I follow behind him, still smiling. The moment he steps into the kitchen he stops. The smell must reach him then. “It smells wonderful,” he says quietly.
My heart does something strange in my chest. I try not to show how much that sentence means to me.
He lifts the lid off the pot and peers inside before grabbing a bowl and serving himself. We move to the dining table without saying much.
I sit across from him. He twirls the fork through the noodles and lifts the first bite.
I watch him closely. Too closely.
He takes the bite. For a moment he says nothing.
Then he closes his eyes briefly and inhales. “This is definitely beyond seven, baby.”
The word lands in the air like something fragile. Both of us freeze. His eyes open immediately. Mine are still fixed on his face. “Um,” he says, swallowing quickly. “I—” He looks genuinely flustered now. “I didn’t mean—”
The word baby seems to linger between us. I let out a small laugh. “It’s okay.” But the truth is I’m not entirely sure it is. Because something in my chest warmed when he said it.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
He clears his throat and takes another bite of noodles, clearly trying to recover. “They’re really good,” he says carefully this time.
“Thank you.” I try to sound casual. Inside my heart is still doing strange things.
“So,” I say after a moment, needing to shift the conversation before we both combust from embarrassment, “what kept you so late?”
He sighs.
“There was an issue with the release tomorrow. Something wrong with the final print files.”
“That sounds stressful.”
“It was.”
He takes another bite and leans back slightly in his chair. “We had to stay until everything was fixed.”
I hum quietly, listening. Then he looks at me. “How was your day?”
I tell him about the shop, about a customer who couldn’t decide between two scents and ended up buying both, about Neel arguing passionately about sleep timings before giving up.
Nothing particularly exciting. But he listens like it matters. When he finishes eating, he pushes the bowl aside and stands.
I start to get up too, assuming he’s done. Instead he pauses beside my chair. His expression is softer now. Almost hesitant.He leans down slowly. For a moment his face hovers just above mine. Then he presses a gentle kiss against my forehead.
The contact is warm.
Light.
But it sends a rush of heat straight through my chest. My breath catches before I can stop it.
“Thank you, Divya,” he whispers softly.
The words brush against my skin along with the warmth of his breath. My fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the table.
He pulls back a second later.
But the warmth from that small kiss lingers long after he steps away.
13. RIDES AND A FEW ALMOSTS
