“Tia—”
“You actually like him.”
I clap a hand over her mouth before the words can echo too loudly in my own head. “Shut up,” I hiss, glancing around even though we’re alone. “Do you want me to combust?”
She pulls my hand away, eyes wide with mock horror. “You do! Youactuallylike him!”
I drop my face into my palms. “Please stop yelling truths.”
She laughs, delighted, like she’s just solved a mystery that’s been bothering her for years. “This is huge.”
I peek at her through my fingers. “Is it?”
“Yes,” she says firmly. “Because for the longest time, you acted like romance was a scam invented to sell books.”
“I still think that.” Don’t get me wrong, I love romance, I create art around it after all, but in real life, I think it’s dead. Or, at the very least, it’s dead for me.
She tilts her head. “And yet here you are. Married. Blushing. Defending him without realizing you’re doing it.”
I straighten. “I am not blushing.”
She raises an eyebrow.
I sigh. “Fine.”
She grins. “Tell me.”
“What?”
“About him.”
My heart does a small, traitorous flip.
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to talk about Dhruv—but because saying things out loud makes them real in a way I’m still adjusting to.
“He’s…” I begin, then stop. Restart. “He’s very kind.”
Tia’s expression shifts instantly into seriousness. She’s always been good at that—reading between lines, knowing when to joke and when to listen.
“He’s caring,” I continue softly. “Like… genuinely. Not performative. He remembers things. Small things. And he doesn’t make me feel like I have to earn space.”
She watches me closely.
“And,” I add, almost reluctantly, “he confessed his love to me.”
Her jaw drops.
“Hewhat?”
“I know,” I rush. “I was shocked, too. I didn’t see it coming at all, you know because...” I pause, shutting my mouthimmediately. She stares at me for a second, then her face darkens in a way that immediately makes me nervous.
“Because what?” she asks sharply. I blink. “Because what, Sitara?” she repeats. “Why were you shocked?”
I open my mouth. Close it.
“Because…” I trail off.
She leans forward, eyes blazing. “Because you think you’re unlovable?”
