No explanation. No warning. And I imagine her eyebrows furrowing when she reads the message. I chuckle. Wow now I am predicting her facial expressions.
I stare at the screen for a second before slipping the phone into my pocket. The evening air is cooler up here than inside the house. The sun is already slipping down behind the buildings across the lane, painting the sky in those lazy streaks of orange that never last long enough.
The blanket is already spread across the floor. Two glasses. A container of pasta. Sandwiches wrapped in foil. Nothing dramatic. Just something that felt right while I was setting it up.
Neel isn’t home tonight. That, in itself, feels strange. The house is usually full of his noise—running footsteps, random questions, the occasional lecture about our life decisions.
Tonight it’s quiet.
I lean against the low terrace wall and look down at the street for a moment. A scooter passes by. Someone’s pressure cooker whistles in a nearby house.
Then the terrace door creaks open.
Divya steps in. She pauses immediately when she sees the blanket. Then her eyes land on me.
Her eyebrows pull together slightly. “What is this?”
I push myself off the wall and shrug, trying to look casual even though I’m suddenly very aware of the way she’s looking around.
“I thought we could sit up here for a bit.” She walks further onto the terrace, glancing between the blanket and the food. Her expression shifts slowly from confusion to something softer.
“You did all this just to sit on the terrace?”
“Apparently the terrace has been severely underutilized.”
She huffs out a small laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Possibly.” She kicks off her slippers before sitting down on the blanket. I sit beside her, leaving enough space between us that it feels polite but not awkward. “Besides we had to tick the next item on Neel’s list.”
She narrows her eyes, “you do realize the more you follow his lead the more he’s going to lead you.” I laugh.
“What’s the harm, he’s a cute kid.” Her eyes soften and she smiles gently.
“Thank you for being so…sweet with him.”
“You don’t have to thank me…it seems you two are impossible to not like.” I murmur gently, meaning every single word.
“I…” she looks away from me, staring at the sky ahead of us, “I feel the same about you, Aditya.” she whispers and I feel my heart skip a beat.
She feigns a cough, “hey, we are actually ticking two items of his ridiculous list,” she chuckles, “Sunset date too,” she points out at the sky and I chuckle.
“You finally agree it’s a date?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes but the redness of her cheeks say otherwise. She tries the pasta, gives a small approving nod, and takes another bite. “You’re annoyingly good at this cooking thing,” she says after a moment.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant to be one.” We don’t linger on the food for long. Eventually the plates are pushed aside and she stretches her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands.
The breeze catches a loose strand of her hair and pushes it across her cheek.
She looks up at the sky. “You know,” she says thoughtfully, “I rarely come up here.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I’m usually too busy.”
That answer lands heavier than it should. After a moment I lie back on the blanket and look up too. The sky is darker now, the first few stars beginning to show.
