Abhay smiled like he’d won the lottery.
***
A few minutes later, Siya walked out of the lobby glass doors and found him leaning against his grey Lexus. He’d picked a casual look in jeans and a maroon t-shirt. His sunglasses were tucked into the open V of his tee.
Her flats clicked softly on the concrete pavement, the wind lifting the hem of her peach sundress. He kept his gaze fixed on her until she came to stand in front of him.
‘You’re staring,’ she told him, though she was doing the same.
‘You’re making it easy,’ he said, his eyes bright with mischief. ‘Those legs should be illegal.’
‘Flattery is not going to make me forget the fact that you haven’t told me where we’re going.’
Abhay grinned, pulling open the passenger door with a bow. ‘Come with me and find out.’
Siya slid into the seat, stealing glances at him as he rounded the hood and slipped behind the wheel. When he placed his hand behind her seat as he rolled back out of his private parking lot, she felt a buzz of butterflies in her belly. She felt the absurd need to lightly trace the veins on his arm and had to distract herself.
‘Where are we going?’ she repeated as the city rolled past her window, the flurry of Mumbai refusing to slow even for a minute.
His attention stayed on the road, one hand resting lazily on the wheel. ‘Somewhere familiar.’
‘Abhay,’ she warned.
He glanced at her. ‘We're going to the place we ran away to the night of the New Year’s party.’
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until the road turned and she caught the glimmer of sea in the distance, as he parked down the narrowed lane that she hadn’t driven down in years.
Versova beach.
‘You could’ve just said the beach,’ she said, as they got out and moved together across the uneven path.
‘And ruin the surprise? No way,’ he said, brushing his shoulder with hers.
In the afternoon, the beach was near-empty for once, except for a few children chasing a dog.
‘I can’t believe you remember about this place,’ she said softly, as the wind lifted her curly hair.
‘I remember every moment of that night, jaan,’ he replied, tangling her hand with his.
A little boy ran up to them with a toothy grin and asked if they wanted to eatchaat, gesturing toward a small stall. ‘My papa makes the best pani puri,’ he announced proudly.
‘Then, we’ll have to try it,’ Siya told the boy, tousled his hair affectionately, and told him to lead the way.
The tang of tamarind and spice hit her nose, and her mouth watered as he placed one pani puri on her plate. She popped the first crisp, overflowing puri into her mouth. It burst with cold, sharp and spicy flavour, and she groaned with a smile.
‘This is insanely tasty, bhaiya,’ she told the vendor and turned back to Abhay. ‘I haven’t had this in years,’ she said, wiping at the corner of her mouth.
‘I can imagine,’ Abhay said, offering her his handkerchief. ‘You forget to do things for herself.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You don’t take enough rest, you skip meals, and you still use the same chipped mug even though you have a collectionof better options. You don’t do things for yourself,’ he said, repeating it to hammer his point home.
It unsettled her how much he silently noticed about her.
‘Let’s sit,’ she said, trying to distract from the topic, and with a chuckle, he let her.
They carried extra chaat to a spot closer to the waves, and sat down on the beach. Her toes curled into the warm sand, and she let out a sigh of relief as she rolled her shoulders. With every passing minute, the knot of tension was melting out of her.
