“I’ll never stop closing your eyes with my hand.”
“I can live with that,” she sniffled.
“I’ll never stop offering you my shoulder.”
“It’s…” she poked it. “Okayish.”
“I haven’t worked out in months,” he rolled his eyes, chagrined.
“What else?”
“I’ll never stop…”
She stole his next words with her kiss. And Nilay pulled her face even closer, kissing her with all the pent-up fear, rage, exhilaration, joy, hope inside him. Finally.Finally.Fuckingfinally.
“Now,” he pulled out and got down on one knee on the floor. Her eyes widened — “You can’t…”
He parted her knees to make space for him and stared into her hopeful brown eyes. “If you are done with your grovel, which, for the record, I had to dig out of you.”
She scowled.
“Am I it?”
That scowl broke into a smile, an honest-to-god beautiful, shy smile.
“You are far from perfect,” she croaked.
“But I am as close as they get.”
“I’ll make do.”
“Then,” he took her left hand in his, feeling her breath stall.
Nilay reached inside his pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened the BookMyShow app that he still didn’t know why he had but was grateful for in this moment. He tapped the PVR button and presented the screen to her — “Will you come?”
Her mouth dropped open. She let out an incredulous scoff, raising the phone to chuck at him.
“Marry me.”
Her body stilled.
“Nilay… we haven’t even talked about where we want to live…”
“Mumbai or New York?”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Simple question, Ritu — Mumbai or New York? Wherever you pick, we will settle.”
“If I say New York, then?”
“I will have to travel a week per month but I’ll manage.”
“And if I say Mumbai?”
“Are you really that dense or just act it?”
She whacked him with the nearest pillow. He was not deterred — “Here or there, Ritu?”
