CHAPTER 13 Kavita
Kavita
“What is this place?” I ask when he parks my scooter, and we stand in front of a construction site. It’s not too far from my grandmother’s place, but I don’t think I’ve seen it before.
“The builders left the plot unfinished when they ran into some sort of financial trouble,” Neel says as the guard recognizes him and lets us in.
“We won the bid for it a few years ago,” Neel continues.
“The development started last year, and this is one of our prime projects. It’s quiet, and the trees all around keep the air clean and the area green. ”
We walk along the narrow path lighted by lamp posts.
My eyes widen in wonder at the sight before me.
Lush greens surround Neel’s construction site.
Despite the unfinished look, there’s an undeniable charm to this place.
The quiet neighborhood is serene, and the air carries with it the rich scent of earth.
The raw beauty of nature is everywhere I turn.
It’s as if we’ve walked into an oasis in the middle of an urban jungle.
“We’ve constructed the plots around the existing trees so that we don’t destroy the natural beauty of this land,” he says.
“How did you even find such a gorgeous place?” I ask, staring in awe as we continue our walk.
“That’s what my company does,” he laughs. “That’s our team’s job. We look to buy or lease property as well as invest in development projects like this one.”
As he speaks more about his company, it’s clear how passionate he is about natural and eco-friendly environments.
I smile in wonder when we arrive at a small lake nestled at the end of the property. The water shimmers with the reflection of the lampposts surrounding it.
Neel gestures toward the lake, a hint of pride on his face.
“This lake’s one of our major projects. We worked hard to restore it and ensure a healthy ecosystem.
For me, it’s not just about constructing property but about blending in with nature and giving back to the environment.
” He pauses, glancing at me, sheepishly running a hand through his hair.
“Sorry, I tend to get carried away when I talk about work.”
“No, no need to apologize. I really admire what you’re doing.
I try to use eco-friendly materials in my designs, too.
It’s something I always talk to my clients about,” I say, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks as I realize I’m the one getting carried away now.
“You’ve touched on a topic that we both feel strongly about. ”
“We’re more alike than I thought,” he laughs as we take a stroll by the edge of the lake.
A few fireworks go off in the distance, although it’s not yet Diwali. The air feels a bit chilly, and I pull my dupatta around my shoulder.
He leads me to a large stone seat by the edge of the lake. “Come, let’s sit over here.” The stone is low, and he helps me sit down first.
The stone feels cool to touch beneath my fingertips. The atmosphere is soothing, the faint aroma of the lake mingling in the air. I take in the peaceful silence except for the soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze and the gentle chirping of crickets nearby.
As Neel settles down beside me, I feel the subtle warmth of his arm brush lightly against mine, our shoulders touching. His familiar scent envelops me like a comforting blanket. “My feet were killing me,” I say, flexing my toes. “I’m glad we found a seat.”
He shifts beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he turns. “Mine too. I’ve never danced like that before.”
I can’t help but smile, remembering his awkward steps earlier. Does he know how much he makes me smile? I’ve never felt this way around someone before.
“How about your knuckles?” I tease.
“They’re fine now.”
“Good thing you didn’t break anything,” I chuckle, nudging him playfully.
“Not exactly a smart move at my age,” he quips.
“Your age?” I laugh. “You’re never too old to dance!”
“I’m fifty, Kavita. Probably twice your age. And trust me, that was my first real dance.”
I’ve always known that he’s much older than me, but it doesn’t matter to me. Age is just a number, after all. I find myself drawn to the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles. “You don’t look fifty,” I say boldly. “I hope I’m still dancing when I’m your age.”
“You’ve got a long way to go,” he says. “But I bet you’ll be less awkward than me.”
I blush as his gaze shifts. The way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world. His eyes are intense yet gentle, and I find myself getting lost in them. There’s admiration there and warmth, and maybe something deeper—something that makes my heart race and my skin tingle.
I try to hide my reaction by rummaging inside my bag and pulling out a box of sweets. “Here,” I offer. “Want some?”
“What is that?” he asks, intrigued.
“Grandma passed me some laddoos she bought at the stall.”
“Ah, a little indulgence to end the night?” he says with a smile.
“A sweet ending to a memorable night, I think.” I extend the box toward him.
“I couldn’t agree more. It’s not every day we get to enjoy laddoos like these. Are you sure you want to share?”
“Of course! Help yourself.”
He grins and picks one up, popping it into his mouth. “Mmm, this is heavenly,” he says, savoring the sweet.
Looks like we share a love for traditional sweets. I smile. “Funny thing about age,” I say, circling back to our earlier topic. “Even though I’m only twenty-seven, my parents think that’s too old when it comes to marriage.”
He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I was almost thirty when I married Ramya, but now, in hindsight, I was also young and foolish.”
I hesitate for a moment, wondering if this would be appropriate, and then ask anyway. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you married?”
“Eight years,” he says. “Until it became so apparent that we wanted different things, and try as I did, I could not make it work.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It was a challenging time,” he shrugs. His eyes soften as our gazes meet and hold.
“But hey, at least now I have the wisdom to appreciate good company and delicious laddoos, right?” He picks up another laddoo and holds it up.
“Did you know that a laddoo is as timeless as a classic Bollywood movie?”
I notice he’s changing the subject to something lighter, maybe to avoid talking about his past. I decide to go along with it. I love movies, and I can talk about them all day. “I’d pick a timeless Amitabh Bachchan classic over the latest Netflix release any day,” I say.
“You mean you like the good old days when the Internet was unheard of and ‘fast food’ meant eating your mom’s homemade aloo tikkis in a hurry?”
I laugh. “Something like that.”
Soon, we’re talking about our favorite movies, and he’s surprised to learn that I love movies from the ‘90s like ‘Roja’ (his favorite too), and old movie stars like Rekha and Sridevi. And, of course, Amitabh Bachchan - Big B.
“Seriously, I didn’t think you even knew who Big B was!” he jokes. “Do you have a favorite Big B classic?”
“The angry young man in Deewar.”
“No way! Mine too!” He belly-laughs, and at that moment, something stirs deep inside me. It’s like every emotion that’s been skittering beneath the surface for days is now bubbling up.
We finish up the sweets and empty the box.
And then, as we’re ready to leave, I rise from the ledge. Suddenly, my foot slips, and I’m about to fall when he swiftly grasps my waist and steadies me.
Inadvertently, I’m pulled straight onto his lap. At that moment, our noses are inches apart. I feel his warm breath on my face, mixed with the sweet aroma of laddoos.
Time seems to stand still as I find myself lost in his deep, dark eyes.
My heart races and a familiar warmth spreads through my body.
His arms around me feel strong and protective, and I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to close the small distance between us and press my lips against his.
The thought sends a tingle down my spine, and I unconsciously lick my lips, my gaze dropping to his mouth.
I can feel the heat of his palm cupping my lower back and the solid muscles of his thighs beneath me.
It’s both thrilling and intoxicating, being this close to him.
Before I know it, I lean in, putting my arms around his neck, my lips brushing against his lightly.
My phone rings just then, the shrill ringtone ruining the moment. It’s Mom.
“Oh my gosh! I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry!” I pull away, staring at my feet in embarrassment. I didn’t expect to get carried away, although honestly, I don’t feel sorry for kissing Neel. Well, almost kissing him!
When I look up again, Neel is...blushing?
“That was...I mean...wow...um...” Neel stammers, his deep voice trailing off into a flustered chuckle, only making me want to kiss him again.
I can’t forget the look in his eyes and the way his gaze slides to my lips again when we part.
Thanks, Mom. Your timing couldn’t be worse if you tried.