18-06-2025, 02:41 AM
On the dining table, bowls were already arranged—simple food, but carefully prepared.
The kind of meal someone made not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
Meghana was near the table, her back to him as she adjusted a bowl.
Her peach cotton kurti moved with the breeze from the balcony, clinging momentarily to the curves of her lower back before loosening again.
She turned—and her gaze met his.
Soft. Steady. Familiar.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” she said, her voice low.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome,” he replied.
“You are,” she said.
Just that.
No smile, no attempt to soften the words.
But they were already soft.
Something passed between them.
Something Varnika noticed from the corner of her eye.
She didn’t comment—but she didn’t look away either.
“I’ll get the kheer,” Varnika said, vanishing into the kitchen.
Meghana turned to him again, quieter now. “Sit. You’ve had a long day.”
He obeyed, feeling strangely nervous.
Dinner began with small talk—how the rain would probably flood the side roads again, how Varnika had a university visit tomorrow, how Meghana had a few late meetings lined up.
But slowly, something warmer seeped into the space between them.
Every time Meghana reached across to serve something, Abhi felt her wrist graze his forearm just enough to notice.
When she poured him water, her fingers brushed his again—and lingered, like they remembered his pulse from Friday.
When he looked up at her face, he caught something—something unguarded.
The kind of meal someone made not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
Meghana was near the table, her back to him as she adjusted a bowl.
Her peach cotton kurti moved with the breeze from the balcony, clinging momentarily to the curves of her lower back before loosening again.
She turned—and her gaze met his.
Soft. Steady. Familiar.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” she said, her voice low.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome,” he replied.
“You are,” she said.
Just that.
No smile, no attempt to soften the words.
But they were already soft.
Something passed between them.
Something Varnika noticed from the corner of her eye.
She didn’t comment—but she didn’t look away either.
“I’ll get the kheer,” Varnika said, vanishing into the kitchen.
Meghana turned to him again, quieter now. “Sit. You’ve had a long day.”
He obeyed, feeling strangely nervous.
Dinner began with small talk—how the rain would probably flood the side roads again, how Varnika had a university visit tomorrow, how Meghana had a few late meetings lined up.
But slowly, something warmer seeped into the space between them.
Every time Meghana reached across to serve something, Abhi felt her wrist graze his forearm just enough to notice.
When she poured him water, her fingers brushed his again—and lingered, like they remembered his pulse from Friday.
When he looked up at her face, he caught something—something unguarded.
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