“Why do you look like you’re about to give a speech?” Dhruv stands there, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled in that unfair way that makes him look effortlessly put together. He watches me with mild amusement, one eyebrow raised.
“I wasn’t,” I say quickly. “I was just—thinking.”
He smiles. “Dangerous pastime.”
I roll my eyes. “Says the man who overthinks silently.”
He steps closer, leaning against the shelf beside me. “What were you thinking about?”
I hesitate. Then decide not to overthink this. “Meher bhabhi-sa called,” I say. “There’s a charity event this weekend.”
He nods. “Yes.”
I blink. “You… know?”
“I received the invitation yesterday.”
“Oh,” I say, a little deflated. “You didn’t tell me.”
He shrugs. “You have been very busy.”
I narrow my eyes. “You say that like I’m not always busy.”
He chuckles and I huff, then take a breath. “Devraj bhai-sa will be there.”
His expression softens instantly as if he knows what direction I am heading.
I look down at my sketchbook. “Are you going?”
He studies me for a second. “Do you want to?”
“It obviously depends on your schedule—”
He cuts me off as he steps closer to me, placing a finger on my lips. I hate how my breath hitches at our closeness. He looks at me expectantly.
“I want to see Bhai-sa” I finally say, correcting myself. “And… I think it would be nice. You know. To make a public appearance together.
He doesn’t answer immediately. My nerves spike. Then he smiles.
“Sitara,” he says softly, “could I ever deny you anything?”
My heart does a very embarrassing little flip.
I look up at him. “So… that’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes,” he confirms. “A very enthusiastic yes.”
I exhale, relieved. “Good.”
He tilts his head. “You sound nervous.”
“I am,” I admit. “What if I mess up? Say something stupid? Spill something on someone important?”
He chuckles. “You spill things on me all the time.” I smile at the memory of our first meeting.
“That’s different,” I argue. “You’re… you.”
“And you’re my wife,” he says simply. “No one’s going to eat you alive.”
