She huffs, “I did exhaust you last night.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I smirk.
I lean down just enough for my voice to reach only her. “You did.” Her breath stutters. I feel it against my collarbone, warm and real.
We step out into the open air, sunlight spilling across the courtyard. She squints slightly, then relaxes, letting the warmth sink into her skin.
“I did want to come out,” she says softly. “Not to prove anything. Just… because I wanted to be with you. Not cooped up inside.”
I nod, understanding settling between us. “Then we’ll sit,” I say. “Out there, under the shade and we can have tea.”
“And?”
“And I’ll keep carrying you until you tell me to stop.”
She looks at me for a long moment, then smiles—slow, genuine, a little shy. “You’re really not worried about what anyone thinks, are you?”
I don’t hesitate. “Not even a little.”
Her head rests back against my shoulder, this time without apology.
And as I carry her forward, surrounded by stone and sky and quiet, I know one thing with absolute certainty—If the world wants an opinion, it can wait.
Right now, all that matters is her comfort, her trust, and the simple, grounding fact that she’s here. With me.
Conversations, Chaos, and Blushing
SITARA
Veeraj bhai-sa calls at the most Veeraj bhai-sa time possible.
Which is to say—without warning, without pleasantries, and with the emotional range of a stone wall that has decided to tolerate your existence.
My phone vibrates on the side table while I’m mid-sip of tea, curled comfortably on the couch with my legs tucked under me. Dhruv is across the room, pretending to read something important while very obviously listening to every sound I make. Yagini is sprawled on the rug at my feet, half-bored, half-plotting chaos as usual.
I glance at the screen and my lips curve automatically.
I answer before the second ring. “Hi, Bhai-sa,”
There’s a pause on the other end. Just long enough that I know he’s deciding whether to hang up. “You’re alive,” he says flatly.
I grin. “Missed you too.”
Another pause. I imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, already irritated by the fact that I exist in a cheerful mood.
“Are you eating properly?” he asks.
I blink. “Yes.”
“Sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“Annoying Dhruv enough?”
I glance instinctively toward Dhruv, who looks up at his name with an unreadable expression.
“Yes,” I say, voice innocent. “Daily.”
“Hm.”
