Bhargav's POV
I got up, still dazed, and walked back to the canteen. The contrast between the cool breeze outside and the thick, masala-filled air of the canteen hit me like a wave. Students were still eating, arguing over chutney, and talking about some intern who's apparently dating a manager. But I didn't care.
I passed by a couple of juniors whispering, probably about me.
Someone asked, "Is he really dating someone now?"
I just smiled.
Didn't even look their way.
Because right now, the only thing that mattered was this stupid smile stuck on my face and the way my chest felt like it was flying.
And the thought that, maybe one day…
She will say it again.
I slid back into my seat, trying hard—really hard—to look normal.
Cool. Composed. Unbothered.
But my fucking face had other plans.
I could feel the grin still stretching my cheeks like it had a mind of its own, refusing to die down. My jaw twitched with the effort to clamp it in, but my dimples betrayed me—those bastards always did.
Adithya squinted at me from across the table, mid-chew, a piece of paneer hanging from his spoon. "Why the hell are you glowing like a just-watered houseplant?"
I rolled my eyes. "It's the sun, man. I stepped out. Took a call."
He tilted his head, looking outside. "Bro... it's cloudy. You look like you just came back from confessing your love under a rainbow."
I cursed under my breath.
Shit. Busted.
Rajesh leaned over, his grin practically touching his ears. "You were smiling at your phone like a high school girl writing her crush's name in a notebook. We saw you from here, Romeo."
"I was not smiling," I protested.
"You were practically beaming," Ankita added, leaning back, arms crossed with that teasing glint in her eyes.
"So," Nikita cut in, her spoon hovering in the air, "who is it, Bhargav?"
"No one," I muttered, shifting in my seat.
"Liar," Rajesh sing-songed. "You got that stupid happy look. Is it someone from college?"
"It's just a friend," I said quickly.
Adithya raised a brow. "Girl or boy?"
I groaned. "Mind your business."
Ankita smirked. "The more you deflect, the more obvious it becomes."
Nikita chimed in, her voice lilting, "If it's 'just a friend', then why are you blushing like a bride on her wedding night?"
"I'm not blushing," I snapped, stabbing my already-suffering biryani again. "It's just hot."
Adithya leaned in with a sly smile. "It's cloudy, remember?"
I glared at him.
Rajesh took a dramatic breath, then yelled loud enough for half the canteen to hear, "Bhargav's in love again!"
"Rajesh, I swear to god—" I started, but it was too late.
Heads turned. Conversations paused. Even someone from the next table let out a knowing ooooh.
Fuck.
I covered my face with both hands. "Can we please just eat?"
"Not until you spill," Adithya insisted, tapping his spoon like a judge in court. "Who is it? What did she say? Did she call you 'baby' yet?"
"She didn't say anything like that," I muttered.
Rajesh grinned. "Then why the goofy smile, huh?"
I couldn't help it. The smile returned on its own, warm and uncontrollable.
"Goddamn it," I whispered, half to myself. I grabbed my water bottle and took a long swig to cool down the lava bubbling under my skin. My ears were definitely red.
Nikita nudged Ankita and muttered something. They both chuckled and gave me identical "ohhh, you're off the market?" kind of looks.
I shrugged. "It's not serious. Not what you think."
Ankita leaned closer, teasing. "So you do like her."
I hesitated.
That was the moment the silence fell.
I didn't deny it.
I just looked down and quietly resumed eating, the half-cooked biryani suddenly tasting way better than before. Even if the rice was a little crunchy and the masala uneven, it didn't matter.
My stomach was full of butterflies anyway.
Adithya pointed a spoon at me. "Just so you know, you're introducing her to us."
"Or else?" I challenged, holding a chicken bone in my hand.
"Or I'll—"
I cut him off. "I'll shove this up your ass."
He blinked. Everyone laughed.
"Damn, okay okay! You're back to your violent self."
"Always am."
The teasing died down a little as they turned back to their food, still throwing occasional side glances.
But I wasn't paying attention to them anymore.
Across the canteen, I caught Varsha's eyes on me. Again.
Her brows were knitted. Her gaze uncertain. Like she was trying to decode something in my expression. I held her stare for exactly one second before looking away.
I didn't care.
I didn't fucking care.
Not about her curiosity.
Not about Nikita's pouting.
Not about Ankita's questioning glances.
Because all that mattered right now…
…was the echo of her voice in my ears, "I'll cook you delicious food after our marriage," followed by that stuttered, flustered, nervous "No no! I meant, after—after everything's sorted—"
And that was enough to make my heart feel like it was doing backflips in my chest.
I bit down a laugh, my lips twitching again.
Yeah, let them talk.
Let them guess.
All I knew was—
I was smiling.
And for once, I didn't hate it.
Siri's POV
Fuck.
FUCK.
I was frozen. Standing like a damn idiot in the middle of my office cubicle, phone still in my hand, screen gone dark—but my brain? Screaming on max volume.
Did I just say "after our marriage"?
Oh my fucking god. I did.
What the hell is wrong with me?
My cheeks were on fire. Literal fucking fire. If I touched my face right now, I'd burn my own hand off. I wasn't even sure if I was breathing.
And if I was? It wasn't air. It was straight-up panic.
I gripped my phone tighter and cursed under my breath. "You absolute dumbass, Siri. You monumental fucking dumbass."
I wanted to smash my head into my desk.
Repeatedly.
I turned away from my screen and silently screamed into my palm, eyes wide as if the walls would suddenly turn into judging coworkers.
No one around seemed to notice. Keerthi was half-asleep with her headphones in, and Michael was too busy pretending to work while watching reels on mute.
Good. Because I was having a full-blown internal meltdown.
Marriage?
Marriage, Siri?
You couldn't have said later, or someday, or in the future, or literally anything else?
But no. My stupid ass just had to drop a full-ass "after our marriage" like it was normal office-hour flirting.
And to make it worse—he heard it. Loud. Clear. Fucking crisp.
And what did he do?
Oh, just asked me to say it again.
I dropped into my chair like a sack of shame, burying my face in my arms. "Nope. No. Nuh-uh. We are not acknowledging this. This is not happening."
But it did happen.
I said it.
And then I panicked like a little bitch and cut the call.
Because of course I did.
I could still feel it—that low pause in his voice when he said, "Say it again."
God. Why is his voice like that?
I groaned and slammed my head softly into the table. "You're not supposed to like it, idiot," I whispered to myself. "You're supposed to laugh it off or change the topic or flirt back like a normal human being."
But no. I went full blushing, panicking, phone-cutting, flustered disaster.
A tiny part of me was curious—what if I'd said it again?
Would he have smiled? Would he have joked? Would he have—
Nope. Shut up. I hate myself.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath again.
My face was still hot. My fingers were shaking slightly. I kept replaying it in my head like a cursed scene on repeat. The way my voice cracked. The way he paused. The way I wanted to crawl under my desk and never be perceived again.
I peeked at my phone, half-hoping he'd text.
Nothing.
And somehow that made it worse.
I turned to my monitor, trying to focus. The words were a blur. My brain was goo. I was one Siri.exe error away from exploding.
All because I let one stupid, honest sentence slip through my lips like a damn fairytale confession.
"After our marriage," I whispered to myself again, this time with a deadpan stare.
Kill me.
Just kill me.
But somewhere in the mess of nerves and heat and chaos...
I was still smiling.
Like a total idiot.
Goddammit.
To be continued...