantly ceased.
Four pairs of expectant eyes snapped toward the archway.
Adhira stood tall, making absolutely no effort to hide her expression. Her lips were slightly swollen, her chin tilted up with a bold, unapologetic confidence, and a radiant, deeply smug smile played on her face. She looked like a queen who had just effortlessly conquered a kingdom.
Beside her, Shreyash looked like he had barely survived a hurricane.
His collar was slightly wrinkled. His hair was messy.
But it was his face that gave it all away.
The deep, furious blush had crept out from beneath his collar, painted his jawline, and settled intensely across his cheekbones.
He couldn't meet anyone's eyes. He stared rigidly at the polished coffee table, nervously adjusting his glasses with his free hand, looking so utterly, delightfully short-circuited that it was impossible to misinterpret what had just happened.
A heavy silence hung in the living room for exactly three seconds.
Adhira's father was the first to crack. He let out a loud, booming chuckle, slapping his knee as he leaned back against the cushions.
Savita ji covered her mouth with the edge of her yellow saree, her eyes crinkling in pure, delighted amusement as she looked at her fiercely shy son, who was currently trying to magically blend into the wallpaper.
"Well," Adhira's mother chimed in, a triumphant, knowing gleam in her sharp eyes. She didn't ask a single question. She didn't need to. She just looked at Adhira's glowing face and Shreyash's burning one. "I suppose we should bring out the sweets, then."
"I think so too," Savita ji agreed, her voice trembling with laughter. "Though, looking at my son, I think he has already had more than enough sugar for one day."
At his mother's teasing words, Shreyash let out a mortified, strangled sound, his blush somehow deepening to an impossible shade of scarlet. He ducked his head further, entirely defeated.
Adhira laughed, a bright, uninhibited sound that echoed through the house. Beneath the heavy folds of emerald silk, she gave his pinky a firm, reassuring squeeze, absolutely refusing to ever let him go.