25-07-2025, 01:25 AM
Tuesday Afternoon – Scooty Ride
The clock on Abhi’s screen blinked 1:48.
He closed his laptop, pushed back from his desk, and grabbed the keys to the rented scooty downstairs.
He wasn’t sure why he was smiling.
Maybe because the ride was just ten minutes.
Maybe because it suddenly felt like the most important ten minutes of his day.
By the time he reached the front gate, Varnika was already waiting, arms crossed, legs casual, her sling bag hanging from one shoulder.
She wasn’t in a hurry.
She was glowing in the kind of soft beige that somehow made the afternoon light part around her.
“You’re two minutes early,” she said, walking toward him, eyebrow raised.
“Is that to compensate for the extra bumps you’re planning to hit?”
Abhi smirked, starting the scooty. “I don’t do that anymore. I’m a changed man.”
She laughed and swung onto the seat behind him.
No hesitation. No slow settling.
Just one smooth motion, her arms wrapping around his waist like they never stopped doing that.
“Mmm.” She rested closer than usual. “So no potholes this time?”
“Zero,” he said. “Clean, professional ride.”
“Good.” Her breath brushed the back of his neck.
“Because this time I’m already hugging you. You don’t need stunts to make that happen.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed. The warm, involuntary kind. “Noted.”
She leaned in just a little more. “Also, if you avoid the chai stall dip, I won’t bite your shoulder in public.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Don’t tempt me. I skipped lunch.”
The scooty picked up speed as they turned onto the main road.
The air was cool from the morning rain, and the road glistened faintly under the sun. Abhi didn’t speak — he didn’t need to.
She was right there, her arms relaxed but sure, her presence unshaken.
After a minute, she spoke again — lower, almost thoughtful but still light.
“You know… I don’t think I missed the rides.”
He glanced at the mirror. She was watching him through her lashes, smiling faintly.
“I think I missed the excuse to hold on to you in broad daylight.”
Abhi’s chest went still for just a second. Then he smiled — quietly, fully.
“Next time,” he said, “you don’t need an excuse.”
“Good,” she murmured. “Because I’m not letting go until the parking lot.”
The clock on Abhi’s screen blinked 1:48.
He closed his laptop, pushed back from his desk, and grabbed the keys to the rented scooty downstairs.
He wasn’t sure why he was smiling.
Maybe because the ride was just ten minutes.
Maybe because it suddenly felt like the most important ten minutes of his day.
By the time he reached the front gate, Varnika was already waiting, arms crossed, legs casual, her sling bag hanging from one shoulder.
She wasn’t in a hurry.
She was glowing in the kind of soft beige that somehow made the afternoon light part around her.
“You’re two minutes early,” she said, walking toward him, eyebrow raised.
“Is that to compensate for the extra bumps you’re planning to hit?”
Abhi smirked, starting the scooty. “I don’t do that anymore. I’m a changed man.”
She laughed and swung onto the seat behind him.
No hesitation. No slow settling.
Just one smooth motion, her arms wrapping around his waist like they never stopped doing that.
“Mmm.” She rested closer than usual. “So no potholes this time?”
“Zero,” he said. “Clean, professional ride.”
“Good.” Her breath brushed the back of his neck.
“Because this time I’m already hugging you. You don’t need stunts to make that happen.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed. The warm, involuntary kind. “Noted.”
She leaned in just a little more. “Also, if you avoid the chai stall dip, I won’t bite your shoulder in public.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Don’t tempt me. I skipped lunch.”
The scooty picked up speed as they turned onto the main road.
The air was cool from the morning rain, and the road glistened faintly under the sun. Abhi didn’t speak — he didn’t need to.
She was right there, her arms relaxed but sure, her presence unshaken.
After a minute, she spoke again — lower, almost thoughtful but still light.
“You know… I don’t think I missed the rides.”
He glanced at the mirror. She was watching him through her lashes, smiling faintly.
“I think I missed the excuse to hold on to you in broad daylight.”
Abhi’s chest went still for just a second. Then he smiled — quietly, fully.
“Next time,” he said, “you don’t need an excuse.”
“Good,” she murmured. “Because I’m not letting go until the parking lot.”
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