At the Farmhouse Cottage
"Tara winced, pushing Vikram's hands away.**
'Ouch! Vikram! Who dries hair this fast? You'll break all my strands. Do it gently, or I'll do it myself!'
Vikram chuckled. 'You were so drenched, Tara. You recreated every possible Bollywood rain scene.'
He raised a brow. 'Don't pout now.'
'What? You don't like it when I pout?' Tara tilted her head.
Vikram tried to hide a smile. 'Just… go change.'
'Change into what? Where are my clothes?' she asked, looking around.
Vikram opened the cupboard.
Tara's eyes widened. 'Oh my God, even here—it's full of your white shirts, formals, casuals… But why so many?'
'I used to stay here sometimes,' Vikram explained. 'When I had office the next morning, I'd leave straight from here.'
Tara rummaged through the cupboard. 'There's not a single female outfit in here.'
'Well,' Vikram smiled faintly, 'I'll keep some for you now. Earlier, I used to come alone. Until then… maybe try something of mine.'
'Everything's oversized! Nothing will fit me.'
'Do you have another option, Tara? If not, then manage with mine. I'll change and check on the soup.'
He slipped into fresh clothes and left for the kitchen.
Tara stood staring at the pile of shirts. What do I even wear? After some hesitation, she finally made her choice.
When she walked into the hall, Vikram was struggling in the open kitchen. He turned—and froze. His thoughts whispered, "Tara, you're setting my soul on fire… and why do I hear background saxophone music suddenly?"
'Nothing fit me,' Tara admitted shyly, 'so I wore your white shirt. Even this is loose.'
Vikram stepped closer, eyes soft. 'Loose or not—it suits you perfectly.' He began folding the sleeves for her, then gently lifted her onto the kitchen shelf. His gaze lingered.
'Why are you staring at me like that?' Tara asked nervously.
'How am I staring?' Vikram whispered, before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.
'And… what was that for?'
'No reason. Just felt like it.'
Trying to distract herself, Tara asked, 'So… is the soup ready?'
Vikram scratched his head. 'Almost. I only know how to make coffee. But how hard can it be to boil some vegetables?'
'So basically, tonight I have to eat boiled vegetables?' Tara teased.
'At least try it first.'
He served her a bowl. Tara sipped hesitantly. 'Vikram, there's no salt, no chilies, no garlic—nothing! This is literally boiled vegetables!'
'Fine,' she laughed, 'give me five minutes. I'll fix this.'
But as she leaned forward to adjust the taste, Vikram slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.
'Vikram!' she gasped, blushing. 'Don't do this.'
'And why not?' he murmured. 'There are no cameras in this kitchen…'
'Stay away.'
'Stay away?' Vikram chuckled softly against her ear. 'Do you really think I will?'
'Please, not right now…'
'Relax. I'm only hugging you.'
Tara sighed in defeat. 'Fine. Soup is ready. Let's just enjoy it.'
They shared the soup, laughing at his cooking attempts, before Tara finally yawned. 'I'm going to sleep.'
'Yes,' Vikram nodded. 'Let's sleep.'
'Only sleep,' she reminded.
Vikram smiled. 'Alright, only sleep.' Then, playfully, he scooped her up—not bridal style, but in his own teasing way.
'Vikram! Put me down!'
'At least look at me, Tara.'
'No.'
'Are you angry? Fine, maybe you don't like it. I'll put you down.' He gently set her back on her feet.
But Tara grinned mischievously. 'I haven't even explored this cottage yet!' She darted away.
'Tara!' Vikram called after her. 'Don't open any windows or gates—it's night! And don't run, you'll fall!'
'Then catch me if you can!' she teased.
'And if I do catch you?'
'Well… you'll have to, first!'
The cottage echoed with her laughter and sound of her anklets as she ran from room to room, Vikram chasing behind, half-scolding, half-smiling. Finally, he caught her, pulling her close.
'Enough! Now I'll have to lock you in the room—you keep running away.'
'Noo, I was having fun!'
'I'm exhausted,' he sighed. 'First you made me run in the garden, and now here.'
He carried her into the room and sat her on the bed. 'Stay put. This cottage isn't used much, it's not safe to run around.' He locked the door.
'Vikram, I can open it.'
'Not when I'm here.' His voice was firm but tender. 'Quiet now.'
After that..
They lay down, face-to-face.
'You used to come here with your mom, right?' Tara asked softly.
'Yes,' Vikram's tone gentled. 'My best memories are here. On holidays, we'd spend time together. She loved when I put flowers in her hair. I told you before—that's why I noticed you when you tucked that flower in your hair. You reminded me of her.'
'So… if I hadn't worn that flower, you wouldn't have noticed me?' Tara teased.
'Of course I would. You were so noisy, no one could ignore you,' he smirked.
Tara grinned, eyes sparkling. 'I like hearing things like this from you.'
'And I like saying them to you,' Vikram murmured, pulling a yellow rose from his pocket. 'I plucked this for you. Can I put it in your hair?'
'My hair's open… it won't stay. Give it to me, I'll wear it tomorrow morning.'
'Then I'll pluck a new one tomorrow.'
'No, I want this one now,' she insisted, reaching for it.
But Vikram mischievously kept it out of reach until she leaned so close, she ended up almost on top of him. His arm slid around her waist.
'Tara, you've come too close,' he teased.
'So what? Give me the flower!'
Instead, Vikram flipped her gently onto the side, holding her there, and finally gave her the rose.
'Thank you, Mr. Suryavanshi,' she whispered with a smile.
Their eyes met. Close enough to feel each other's breaths, Vikram leaned in and kissed her. The white sheet slid over them, hiding the world.
---
Thirty minutes later.
Tara rested her head on his chest. 'Do Dadaji and Dadiji know we're here?'
'Yes. The watchman must've informed them. He always does.'
'And when we used to fight before… you'd come here, right?'
'Yes,' Vikram admitted quietly. 'Whenever I was hurt… I came here. On New Year's Eve, when we went to that party—I wanted to wish you first, to kiss you. But Prithvi hugged you before I could. I was so angry… I left. I cried here that night, Tara. Not just because of Prithvi—but because I had hurt you too, left marks on your wrist… I hated myself for it. I kissed your photo on my phone and whispered "Happy New Year" alone.'
Tara's eyes softened. 'Wait… you had my photo?'
'Not one. An entire folder full of your pictures,' Vikram confessed, handing her his phone.
Her jaw dropped. 'Oh my God… so many! These are from so long ago. How?'
'When I realized what I felt for you… I wanted to see you. But you didn't come to the mansion every day. And when you did, I was usually stuck at office. So I started taking these… secretly.'
Tara blinked. 'And I never noticed?'
'I wonder too, how you didn't notice that I was falling this hard for you,' Vikram said softly.
'I don't know… it still feels unbelievable.'
'That's because you're an idiot.'
Tara smacked his shoulder. 'Ouch! That hurts!'
'Good. It should,' she smirked, turning away. 'I'll sleep on the other side of the bed. And don't you dare come close.'
'Come on, Tara, I was joking.'
'I didn't like it.'
'Fine,' he sighed. 'You're not the idiot, I am. You're smart, I'm the fool.'
She peeked at him with a smile. 'That's better.'
'But for the record—you're not just smart, Tara. You're cute. Very, very cute., getting close to her '
'Mr. Suryavanshi, stop kissing my neck!' she yelped.
'That's me saying thank you.'
'Excuses!' she laughed.
'Don't stop me, or I'll start tickling you instead,' he warned.
'See? I knew it! You're impossible.'
Finally, Tara murmured, 'Turn off the lights, Vikram. I'm sleepy.'
'One last kiss? A good night kiss?'
'Fine. But only on the cheek.'
He kissed her forehead, then her cheek… then paused at her lips.
'Stop here,' Tara whispered with a smile.
'Let me complete the goodnight kiss,' he teased.
The lights went out. The world silenced—only their quiet breathing under the blanket. Vikram held her hand.
'Tomorrow,' he whispered, 'I'm taking a break. Just for you.'
Tara giggled softly. 'Just a break? Or something more?'
'For you, Tara… always more.'
---
Morning, 8 a.m.
Vikram kissed her hair, watching her sleep. When was the last time I woke up happy in this farmhouse? Probably when Mom was here. After she was gone, this place only saw my tears. But today… today I'm smiling again. Thank you, Mama. He remembering his dream that morning i thought its going to be end with tara soon but that was not my end that was just my beginning with Tara.
He hugged her tightly, eyes moist.
Tara stirred. 'Vikram? Did you sleep well? Why do you look so emotional?'
'I'm not emotional,' he smiled. 'I'm happy. Happy because of you. Thank you, Tara. I love you.'
'If you give me so much love, I'll get addicted to it.'
'Then get addicted,' he whispered.
'When are we going back home? I don't even have clothes. Should I wear your white shirts again?'
'Do we even need clothes?' Vikram teased, smirking.
'Mr. Suryavanshi!' she blushed, cheeks turning pink.
'Don't worry,' he laughed. 'I'll keep some of your clothes here too. Because now, I'm never coming here alone again.'
In his heart, another thought bloomed. And maybe one day… even a little one, just like in my dream, will be here with us.
'What are you thinking?' Tara asked curiously.
'Nothing. Just… maybe I should make soup again.'
'No!' Tara almost shouted. 'That soup will kill me. Even after all my effort, it still tasted like boiled vegetables!'
'Fine. I'll make coffee instead.'
'Yes, please. At least you're good at that.' Tara laughed, resting her head back down as he walked away.