After an hour of chasing each other and laughing, they collapsed onto a flat rock at the edge of the pool, catching their breath. The sun had shifted, warming the damp skin they hadn't bothered to dry yet. Aanya pulled out her phone from her pocket—it had been buzzing quietly—but she hadn't looked at it until now.
"Hmm… someone's persistent," she murmured, raising an eyebrow.
Sagnik peeked over her shoulder. "Persistent how?"
"Persistent enough to keep calling me," she said with a soft laugh. She swiped the screen and saw Aditi's name. Aanya answered.
"Hey, Aditi," she said, voice bright, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Finally!" Aditi's tone was half-relieved, half-scolding.
"I was wondering if you'd actually text back. Where are you? Are you safe?" Aanya chuckled, glancing at Sagnik. "We're fine. It's… a beautiful place. Don't worry. Just had to see it."
Sagnik smirked. "She's alive, I promise."
Aditi laughed, but her concern softened into curiosity. "I'm glad. Just don't get lost, okay? And… don't do anything stupid."
"We won't," Aanya said, her smile lingering. "Promise. We're just enjoying the day. Lunch next, then sunset."
"Good," Aditi replied. "Take care, both of you. And Aanya—have fun."
"Always," Aanya whispered, ending the call. She tucked the phone away, letting it rest against her side as Sagnik nudged her shoulder playfully.
"See? You can survive a call from the responsible one," he teased.
"Yeah, yeah," she replied, laughing, letting herself sink back into the warmth of the sun, the sound of water, and the easy presence of Sagnik beside her.
They spent a few minutes just sitting, until hunger nudged them toward action.
"So… lunch?" Sagnik asked, standing and brushing water from his jeans. "Where do you want to go?"
Aanya shrugged, scanning the road ahead. "Hmm… somewhere simple. Maybe that little riverside café on the highway? Or… we could just grab something from a local place near the village?"
"Local place?" Sagnik raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one where you promised we'd get the best fried bread ever?"
"That one," she confirmed, eyes sparkling. "You'll love it. Trust me."
He grinned. "Lead the way, then. I'm trusting my life to you anyway."
They gathered their things, shoes damp, clothes clinging, hair still streaked with sunlight and mist. As they walked back to the car, Aanya kept stealing glances at him—how his hair caught the light, how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how natural he looked in this world that wasn't theirs, not fully.
The drive to the village was filled with soft conversation and quiet teasing. They debated what to order, what would taste better, who had the better appetite, whether the fried bread would live up to Aanya's claim. Each glance, each laugh, each small brush of hands as she handed him the keys or he nudged her for the steering wheel carried weight without needing to be acknowledged.
By the time they parked outside the little eatery, the sun had begun its slow descent. The golden light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows over the road. They walked together, naturally close, nearly touching shoulders.
They sat at a small table outside, plates of food in front of them. Aanya fed him a piece of fried bread with teasing exaggeration, and he retaliated by flicking water from his bottle toward her. Laughter spilled easily, mingling with the scent of earth and the sound of the river nearby.
They lingered over the meal, neither rushing, both savoring not just the food but the presence of the other. The air between them carried something fragile and rare—playful touches, teasing smiles, comfortable silences that felt intimate.
Eventually, the sun dipped lower, brushing the horizon with gold and pink. Aanya rested her elbows on the table, watching the light glint off the river, and Sagnik reached out, lightly brushing a strand of hair from her face. For a moment, the world shrank to just them, the fading sunlight, and the warmth of closeness.
She leaned back slightly, letting the weight of the moment sink in. The laughter, the playful splashes, the stolen touches—it was almost too much in its perfection, and yet it was painfully fleeting. Somewhere at the edge of her mind, a quiet thought whispered: perfection like this doesn't last. Maybe it never had. Maybe it was all a dream she hadn't woken up from yet.
The ride back was quieter, softer. Instrumental music played low, blending with the fading sunlight streaming through the car windows. They didn't need words; their hands found each other occasionally, small touches that lingered longer than they should. The highway stretched golden and endless before them, the world feeling both infinite and fragile, alive and temporary—just like them. And somewhere, deep inside, Aanya felt the quiet, uninvited thought: perfection like this never lasts. Maybe it was already slipping away, like a dream she hadn't fully woken from yet.