Abhimanyu stood in his bedroom at 7 AM, staring at his phone. Operation Win Back Pihu (And Maybe Also Mishti But That's Irrelevant) Phase Two was about to commence.
"Yeh pakka kaam karega," he muttered to himself, scrolling through his playlist. "Bollywood hamesha kaam karta hai."
He found the song...the perfect song. Mere Saamne Wali Khidki Mein.
Nimmi Maasi appeared in his doorway with tea. "Beta, yeh subah subah kya kar raha hai tu?"
"Maasi, aap dekhna. Mishti ko mana lunga aaj." he grinned.
"Aise?" She looked skeptical.
"Trust me."
Ten minutes later, Abhimanyu had dragged his Bluetooth speaker onto his balcony. Mishti's bedroom window was directly across from his, maybe fifteen feet away.
He checked his reflection in his phone camera, fixed his hair and cleared his throat.
"Yeh toh filmi scene ho jayega," he told himself. "Woh sach mein pighal jayegi."
"Arey Hai... La La La La La La La..."
Abhimanyu began mouthing the words dramatically, his hands on his heart. Mishti's curtains were still drawn but he could hear footsteps and it rustling... which definitely meant it was her.
"Mere Saamne Waali Khidki Mein..."
He pointed at her window with both hands, swaying to the music.
"Ek Chaand Ka Tukra Rehta Hai..."
Abhimanyu increased his enthusiasm, dropping to one knee on his balcony floor, arms spread wide.
"MERE SAAMNE WAALI KHIDKI MEIN EK CHAND EK EK CHAAND KA TUKRA REHTA HAI!" !" he sang along, his expression purposely over-the-top.
From below, he heard someone laugh. Mrs. Kapoor from the ground floor was watching, her morning chai forgotten.
"Abhimanyu beta! Yeh kya ho raha hai?" she called up, delighted.
He waved at her distractedly, still mouthing the words:
FINALLY, Mishti's curtain twitched.
Abhimanyu's face lit up. He stood up, beginning an elaborate dance routine he'd seen Shah Rukh Khan do once. Arms out, hips swaying, completely shameless.
"Afsos Ye Hai Ke Wo Humse..."
Mishti stood there in her sleep suit, hair in a messy bun, looking absolutely ready to murder him. .
Abhimanyu grinned hopefully, still dancing. He pointed at her: "KUcH UKHRA UKHRA REHTA HAI!"
She stared at him, could see her mouth moving, probably cursing him in Bengali.
He dropped to both knees now, hands clasped in prayer position, mouthing: "MERE SAAMNE WAALI KHIDKI MEIN—"
SLAM.
She yanked her window shut so hard the frame shook.
The music continued playing cheerfully.
"Ek Chaand Ka Tukra Rehta Hai..."
Abhimanyu remained on his knees, staring at her closed window.
"Bhaiyya! BHAIYYA!" It was Raju, the building watchman, calling from the street. "Bahut accha perform kiya! Ek baar aur!"
"Nahi, Raju bhai, bas—"
But several other neighbors had gathered now, clearly entertained by the morning's drama.
"Arre wah! Romance kar rahe hain!"
"Mishti beti ne window band kar di, Abhi beta! Aur kuch try karo!"
Abhimanyu wanted the balcony floor to swallow him whole.
From his house, he heard Nimmi Maasi's cackle. "MAINE BOLA THA NA!"
He grabbed his speaker and fled inside, his face burning.
Bollywood is a LIE, he thought furiously. A complete and total LIE....
That night, after coming back from work, Abhimanyu was sprawled on his couch, drowning his sorrows in biryani, when his doorbell rang.
"Maasi, please dekho—"
"BHAIYYAAA!"
The door burst open and Aaravi swept in like a hurricane, all flowing kurta, jangling bangles, and mischievous energy.
"Aaravi, maine kaha tha phone karke—" Abhimanyu started.
"Haan haan, par emergency hai! Nimmi Maasi ne call kiya—" Aaravi stopped mid-sentence, taking in Abhimanyu's defeated posture. "Haaye, kitne bure haal hain hamare bhaiyya ke!"
"Aaravi, please, abhi mood nahi hai—"
But she was already settling onto the couch beside him, patting his head like he was a sad puppy. "Koi baat nahi, sab theek ho jayega. Pehle batao...yeh maine jo suna, woh sach hai? Aapne sach mein Mishti bhabhi ko yeh sab kaha?"
Abhimanyu groaned. "Nimmi Maasi ne kya kya bola tumhe?"
"Sab kuch! Ki Pihu almost accident mein, aapne use bacha liya.. wah wah, hero ban gaye! Par phir..." She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with the glee "...phir aapne Mishti bhabhi ko bola ki woh careless hain? Irresponsible hain? Aur—OH MY GOD—aapne London wala topic bhi touch kiya?"
She smacked his arm. Hard.
"OW! Aaravi!"
"AISE KIYA AAPNE, BHAIYYA?" Another smack. "HAMAARI MISHTI BHABHI KE SAATH?"
"She's not your bhabhi!" Abhimanyu protested, rubbing his arm. "Aur haan, I know, I messed up! Isliye toh main try kar raha hoon—"
"Haan haan, Nimmi Maasi ne bataya. Flowers le gaye." She made a dismissive gesture. "Basic. Boring. Predictable."
"Toh phir aaj subah—"
"HAAN! Yeh bhi suna!" Aaravi burst out laughing. "Entire building ne suna! Mrs. Kapoor ne video bhi bana li! Main ne dekhi!"
"WHAT?" Abhimanyu sat up in horror. "Video?"
She giggled. "Bhai, tum WhatsApp pe viral ho gaya hai. Hamare society group mein."
Abhimanyu buried his face in his hands. "Mujhe maar daalo. Please, koi mujhe maar daalo."
"Nahi nahi, suicide se pehle plan toh suno!" Aaravi pulled his hands away from his face, suddenly serious. "Dekho bhaiyya, main tumhari help karungi. Par pehle—" She grabbed his ear, twisting slightly.
"OW OW OW! Aaravi, chodo!"
"Pehle promise karo ki tum Mishti bhabhi ko kabhi—KABHI—hurt nahi karoge. Woh meri nayi best friend hai. Agar tumne dobara usse rula diya na, main tumhare aur bhi kuch tod dungi. Samjhe?"
"Haan haan! Samjha! Ab chodo!"
She released him, patting his cheek affectionately. "Good. Ab, flowers aur songs se kaam nahi chalega."
"Toh kya karun?" Abhimanyu asked desperately. "Maine sorry bola, flowers diye, gana gaya—"
"Aur sab mein fail ho gaye, kyunki yeh sab generic hai!" Aaravi interrupted. "Tumhe kuch personal karna hoga. Something meaningful. Something jo sirf Mishti ke liye ho.. jo dikhaye ki tumhe actually pata hai ki woh kaun hai."
Abhimanyu blinked. "Personal? Matlab?"
"Matlab, bhaiyya..." Aaravi leaned back, gesturing expressively. "...tumhe Mishti ko yeh dikhana hoga ki tumhe yaad hai. Uske baare mein. Uski pasand, uska dar, uske sapne. Flowers toh kisi ko bhi de sakte ho. Par kuch aisa karo jo sirf USKE liye meaningful ho."
"Par... par main usse 5 saal se mila nahi tha. Mujhe kya pata usse ab kya pasand hai?"
"Toh pehle woh pata karo na!" Aaravi said as if it was obvious. "Bachpan mein usse kya pasand tha? Woh kya karti thi jab upset hoti thi? Uska favorite kya tha?"
Abhimanyu's mind went blank for a moment, then slowly, memories started trickling back.
Mishti at fifteen, sneaking her grandfather's old camera, taking photos of everything.
Mishti at seventeen, stress-eating chocolate chip ice cream during boards.
Mishti at nineteen, dragging him and Akshay to that small bookshop because they had rare poetry collections.
"I..." He looked at Aaravi. "I think... I think I might have an idea."
"Haan?" She leaned forward eagerly. "Batao!"
"Nahi, abhi nahi. I need to... I need to think about it properly." He stood up, suddenly energized. "But Aaravi, agar yeh bhi kaam nahi kiya toh?"
"Toh phir honestly give up kar dena," she said cheerfully. "Kyunki phir tumhare paas chance hi nahi hai."
"Thanks. Bahut helpful ho tum."
"Arre, par bhaiyya..." Aaravi's expression turned sly. "Ek baat batao honestly. Yeh sab tum Pihu ke liye kar rahe ho... ya Mishti bhabhi ke liye?"
Abhimanyu froze. "Obviously Pihu ke liye. Woh bachhi hai, use meri zaroorat hai—"
"Haan haan, bachhi ko zaroorat hai. Par tumhe?" She tilted her head. "Tumhe kiski zaroorat hai?"
"Main... yeh kya sawaal hai?"
. "Saaf sawaal hai, bhaiyya. Tum Mishti ko manana chahta hai taaki Pihu se mil sake, ya tu Mishti bhabhi ko manana chahta hai kyunki... tum Mishti bhabhi ko manana chahta hai?"
"Dono!" Abhimanyu blurted, then immediately looked horrified. "Matlab—I mean—obviously dono, because if I fix things with Mishti, then Pihu automatically—"
"Bhaiyya." Aaravi stood up, walking over to him. She put both hands on his shoulders, looking him dead in the eye. "Jab tak tum khud se honest nahi hoge, Mishti bhabhi se kaise honest hoge?"
"Main honest hoon!"
"Sach mein? Toh batao.. Mishti bhabhi ka rona tumhe kyun itna affect kar raha hai? Mishti bhabhi ka tumse baat na karna tumhe kyun itna disturb kar raha hai? Sirf Pihu ki wajah se?"
Aaravi smiled knowingly. "Yehi. Jab yeh sawaal ka jawab mil jaye, tab apology meaningful hogi. Tab gesture kaam karega."
She turned to Nimmi. "Chalo, Nimmi maasi, hum zara walk pe jaate hai... Mere bhaiyya ko thoda sochne ka time chahiye."
They left, and Abhimanyu was alone with his thoughts.
And his thoughts were very, very confused.
Because the truth was that yes, he missed Pihu. But the ache in his chest wasn't just about Pihu.
It was about the way Mishti had looked at him, like he'd broken something precious.
It was about 5 years of wondering where she was, if she was okay, if she ever thought about them.
............................................................................................................................
At around 10 PM at night,
Mishti's phone buzzed while she was scrolling through instagram reels.
Aaravi: Bhabhi please jaldi aao courtyard mein. Emergency hai.
Mishti: Kya hua? Sab theek hai?
Aaravi: Haan haan theek hai par please aao. Pihu ko ghar pe chhod dena, sirf tum aao.
Mishti: Aaravi yeh kya—
Aaravi: PLEASE BHABHI. Trust me. ❤️ Mai aati hoon aapke ghar.. Pihu ko dekhne, toh aap fikar naa karo ghar pe akeli nahi hogi.
At 10:08 PM, Mishti made her way down to the courtyard, her dupatta wrapped around her shoulders against the evening breeze. The building's central courtyard was usually empty at this time, just the old mango tree and some benches.
But today...
The mango tree privately hidden from the rest of the courtyard. was glowing.
Fairy lights, several hundreds were strung through its branches, creating a canopy of soft golden light. And hanging from the branches, clipped to thin strings, were photographs.
Oh.
There she was at sixteen, gap-toothed and grinning, squished between Akshay and Abhimanyu. Abhimanyu's arm slung around her shoulder, her hands holding ice cream, all of them laughing at something.
Another photo: the three of them at their schools garden, Mishti's head thrown back in laughter as Abhimanyu dangled a worm in front of her face. She remembered that day, she'd chased him for ten minutes afterward.
Another: Akshay's eighteenth birthday. Mishti with cake smeared on her nose, Abhimanyu trying to look innocent, clearly the culprit.
More and more. a visual timeline of their childhood, their friendship, their history. She saw herself growing up in these photos. from awkward teenager to young adult. And in every single one, Abhimanyu was there. Sometimes in focus, sometimes blurred in the background, but always there.
"Yeh sab..." she whispered, her fingers reaching up to touch one photo, her at nineteen, sitting on Akshay's bike, Abhimanyu standing beside her, both of them eating kulfi. His eyes weren't on the camera. They were on her.
Had they always been on her?
"Main ne sab save kar ke rakhe the."
Mishti spun around.
Abhimanyu stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking nervous in a way she'd never seen him. He was dressed simply, dark jeans and a white kurta, but there was something different about him tonight.
"Abhi—"
"Please. Please, bas... bas sun lo meri baat. Ek baar." He took a careful step forward. "Uske baad agar tum chaho ki main chala jaun, main chala jaunga. I promise."
Mishti wanted to say no. Wanted to turn around and leave. But her feet wouldn't move.
He seemed to take her silence as permission. Moving slowly, he gestured to the base of the tree where a picnic blanket was spread out. On it sat a basket and a small container.
"Baitho. Please."
Against her better judgment, Mishti found herself sitting on the blanket. Abhimanyu sat across from her, maintaining distance.
"Yeh sab..." She gestured vaguely at the lights, the photos.
"Aaravi ne help ki. Par idea mera tha." He pulled the basket closer, opening it. "Tumhe yaad hai yeh tree? Hum teeno yahaan baith ke ghar ke aam khaate the. Har garmi mein."
How could she forget? This mango tree had been their spot. Their secret meeting place.
He pulled out a mango, holding it up. "Main ne sare aam yahan se hi liye hain. . Aaj subah todhe."
Despite herself, Mishti felt her lips twitch. "Kanjoos.. Tum toh kabhi share bhi nahi karte the. Mere liye?"
"Tumhare liye? Haan." He said it so simply, so honestly, that Mishti's breath caught.
He opened the small container next, and the sweet scent of mishti doi filled the air.
Mishti's eyes widened. "Yeh..."
"Tumhara favorite. Main ne... main ne khud try kiya banane. YouTube dekh ke aur Maasi ke help se." He looked embarrassed. "Pata nahi kitna accha bana hai, par—"
"Tumne yeh banaya?" Her voice came out softer than she intended.
"Haan. Three attempts mein finally set hua." He pushed the container toward her. "Please, try karo."
Mishti picked up the spoon with trembling fingers, taking a small bite. The sweet, creamy yogurt melted on her tongue, it wasn't quite like the Bengali sweet shops made it, but close.
"It's... it's really good, Abhi."
She saw his shoulders relax slightly.
"Mishti..." He took a deep breath. "Main... main bahut bada gadha hoon. 5 saal pehle bhi, aur ab bhi."
"Abhi—"
"Nahi, please, mujhe bolne do." He shifted closer, his eyes earnest. "Jab Pihu ko... jab main ne usse dekha road pe, woh bike aa rahi thi, main—" His voice cracked. "Main kabhi itna dara nahi tha. Aur jab main ne usse pakda, jab woh safe thi, sab... sab darr gusse mein badal gaya. Aur main ne woh gussa tumpe nikaal diya."
Tears were already gathering in Mishti's eyes.
"Par woh sirf darr nahi tha," Abhimanyu continued, his own eyes glistening. "Woh... woh paanch saal ka dukh bhi tha. Tum chali gayi thi, Mishti. Bina kuch kahe, bina kuch bataye. Ek din thi, next day London ke liye nikal gayi. Aur main... main itna hurt tha, itna angry tha ki main ne tumhe hurt kiya. Deliberately."
"Aur main us din se pachta raha hoon." A tear slipped down his cheek. "Main chahta tha ki tum buri feel karo kyunki main bura feel kar raha tha. Main chahta tha ki tumhe bhi dard ho kyunki mujhe ho raha tha. Aur yeh... yeh galat tha. Completely, totally galat tha."
He moved onto his knees on the blanket, facing her fully. "Tum ek amazing maa ho. Pihu itni lucky hai ki usse tum mili. Tumne usse akele paal-poss ke bada kiya, main soch bhi nahi sakta kitna tough raha hoga. Aur main... maine tumhe careless, irresponsible bola? Tumse zyada responsible, zyada strong koi nahi hai jo main jaanta hoon."
"Abhi..." Mishti's voice broke.
"Aur London wali baat—" He wiped his eyes roughly. "Mujhe koi haq nahi tha woh bolne ka. Tum gayi kyunki tumhe jaana pada. Main jaanta hoon. tum ne apne liye choose kiya, aur main... main tumhe kabhi us cheez ke liye judge nahi kar sakta. I'm very proud of you Mishti. Hamesha se."
Mishti was fully crying now, silent tears streaming down her face.
Abhimanyu gently took her hands in his. "I'm sorry. Dil se, genuinely, I'm so, so sorry. Jo main ne kaha, jo main ne feel karaya, sab kuch. I'm sorry ki main ne tumhe support nahi kiya jab tumhe sabse zyada zaroorat thi. I'm sorry ki main ne apna hurt tumhare upar nikala. Aur I'm sorry ki main ne paach saal waste kar diye angry rehne mein jab... jab main tumhe miss kar raha tha."
He reached into his shirt pocket with shaking fingers and pulled out something, an official card, yellowed slightly with age, the edges worn.
"Yeh... yeh tumhe dena chahta tha. Paanch saal pehle."
Mishti took it with trembling hands. It was an invitation, formal, embossed.
Cadet Abhimanyu Khanna requests the honor of your presence at the NDA Ball Party...
Her eyes widened. "Yeh... yeh tumhara NDA ball tha?"
"Haan. Main... main tumhe invite karna chahta tha. Properly. Ask karna chahta tha ki... ki kya tum mere saath aaogi. As my..." He swallowed hard. "As my date."
" As your date?? Mujhe?" she asked flabbergasted.
" Haan I mean Akshay ko thodi puch sakta tha" he responded.
'" Kyu Nahi?" she asked.
" Arrey Yaar... woh sab chhodo na!" he groaned losing patience.
"Haan.. toh main kya keh raha tha?... Haan, par before I could ask you, tum... tum London chali gayi. Aur main... main phir kabhi bol nahi paya."
Abhimanyu stood up slowly, then extended his hand to her.
"Mishti Banerjee..." His voice was soft, hopeful. "Main jaanta hoon main paach saal late hoon. Main jaanta hoon main ne sab kuch mess up kiya hai. Par... kya main tumse pooch sakta hoon?"
"May I have this dance?"
Mishti looked at his outstretched hand, at his hopeful face, at the fairy lights glowing in the mango tree of their childhood.
Slowly, but hesitantly, she placed her hand in his.
He pulled her up gently, carefully, like she was something precious. His other hand hovered near her waist but didn't touch.
From somewhere, Aaravi had set it up, soft music began to play.
Dekha hazaron dafa aapko
Phir beqarari kaisi hai
Sambhale sambhalta nahi ye dil
Kuch aap mein baat aisi hai
Lekar ijazat ab aap se
Saansein ye aati jaati hain
Dhoondhe se milte nahi hain hum
Bas aap hi aap baaki hain
They began to sway, barely moving, just existing in each other's space.
"Main itna bura hoon dancing mein," Abhimanyu whispered.
"Main jaanti hoon." Mishti's voice was soft. "Remember school ke functions? Tum mere pairon pe kitni baar step karte the. Bhul kaise sakti?"
He chuckled softly. "Main bhi nahi. Main... Mishti, main—"
Pal bhar na doori sahein aap se
Betaabiyan yeh kuch aur hain
Hum door hoke bhi paas hain
Nazdeekiyan yeh kuch aur hain
Dekha hazaro dafaa aapko
Phir beqarari kaisi hai
Sambhale sambhalta nahi ye dil
Kuch pyar mein baat aisi hai
They kept dancing, swaying gently when suddenly..
The first raindrop fell.
Then another.
Then suddenly, the sky opened up.
"Oh no—" Mishti started to pull away, to run for cover.
But Abhimanyu held firm. "Nahi. Please. Ruko."
"Abhi, bheeg jayenge—"
"Toh bheegne do." he pulled her closer, so close she could feel his heartbeat against her own. "Please. Bas... bas abhi mat jao."
The rain came down harder, soaking through her kurta, his shirt, plastering their hair to their faces. The fairy lights glowed hazily through the downpour.
Abhimanyu's hand came up, cupping her face with infinite gentleness. His thumb traced her cheekbone, wiping away what could have been rain, could have been tears.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his forehead coming to rest against her temple. "I'm so, so sorry, Mishti. For everything. For 5 years ago, for now, for every moment I hurt you."
Mishti's hands didn't know where to rest, she was shocked by this soft kind Abhi.
"I'm sorry," he repeated into her hair, his voice breaking. "Main tumhe phir se hurt nahi karunga. I promise. I swear. Please... please mujhe ek chance do. Ek aur chance."
"Abhi—" Her voice was muffled against his chest.
"Haan?"
She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Rain ran down both their faces. His eyes were red, vulnerable, completely open.
"What are you doing?," she whispered. "Hum aise..."
"Main jaanta hoon. Aur agar tum mujhe maaf nahi kar sakti, main... main samjh jaunga. Par Mishti..." His hands framed her face. "Par please, please ek chance do mujhe prove karne ka ki main ki main tumhare liye—"
"Ek chance," she whispered. "Sirf ek. Aur Abhi? Agar tumne phir se—"
"Nahi karunga. Never again. I promise." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Thank you. Thank you, Mishti."
Then she clearly her throat not expecting this from him, and he awkwardly withdrew his forehead, " Sorry... woh mai I got carried away."
" It's.. it's alright" she said forcing composure on her face.
" umm chale.. Pihu akeli hai ghar pe." she added.
From Pihu's bedroom window, Aaravi waited impatiently.
" yaar yeh dono itni der kyu laga rahe hai! Aaj kal log bhi na... khulle aam, ashiqui karlete."
" Jaane meri jaaneman.. Bachpan ka pyaar mera bhul nahi jaana re!" she sang on purpose..
She said to herself... sucking in her lips in a tch tch tch.. " Bichaara Akshay, yakeen hi nahi karenga. Ulta mujhe hi sunaadega."
" Kya Aaravi.. Faltu ka khayaali pulao pakaana band karo. Nahi toh kal 4 baje uthaakar aur padhai lunga. " she mocked his stern voice.
......................................................................................................
After Abhimanyu, walked her to her flat. Mishti closed her front door and leaned against it, her clothes still dripping rainwater onto the floor.
Her heart was hammering.
What just happened?
She touched her face where his hands had been, so gentle, so careful. Like she was something breakable. Something precious.
Abhi.
Abhimanyu Khanna. Her childhood enemy. The boy who put salt in her kheer . Who hid her textbooks before exams. Who called her "Mirchi" throughout her whole life.
That same boy had just...
A smile tugged at her lips.
The fairy lights, the photos, the mishti doi he'd made himself.
May I have this dance?
"Oh god," Mishti whispered to her empty living room, her hand over her mouth.
She was blushing.
Full-on, face-heating, teenage-girl blushing.
Over Abhimanyu.
"Nahi nahi nahi." She pushed off the door, pacing. "Yeh kya ho raha hai? Yeh... yeh woh irritating, annoying, insufferable... Ullu ka pattha.. Ghamandi... Obhodro —"
But her mind unhelpfully supplied: The way he looked at you. The way he held you. The way his voice cracked when he said sorry.
"CHIII!" Mishti made a face, literally shaking her head as if she could shake the thoughts out. "CHI CHI CHI! Kya soch rahi hoon main? Yeh ABHI hai! Abhimanyu! The same person who—who—"
Who remembered your favorite dessert. Who climbed a tree for you. Who kept all those photos.
"Stop it!" she told her brain firmly. "Bas. Just... friendship. Old friendship ko revive kar rahe hain. That's all. Bilkul bhi romantic nahi hai."
He asked you to dance. In the rain. While looking at you like that.
Mishti groaned, covering her burning face with both hands.
" Yeh... pakki kuch beemari hogi usse.. Ya mujhe...." she shugged.
From the bedroom, she heard: "Mumma? Aap aa gayi? Aap kiske saath baat kar rahi ho?" Pihu had woken up sleepily.
"K-kisi se nahi, baby!" Mishti called back, too quickly. "Bas... bas phone pe!"
She caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror, hair plastered to her head, clothes soaked, and wearing the most ridiculous smile.
"Get it together, Mishti," she muttered to her reflection. "He's just... he's just Abhi. Annoying Abhi. Irritating Abhi. Abhi who made you mishti doi and danced with you in the rain and CHIII!"
She marched to her bedroom to change, determinedly not thinking about the way his hands had felt on her waist.
Or the way he'd whispered "I'm sorry" into her hair.
Or the way her heart had absolutely stopped when he'd pulled her close.
"Definitely not thinking about it," she announced to no one. "Not at all."
But then, like ice water, reality crashed over her.
She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed, the smile slipping from her face.
What am I doing?
Her gaze drifted to the small photo frame on her nightstand, carefully placed face-down, as it always was. She never looked at it anymore
Mishti's hand unconsciously moved to the gold chain around her neck, hidden beneath her kurta. The one she couldn't bring herself to remove, even now. Even after everything.
You don't get to do this, a voice whispered in her head. You don't get to feel this way. Not again. Not ever.
She thought of Pihu, sleeping peacefully in the next room. Her baby. Her reason for everything. Her second chance at life when everything else had fallen apart.
Pihu deserves better than a mother who forgets. Who moves on. Who—
Abhimanyu's face flashed in her mind, those soft eyes, that broken apology, the gentleness in his touch.
And guilt, sharp and familiar, twisted in her chest.
No. Mishti stood up abruptly, peeling off her wet kurta with shaking hands. No. You can't do this. You already had your chance at this. You don't get another one.
Some people got happy endings. Some people got fairy lights and rain dances and second chances.
She wasn't one of them.
She changed into dry clothes mechanically, her mind building walls as quickly as her heart had tried to tear them down.
Friendship. That's all this could ever be. That's all she had right to.
Because she'd already stood at the mandap once. Already made those promises. Already—
Mishti's breath caught, and she pressed her palm against her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow.
He's gone, she reminded herself, like she did every night. And you... you don't get to just forget that. You don't get to feel butterflies over someone else like... like nothing happened. Like you didn't—
She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, wet hair, flushed cheeks, that ridiculous smile that had been there moments ago.
Widow, she thought, the word heavy and cold. You're a widow, Mishti. With a four-year-old daughter. This isn't your story anymore.
She crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, determinedly ignoring the warmth that still lingered in her chest from Abhimanyu's embrace.
Tomorrow, she'd go back to normal. Keep her distance. Remember who she was now. What she'd lost. What she could never have again.
Tonight though, just for tonight, she let herself remember what it felt like to be looked at like that.
Then she'd lock it away. Where it belonged. With all the other things she wasn't allowed to want anymore.
Across in his flat, Abhimanyu stood under his shower, letting cold water pour over his head.
What the hell did I just do?
He'd touched her face. He'd danced with her. He'd pressed his forehead to hers and whispered things that—
"Oh god." He turned the water colder. "Oh god oh god oh god."
This was Mishti.
Mishti "I-will-put-chili-powder-in-your-water-bottle-for-revenge" Banerjee.
Mishti who used to smack him, and steal his cricket bat and once pantsed him in front of the entire colony (he was eleven and wearing Doreamon underwear and he'd never lived it down).
And he'd just... he'd just...
May I have this dance?
"CHIII!" Abhimanyu actually said it out loud, scrubbing his face vigorously. "Kya kar raha hai tu, Abhi? Yeh kya filmi.. yeh kya romantic—NAHI!"
"It's just... it's just because I can see Pihu again," he told himself firmly. "Haan. Pihu. That's what this is about. Obviously."
You literally forgot about Pihu for the entire dance.
"Shut up," he told his brain.
You were thinking about Mishti. Only Mishti. The way she looked in the rain. The way she fit against you. The way her voice cracked when she said
"NAHI!" Abhimanyu turned off the shower, grabbing a towel. "Yeh... yeh sirf... we're just friends. Old friends. Reconnecting. That's ALL."
He caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. grinning like an absolute idiot.
"Stop that," he ordered his reflection. The reflection kept grinning.
"You're pathetic," he told himself. "Completely pathetic. She probably thinks you're crazy now. Dancing in the rain like some—some—"
She said yes. She gave you a chance. She held your hand.
Abhimanyu sat down on the edge of his bathtub, towel wrapped around his waist, head in his hands.
Then threw his phone on the bed and groaned into his towel.
"I can see Pihu again!" he said out loud, latching onto the safer emotion. "Haan! That's what I'm excited about! Pihu!"
Keep telling yourself that, bhai.
"I will!" he announced to his empty bathroom. "Because it's TRUE!"
------------
The main door clicked open at 6:47 PM, and Aaravi stumbled in with her tote bag threatening to spill notebooks everywhere, hair messier than it had been that morning, kajal slightly smudged under one eye.
"Akshay?" she called out, kicking off her juttis near the shoe rack and padding into the living room in her socks.
She frowned. It had been four entire days since she'd seen him properly at home. He'd come back at odd hours.. 2 AM, 4 AM, sometimes not at all and left before she woke up. She'd only known he had been home because of little signs: his uniform jacket draped over the dining chair, the smell of his cologne lingering in the hallway, a used coffee mug in the sink.
And the dabba.
Every single day, without fail, there was a dabba on the kitchen counter with her name on a Post-it. Always sabzi. Always something she hated but ate anyway because... well, because he made it.
She dropped her bag on the couch and headed to the kitchen, already resigned to finding another box of lauki or tori or some other tragic green vegetable.
Because Akshay was there.
Standing near the counter, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, hair slightly damp like he'd just showered, scrolling through his phone with a faintly distracted expression.
"Aap ghar pe hai?"
He looked up, and for a split second, something flickered across his face—relief? awkwardness?—before he pocketed his phone and nodded. "Haan."
"Haan?" She stared at him like he'd just announced he was quitting the police force. "Matlab... actually ghar pe? Ya abhi bhi aapka dimaag crime scene pe hai aur body yahaan khadi hai?"
His mouth twitched. "Body yahaan hai. Dimaag bhi... mostly."
"Mostly," she repeated, shaking her head as she walked closer. "Chaar din, Akshay. Chaar din. Main aapko bhool hi gayi thi. Kal subah mujhe laga tha ki maine ek imaginary husband bana liya hai jo sirf sabzi chhod ke chale jaata hai."
"Imaginary husband sabzi nahi chhod ta."
"Exactly my point!"
He exhaled through his nose laughing softly, and leaned back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. "Aapka college kaisa tha?"
"Terrible. Boring. Professor ne ek ghanta lecture diya aur mujhe neend aa gayi." She hoisted herself up to sit on the opposite counter, legs swinging. "Anyway, forget that. Aapne aaj kaunsi sabzi banayi hai? Dudhi? Tinda? Karela part two?"
Akshay's gaze slid away from hers.
"...Maine aaj sabzi nahi banayi."
Aaravi froze mid-swing.
"Kya?"
" Woh.. aapko pasand nahi hai na." he said softly panging hurt in his expression.
" Arrey Arrey... aise mat karo... mujhe pasand hai aapki sabzi. " she said softly.
" Dekho, I've spent my whole life being independent, taking care of myself, making my own decisions, and I never realized how lonely that was until you started doing these small things for me. " she continued.
She smiled at him continuing,
"The sabzi isn't just sabzi, Akshay. It's you telling me that even when you're drowning in work, even when you haven't slept, even when the world is demanding everything from you... you still remember me. You still make time. You still care whether I've eaten or not, whether I'm healthy or not. No one's ever done that for me before."
She gently took her hands in his hands.
" Sach mein... I'm so sorry that I hurt your feelings, if mai kabhi kabhi natak karti hoon khaane mein. You know na ki main kitni mazaaki hoon kabhi kabhi.." she said.
He chuckled, " Thodi mazaaki? Chill, mai mazaak kar raha tha. Sabzi toh aapko khaane hi padegi no option. "
"Maine... actually..." He rubbed the back of his neck, and his ears had gone slightly pink. "Main soch raha tha... agar aap free ho toh..."
"Toh?" she prompted, leaning forward, eyes wide with curiosity.
"...Mall chalein?"
Aaravi stared at him.
Akshay stared at the floor.
"Mall?" she repeated slowly, like she was testing the word.
"Haan."
"Matlab... bahar jaana? Aapke saath?"
"Haan."
"Aur... dinner bhi?"
"Haan." His jaw tightened slightly, like he was bracing for rejection. "Agar aap nahi chahti toh it's fine. Main bas—"
"AKSHAYYYY!"
The scream was so sudden, so loud, that he actually flinched.
And then she launched herself off the counter.
He barely had time to process what was happening before she crashed into him, arms flinging around his neck, face buried somewhere near his collarbone, the sheer momentum of her almost knocking him back a step.
"Haan haan haan haan!" she was saying, muffled against his shirt. "Mall! Dinner! Bahar! Haan!"
Akshay stood frozen, arms hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure where to put them. His brain had short-circuited somewhere around the moment she'd jumped.
She smelled like coconut oil and something floral, jasmine, and she was warm and her hair was tickling his chin.
Aaravi suddenly went stiff.
Then, just as quickly as she'd hugged him, she yanked herself back, stumbling a little, cheeks flaming red.
"Sorry! Sorry, I just—main bohot excited ho gayi—I didn't mean to—" She pressed her palms to her face, peeking at him through her fingers. "Aapko laga hoga main pagal hoon."
Akshay cleared his throat, trying very hard to look normal and failing miserably. His ears were definitely red now.
He raised an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. "Laga hoga? Aaravi, Pagal toh aap pehle din se hai. Pagal hona toh aapka default setting hai. Yeh toh normal Tuesday hai mere liye."
She lowered her hands slowly, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning too wide. "Toh... kab chalein?"
"Abhi ready ho jao. Twenty minutes?"
"Twenty?" She looked down at herself. Rumpled kurta, dupatta barely clinging to one shoulder. "Akshay, I need at least forty-five minutes!"
"Aaravi, mall ja rahe hain, shaadi nahi."
"Exactly! Mall hai! Main aisi nahi jaa sakti!" She gestured at herself dramatically. "Aap bhi fresh ho jao properly. Shirt change karo. Yeh wala achha nahi lag raha."
He glanced down at his white shirt, which looked perfectly fine. "Kya problem hai isme?"
"Boring hai. Kuch aur pehno."
"Aaravi—"
"Pleaseeee?"
She stared back, eyes wide and pleading.
"Fine. Forty-five minutes."
"Yesss!" She spun on her heel and practically skipped toward her room, calling over her shoulder, "Don't change your mind!"
"Main nahi—"
The door slammed shut.
Akshay stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the spot where she'd been, one hand still resting on the counter where she'd grabbed him.
He exhaled slowly.
What just happened?
His phone suddenly buzzed. It had been buzzing for the past few days, from his mom,brother, from Jeevika.
But he angrily, put it on silent.
Aaravi emerged from her room like she was walking onto a film set.
She'd changed into a soft lavender kurti, with delicate white embroidery along the neckline and sleeves, paired with straight-cut white pants. Her usual messy bun was in soft curled waves that framed her face. A small black bindi, silver jhumkas, and a thin silver bracelet completed the look.
She'd also fixed her kajal.
And applied lip gloss.
And sprayed a little extra perfume.
Akshay was waiting near the door, scrolling through his phone. He'd changed into a light pink fitted collar crisp, fitted just enough and dark jeans. His watch glinted under the hallway light, and he'd run a hand through his hair, which now looked deliberately casual instead of post-shower damp.
He looked up when he heard her footsteps.
Aaravi paused, suddenly self-conscious under his stare. "Kya? Zyada ho gaya?"
"Nahi." His voice came out lower than usual. "Aap... achhi lag rahi hai."
Her heart did a little flip. "Just achhi?"
A slow smile curved his lips. "Bohot achhi."
"Oh." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling despite herself. "Aap bhi... theek lag rahe ho."
"Theek?" He pushed off the doorframe, walking toward her with that confident stride. "Bas theek?"
"Main... I mean..." "Achhe. Achhe lag rahe ho."
"Bohot achhe?"
"Akshay!" She swatted his arm, laughing. "Stop fishing for compliments!"
"Main nahi, aapne shuru ki." He was standing close now, close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to look at him. "Maine toh honestly bola."
"Haan, well..." She straightened her dupatta unnecessarily. "Pink... pink aap pe suit karta hai."
He suddenly looked shy, staring down at the kitchen tiles rubbing his neck. " Actually woh.. Pink's my favourite color toh...you know.."
" AWWW.. Bahut acha lag rahe hai aap pe" she smiled.
"Yeah?" His eyes glinted with happiness at her praise. "Isliye aapne specifically bola tha change karne ko?"
Her cheeks flushed. "Maybe."
"Maybe," he repeated, smirking. "Mrs.Malhotra, planning my outfit. Didn't see that coming."
"Oh please, someone has to. Warna aap white shirt mein hi waiter jaise lagte hain.A apke liye ek black colour ka bow laau?" She gestured vaguely at him.
" Arrey! seriously? Handsome toh dikh raha tha main!" he gasped offended.
" Haan haan good aapne change karliya .. nahi toh sab aapko aise " oye... ek plate shaahi paneer laoge please?" karke pukaar dete." she added.
Suddenly, she made the mistake of looking, at how the pink fabric fit across his shoulders, how he'd rolled the sleeves just enough to show his forearms.
Akshay noticed.
"Aaravi? Eyes up here."
Her gaze snapped to his face. "I wasn't—!"
"Sure." His face almost matched the color of his shirt. "Chalen? Ya abhi aur dekhna hai?"
"Akshay!" She grabbed her purse and marched past him, face burning. "Chalo, let's go!"
His soft laugh followed her all the way to the door.
Aaravi climbed into the passenger seat, very aware of the enclosed space.
Akshay slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled out onto the main road with practiced ease.
"Toh," Aaravi said, breaking the silence, "suddenly mall jaane ka plan kyun?"
"Bas." He kept his eyes on the road. "Laga aapko change chahiye."
"Aww." She turned to him with exaggerated sweetness. "Aap mere baare mein soch rahe the?"
"Don't start."
"Kya? It's sweet! Big tough IPS officer, criminals se ladta hai, but makes time for his wife—"
"Aaravi."
"—takes her on dates—"
"It's not a date—"
"—pampers her with mall trips and dinner—"
He shot her a look. "Yeh sab band karo."
She grinned. "Kyun? Shy ho rahe ho?"
"Nahi."
"Toh phir problem kya hai?"
"Problem yeh hai ki aap kuch bhi bol deti ho." he said fondly.
She studied his profile, sharp jawline, focused eyes, that little smile playing at his lips.
"Waise," she said, voice turning playful, "chaar din missing the, barely ghar aaye... maine socha tha aapko meri yaad nahi aayi."
"Kaun bola?"
Her heart skipped. "Matlab... aayi thi?"
He was quiet for a beat before responding: "Haan."
"Haan?" She twisted in her seat to face him properly. "Akshay Malhotra admitting he missed me? Yeh record kar loon?"
"Aaravi—"
"Nahi, seriously! Pehle date pe le ja rahe ho, ab yeh confession—"
"Main confession nahi kar raha—"
"Totally kar rahe ho." She was beaming now. "Admit it. Aapko meri yaad aayi. Raat ko jeep mein baithe hue socha honge, 'Haye, Aaravi kya kar rahi hogi, sabzi kha rahi hogi—'"
"Main exactly yeh nahi soch raha tha."
"Toh kya soch rahe the?"
He glanced at her briefly, then back to the road.
"...aapne khana khaya ki nahi."
Her teasing smile softened into something genuine. "Aww, Akshay—"
"Aur," he continued, voice dry, "kitni bakwas kar rahi hogi apne friends ko."
"Hey!"
He smirked. "Aur—"
"Nahi, bas! Main sun nahi rahi!" She crossed her arms in mock offense.
"—college mein time pe pahunchi ki nahi."
Despite herself, she smiled. "Aap bohot zyada care karte ho, pata hai?"
"Haan, well." He shifted gears smoothly. "Duty hai."
"Duty?" She gaped at him. "That's what you're calling this?"
"Haan."
"Akshay, normal husbands don't call caring for their wife a duty—"
"Main normal husband thodi hoon."
She opened her mouth. Then, with a mischievous glint: "Haan, normal husbands toh apni wife ke saath actually time spend karte hain. Jeep mein nahi sote."
His jaw tightened slightly. "Case tha."
"I know." Her voice softened. "Main bas... aapko miss kiya. That's all."
Then his hand moved just slightly, closer to where hers rested on the seat.
"Maine bhi," he said quietly, eyes still on the road.
For a moment, she just looked at him this guarded man who fought criminals and carried trauma and still made her sabzi every morning.
Her pinky finger stretched out hooked around his, his finger curled back, holding hers.
They drove like that for three full minutes, just pinkies linked.
Then traffic forced him to shift gears, and the moment broke.
But Aaravi was smiling.
"Waise," she said after a beat, "agar yeh date nahi hai, toh phir kya hai?"
"...Outing."
"Romantic outing?"
"Aaravi."
"Answer do!"
He sighed. "Aap kabhi nahi rukhogi?"
" Nahi!" she giggled.
Phoenix mall was buzzing with the usual evening crowd, couples, families, teenagers loitering near the food court. The AC was a welcome relief from Mumbai's humidity.
Aaravi was mid-sentence, talking animatedly about something Meera had said in college, when Akshay suddenly steered her toward the left corridor.
"Haan toh phir usne bola ki— wait, idhar kyun ja rahe ho?" She blinked as he guided her past a clothing store, a cosmetics shop, and then—
He stopped in front of a jewelry store.
Zaveri & Sons gleamed in elegant gold lettering above the entrance. The display windows showcased intricate necklaces, bangles, and rings under soft lighting.
Aaravi froze.
"Akshay... yeh..."
"Chalo." He placed a hand on the small of her back, gently nudging her forward.
"Nahi, wait—" She turned to face him, eyes wide. "Jewelry store? Akshay, we don't need to—"
"I know."
"Toh phir—"
"Just come inside na." His voice was calm.
She opened her mouth to protest again, but he was already walking in, and the staff had noticed them.
"Good evening, sir, madam!" A saleswoman in a crisp saree approached with a professional smile. "Looking for something specific today?"
Akshay didn't hesitate. "Ji haan.. Please show aapka collection of Mangalsutras."
Aaravi's head whipped toward him. "What?"
He didn't look at her. "Mangalsutra dikhao please?. Something simple but elegant. Diamond work."
"Of course, sir." The woman gestured toward a plush seating area. "Please, have a seat. I'll bring our collection."
"Akshay—" Aaravi grabbed his arm as they sat down. "Kya kar rahe ho?"
"Buying you a mangalsutra." He said.
"But... I don't need—"
"I know aapne nahi manga." His gaze finally met hers, and something in his expression made her breath catch. "But I want to."
"Akshay..."
Before she could finish, the saleswoman returned with a velvet-lined tray holding at least a dozen mangalsutras.
"Here we are! These are our latest designs. All 18-karat gold with certified diamonds."
Aaravi stared at the tray, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.
Akshay leaned forward, studying each piece with the same focus he probably gave case files. His fingers hovered over a few, dismissing some immediately, lingering on others.
"Yeh wala," he said quietly, pointing.
The saleswoman carefully lifted it from the tray.
And Aaravi's breath caught.
It was stunning.
The mangalsutra was a perfect blend of traditional and contemporary, a delicate gold chain. The centerpiece was a circular pendant, about the size of a fifty-rupee coin, crafted in blackened gold with an intricate lattice pattern.
Tiny, brilliant-cut diamonds were embedded within the lattice work. The stones sparkled like captured starlight, each one small enough to be subtle but collectively creating something breathtaking. The blackened gold made the diamonds look even more luminous, like stars against a night sky.
On either side of the pendant hung two smaller gold beads, classic vati, but these too had delicate diamond work: a single stone set in the center of each, winking with every movement.
The entire piece was maybe six inches long, designed to rest just at the hollow of the throat.
"Sir has excellent taste," the saleswoman said warmly. "This is one of our signature pieces. The lattice work is inspired by Mughal architecture, jaali design. And the diamonds are VS clarity, ethically sourced."
Akshay wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at Aaravi.
"Aapko pasand hai?" he asked quietly.
She couldn't speak for a moment, still staring at the mangalsutra in the woman's hands.
"It's... it's beautiful," she finally managed. "But Akshay, yeh bohot expensive hoga—"
"That's not what I asked." His voice was gentle but firm. "I asked if you like it."
"I... haan. I love it. But—"
"Then that's all that matters."
"Akshay, listen—" She lowered her voice, leaning closer. "You don't have to do this. Main... I never expected anything like this."
Something flickered across his face. He was quiet for a long moment, jaw working like he was trying to find the right words.
Then he sat back, exhaling slowly.
"Growing up," he began, voice low enough that only she could hear, "maine apni maa ko dekha hai. Dadi ko. Chachis, buas. All of them... drowned in gold. Necklaces, bangles, rings, —everything. Itna sab ki sometimes it looked more like armor than jewelry."
He paused, fingers drumming once against his knee.
"Mere family mein," he continued, "jewelry status symbol hai. Power ka sign. Wealth ka display. Maa ke paas itne sets hain ki unhone half toh life mein pehne hi nahi. But unke paas hona chahiye, kyunki 'Malhotra bahu' hain."
"Maine hamesha yeh dekha hai," he said. "Aur hamesha socha tha ki jab main shaadi karunga..." He trailed off, then looked at her directly. "I wanted it to be different."
"Different how?"
"Meaningful." He gestured vaguely. "Not just... stuff. Not just because 'hona chahiye.' But because it actually means something."
"Aaravi." He shifted to face her fully now. "Humaari shaadi... normal nahi thi. I know that. You know that. And in all of this chaos... maine aapko kuch nahi diya."
"Akshay, you don't have to—"
"Please. Let me finish." He ran a hand through his hair, and she realized his ears were turning pink again. "Aapne... aapne kabhi kuch nahi manga. Not once. No demands, no expectations. Sabzi khaa leti ho jo main banata hoon even though I know aapko nahi pasand. Uthti ho jab main kehta hoon. Chaar din main gayab raha, not a single complaint. Main literally aapki life mein disaster ki tarah aaya, aur aapne—"
His voice cracked slightly.
He cleared his throat.
"Aapne adjust kiya. Sabkuch. And I..." He looked down at the mangalsutra, still resting on the velvet tray. "I want to give you this. Not because society says you should wear it. Not because my family expects it. But because I... I want you to have something that says you're not alone in this."
Aaravi's eyes were burning.
"It's a choice," he added quickly, looking at her again. "Aapki choice. Agar aap nahi pehenna chahti, it's completely fine. I won't force you. Main toh bas... I just want to buy it for you. Even if it stays in a drawer. I want you to have it. From me."
The store seemed to have gone quiet around them.
Or maybe she just couldn't hear anything over the pounding of her heart.
"You..." She swallowed hard. "You really mean that?"
"Haan."
"Aur agar main abhi nahi pehen na chahoon?"
"Then don't." His gaze didn't waver. "Jab ready ho, tab. Ya kabhi nahi bhi. But it'll be yours."
She looked at this man who cooked her vegetables she hated, who worked himself to exhaustion, who'd married her to save her and somehow ended up caring.
"Pehnao," she whispered.
He blinked. "Kya?"
"Pehnao," she repeated, a little stronger now. "Right now. I want to wear it."
Something in his expression softened completely.
"Are you sure?"
"Haan." She smiled, eyes bright. "I'm sure."
He exhaled, and she could've sworn his hands were slightly unsteady as he took the mangalsutra from the saleswoman.
"Turn around," he said quietly.
Aaravi shifted on the seat, presenting her back to him, sweeping her hair over one shoulder.
She felt him move closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him behind her.
The cool metal of the chain touched her neck.
His fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he brought the two ends of the chain around, and she shivered involuntarily.
"Cold?" he murmured, voice low and close to her ear.
"Nahi," she whispered back.
He was working on the clasp, a delicate hook that required precision. His knuckles grazed her skin once, twice.
She bit her lip.
"Almost done," he said, voice even lower now.
The clasp clicked into place.
But he didn't move away.
Instead, his fingers lingered at the back of her neck, adjusting the chain so it sat perfectly. The pendant rested just at the hollow of her throat, the diamonds catching the light.
"There," he murmured.
The saleswoman cleared her throat delicately. "Shall I pack the box, sir?"
"Haan," Akshay said smoothly, still watching Aaravi's flushed face with entirely too much satisfaction. "And bill kar do."
"Certainly, sir."
As the woman walked away, Aaravi touched the mangalsutra at her throat , the metal was warm now, heated by her skin.
"It's beautiful," she said softly, fingers tracing the delicate lattice work.
"You're beautiful," he said, so casually it took her a second to process.
Her head snapped up. "What?"
"The mangalsutra," he corrected, his ears turning red. "Looks beautiful. On you."
He stood up, offering her his hand. "Chalo, bill pay kar doon?"
She took his hand, letting him pull her up.
Akshay had paid, she'd tried to see the bill but he'd smoothly blocked her view, and the mangalsutra was now around her neck, the pendant catching light every time she moved.
Soon enough they were walking inside a bookstore, in the mall.
"Akshay, sun rahe ho?" She turned, holding up a book.
"Haan, haan. Something about enemies to lovers."
"It's a classic trope! And this author—" She launched into an explanation.
He smiled, nodded at appropriate intervals, and waited until she was sufficiently distracted by the shelf.
Then he slipped away.
He'd stopped walking.
"Akshay? Kya hua?" She called back toward him.
" Arrey just... restroom jaa raha hoon" he said.
Soon enough he walked back into the jewelry store.
The younger saleswoman had approached. "Back again, sir? Did madam want something else?"
"Nahi." He'd cleared his throat. "Actually, main kuch dekhna chahta hoon. For myself."
Her eyebrows had raised slightly. "For yourself, sir?"
"Haan." He'd felt oddly self-conscious saying it. "Do you have... mangalsutra bracelet designs? But for men?"
Understanding had dawned on her face, followed by a warm smile. "Ah! We do have some pieces. Give me one moment."
She'd returned with a smaller tray.
Akshay had scanned the options and immediately known which one he wanted.
The base was a thick, dark oxidized silver chain. But woven into the links were thin threads of blackened gold, the exact same shade as Aaravi's pendant.
At the center of the bracelet was a single rectangular plate, maybe an inch long and half an inch wide. It was crafted from the same blackened gold, with the same intricate jaali lattice pattern as her mangalsutra pendant.
And embedded in the lattice: three small diamonds.
It was the perfect counterpart, clearly connected to her piece, but distinctly his own.
"This one," he'd said.
The saleswoman had smiled knowingly. "It's a beautiful choice, sir. We don't get many men who understand the significance of equal symbols."
He'd paused at that. "What do you mean?"
"Your wife is very lucky, sir."
He'd accepted the package, slipping it into a plain bag.
"I'm the lucky one," he'd muttered.
Soon after he joined Aaravi at the bookstore.
"Arrey.. aagaye aap? Kitni der lagadi," she said, looking up from a book she was flipping through.
"Oh... woh... main... sorry," he said sheepishly, the small jewelry box burning a hole in his pocket.
"Koi baat nahi, hagane gaye the kya?" she said, voice carrying way too loudly across the quiet bookstore.
Suddenly, several heads turned, an elderly woman gasped softly a teenager snickered.
Akshay's eyes widened in horror. "Aaravi! Language!"
"Kya?" She blinked innocently, completely oblivious to the stares. "Maine kya kaha?"
"Aap —" He grabbed her elbow and steered her toward a quieter corner, voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Aap chilla ke pooch rahi ho main bathroom gaya ki nahi?!"
"Haan toh? It's a natural bodily function, Akshay. Sharma kyun rahe ho?"
"Main nahi—" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Aaravi, yeh public.. Hum public mein hai.."
"Toh? Public places mein log washroom nahi jaate?"
"Jaate hain, par woh aise PSA ki tarah announce nahi karte!"
She tilted her head, considering this. "Hmm. Fair point." Then, louder, for the benefit of anyone still listening: "Toh hagane nahi gaye the?"
"Aaravi!"
"What?! ". "Normal question hai. Pet kharab tha kya? You were gone for like ten minutes—"
"Aaravi, lower your voice—"
" Arrey tension mat lo... biwi hoon aapki.. Ghar jaake ache se aapko erendel ka tel khilaati hoon" she said.
Akshay looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. His ears were bright red, and he was doing that thing where he rubbed the back of his neck when he was flustered.
She burst out laughing. "Oh my God, tumhari face! I wish maine photo kheechi hoti!"
"Aaravi, I swear—"
"Kya? Kya karoge?" She grinned up at him, eyes dancing with mischief. "Arrest karoge mujhe? 'Ma'am, you're under arrest for embarrassing your husband in public'?"
Despite himself and despite the stares, his lips twitched, a laugh threatening to burst.
"Don't tempt me."
"Ooh, kinky." she grinned.
"Aaravi!" Now his whole face was red.
"Oh my God, you're too easy! Ek compliment de do, aur Akshay Malhotra goes full chilla tamaatar mode—"
"Main chilla tamaatar mode mein nahi hoon—"
"You totally are." She reached up and pinched his very red ear. "Dekho! Proof!"
He caught her wrist gently, giving her a look that was half exasperation, half amusement.
"Aap bohot bol rahi ho."
"Aur aap inte cute se blush kar rahe ho."
"I'm not—"
"Are too."
"Aaravi."
"Akshay," she mimicked his serious tone, then broke into giggles.
He shook his head, fighting a smile. "Chalo yahan se. Before you embarrass me further."
"Arre, maine kya kiya? I just asked if you were pooping—"
"Oh my God." He actually put his hand over her mouth.
Her eyes went wide, then absolutely sparkled with mischief.
She licked his palm.
"AARAVI! Chiii!! Gandi!" He yanked his hand back, staring at it in betrayed shock.
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