His eyes widen like I just told him we’re planning a heist. “This is historic.”
“Please don’t announce it to the entire neighborhood.” He scoots forward on his knees until he’s right in front of me, looking up with a seriousness that is both impressive and slightly terrifying in a seven-year-old.
“Didi will cry.”
“That’s very likely.”
“And then she will hug you.”
“I hope so.”
“And then she will hug me because I helped.”
I blink. “You haven’t helped yet.”
Neel tilts his head like I’ve offended him deeply and pats my knees as if he's imparting some sagely advice, “I helped emotionally and I gave you my blessing, afterall she's my sister.”
I laugh under my breath and sit down on the floor across from him. The truth is I’ve been thinking about this moment for days. Ever since that night in my office when she cried because someone made her believe she was nothing more than a responsibility in my life.
The idea still makes my jaw tighten. Divya doesn’t realize what she did to my world. She walked into it carrying grief and responsibility and quiet strength and somehow rearranged everything inside my chest without asking permission. And I never actually asked her to marry me. Not properly. Not the way she deserves. The first time was survival. This time needs to be a choice. Neel studies my face carefully.
“You look nervous.”
“Of course I’m nervous.”
He nods thoughtfully. “That means it’s important.”
“It is.”
He leans closer. “Okay tell me the plan.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I already prepared most of it.”
That earns me immediate respect. “Oh.”
“I bought the ring two days ago.” Neel gasps like this is the most romantic thing that has ever happened in human history.
“You are very organized.”
“I try.”
“And the location?”
“The terrace.”
He nods approvingly. “That is dramatic.”
“Exactly.” I nod, even when I know it's not entirely dramatic, but something I feel Divya would like.
“And lights?”
“Already done.”
“Candles?”
“Yes.”
“Flowers?”
