Siri's POV
His sobs had quieted to a soft rhythm, like the hush of waves retreating from the shore. I could feel his breath still trembling against me, his arms still wrapped around my waist, forehead leaning heavily against my belly like he didn't quite know how to let go.
I stayed still.
One hand cradled the back of his head, my fingers gently combing through his thick, damp hair, while the other rested on his shoulder, grounding him as he clung to me. The night around us pulsed with a silence that felt like it was holding its breath. Crickets hummed softly. A breeze brushed past us, lifting a few strands of my hair as if even the wind didn't want to disturb the moment.
Slowly—gradually—his breath began to even out.
His fingers, which had dug into my waist with quiet desperation, loosened just a little. I felt the shift in his body before I heard the tiny hitch in his breathing fade into a shaky exhale.
I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice to barely above a whisper. "Hey…"
He didn't respond immediately, but his grip softened more.
"Bhargav," I murmured again, with a little nudge of affection. "Let's get up?"
He gave a reluctant nod, as if the earth might disappear if he let go too soon. But eventually, he pulled back, his eyes still shimmering with tears under the dim yellow light from a nearby porch.
I reached for his hand instinctively, helping him to his feet. He stood slowly, like the weight of the moment had drained something deep inside him.
His eyes wouldn't meet mine yet.
I brushed my palms gently over his damp cheeks. "Your shirt's all wet," I said, trying to lighten the moment as I wiped the moisture from his face.
He gave a broken laugh, one that almost didn't sound like him. But it was real.
"I cried like a lunatic," he mumbled, voice thick.
"You cried like someone who's been carrying too much for too long," I replied softly, still cupping his face. "And it's okay. I'd rather see that than watch you act like nothing matters."
He blinked hard, then finally looked at me. "I didn't know hearing those words from you would… feel like that. Like something inside me broke and healed all at once."
I nodded, my own throat tightening. "I didn't know saying it would feel like I was handing you my heart and realizing you've had it for years."
His breath caught again, but I gently tugged at his arm and glanced toward the road. "We should go before your mom and Indu send out a search party and mine starts calling the police."
He let out a startled laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "They'd totally assume we eloped."
I smirked. "They probably already are. Amma must've checked the terrace at least twice by now."
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth curving upward, that familiar dimple forming like a crescent moon in the dark. "Well, if we did elope, you'd be dragging me by the collar while I cried, wouldn't you?"
I pretended to think. "Hmm. True. But only if you promised to cry prettily."
We started walking.
The road home wasn't long, but tonight, it felt like it stretched with quiet meaning.
We didn't speak at first. Just walked side by side, the space between us smaller than it had ever been.
After a few minutes, my fingers twitched by my side, aching to bridge the gap. I glanced at him once—his eyes were on the ground, a half-smile still tugging at his lips, lost in thought.
And then, slowly, I reached out.
My hand found his.
Not urgently. Not dramatically. Just… naturally.
Our fingers brushed.
And then curled.
And just like that, we were holding hands.
No words.
No explanations.
Just the hush of night air between us, and the quiet pulse of two people who had spent years running in circles finally walking in rhythm.
I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, half-expecting him to tease me or say something cocky.
But he didn't.
He only held my hand tighter—warm, steady, firm—like it meant the world.
Like I meant the world.
And he smiled.
Not the kind of smile that needed an audience. Not the one he wore to charm his way out of trouble. But a smile that belonged only to this moment, to me, to us.
We kept walking.
Not rushing. Not looking back.
The moon hung above us, pale and shy, as if it too was watching and rooting for something long overdue.
To be continued...