“Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath, hiding my face behind my palms.
Abhimaan looks like someone just short-circuited his brain. “Uh… ask you what exactly?”
Rudrani rolls her eyes likehe’sthe five-year-old here. “If you want to marry my Bua, you have to talk to me first. Like officially.” She leans forward a little. “And you have to promise not to make her cry. Ever. Or I will tell Papa. And he willdefinitelykill you.”
My body is vibrating with laughter that I’m struggling to contain. I don’t know if I want the ground to swallow me or just turn invisible for a second. My five-year-old niece is threatening a grown-ass man to take care of me. A once-in-a-lifetime sight.
Abhimaan raises both hands in surrender, still looking at her like she’s delivering a TED talk. “Okay. Wow. That’s… fair. I… absolutely don’t want to make her cry. Ever.” He says it softly—so softly I barely catch it. But Ido. And it kind of knocks the air out of me a little.
I clear my throat, cheeks burning, heart now tap-dancing in my chest.
“Rudrani,” I finally manage, “come back here; we’re done planning my life now.”
But she ignores me entirely, hands still on her hips. “And also,” she adds with great authority, “you have to give her more holidays. I miss her; you don’t get to keep her always.” She scolds, “And Bua likes reading. So give her lots of books. And she likes those white flowers.Notroses.”
“Daisies,” Abhimaan says without missing a beat, his eyes flicking to me.
I freeze.
He remembers. The evening a few weeks ago when he had bought me another one of the ‘all the flowers in the shop’bouquets, I told him I love daisies so he stops spending all his money on flowers.
Now, he looks away quickly, scratching the back of his neck, suddenly very focused on something invisible in the distance. “Right. Daisies.”
Rudrani nods, satisfied. “Okay. Now you can think about marrying her.”
“Oh,canhe?” I finally speak up, voice sharp with embarrassment and badly hidden laughter. “How very generous of you, madam.”
She turns to me with a beatific smile. “You’re welcome.”
And then, with all the grace of royalty, she skips back to me like nothing just happened. As if she didn’t just suggestmarriagein the middle of a sunny afternoon, with Simba as witness and Abhimaan still sitting there like someone stole the ground from under him.
She plops beside me again, picks up a leaf, and starts folding it like a little boat.
My hands are still trembling slightly. Not because I’m scared. Not even because I’m embarrassed anymore.
But because of something about the way he looked at me when she said those words… like the idea didn’t scare him. Like it wasn’t absurd. Like it wasn’t out of the question.
I sneak a glance at him. He’s still staring at his laptop, but his fingers aren’t moving.
And he’s smiling.
Just a little.
I exhale and pat Rudrani’s head gently. She leans into me without a word.
I don't know what this is between me and him.
But I know this: I’ve never wanted anything slow and quiet and complicated as much as I want what I have with him; I want him, and I love him. I have no doubts about it.
CHAPTER 48
ADITI
The wind is cool against my skin as I push open the terrace door and step out into the night. It creaks, just slightly, and I wince instinctively—like I’ve been caught sneaking out past curfew.
Which, technically, Iam.
I glance around. Empty, of course. Everyone’s asleep. Still, I tiptoe the first few steps out, my chappals making soft flapping sounds against the concrete floor. I slip them off and carry them in my hand like I used to in college hostels. God, this is ridiculous. I’m twenty-four. An adult. I shouldn’t feel like I’m breaking the rules in my own damn house.
