Suddenly, the bed shifted beneath him.
He turned his head slightly. Shruti moved, the rustle of her blanket loud in the otherwise silent room. She shifted onto her back, exhaling a soft sigh that spoke volumes — of sleeplessness, of restlessness, of thoughts that refused to quiet.
"Shruti?" Arjun whispered, his voice tentative, not wanting to startle her.
She stilled for a moment, then answered, her voice small and tired. "Hmm?"
"You're not asleep?"
"I can't sleep," she admitted, her tone a mixture of frustration and weariness.
Arjun pushed himself up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. The cool air of the night brushed against his skin, chasing away the last remnants of drowsiness. "Same here," he confessed, glancing at her.
Shruti lay with her eyes open, fixed on the ceiling as if hoping it might offer answers. The faint moonlight caught the curve of her cheek, the soft arch of her brows drawn together in thought.
After a few beats, they both sat up, almost in sync — as if their boredom and unease had woven an invisible thread between them. Arjun folded his legs, resting his elbows on his knees, while Shruti hugged her knees loosely, her frame small and delicate in the dim light. Her hair was mussed from lying down, a stray lock falling across her face. She brushed it aside absently.
They sat there like that, backs almost touching, breathing in the same heavy silence that filled the room.
Arjun tilted his head toward her, studying the way she traced invisible circles on her knee with her fingertip. "Are you bored?" he asked, voice soft, gentle, careful not to break the fragile peace.
Shruti nodded, her gaze distant. "Yeah. I think I slept too much in the afternoon. Now my mind won't shut up."
Arjun chuckled under his breath. "Tell me about it. I've been lying here counting fan blades and wondering if ghosts stare at us when we sleep."
That earned a soft laugh from Shruti. "Why would you say that at midnight?"
He grinned. "Just trying to make you less bored."
For a few moments, they both fell silent again. The kind of silence that's not heavy, but thoughtful — as if they were both on the edge of some unspoken idea.
Then Arjun glanced at her sideways. "You want to do something?"
Shruti hesitated. "Like what?"
He bit his lip, thinking. His mind raced through possibilities — games? Reading? Talking? Too awkward. Too forced.
And then, with a spark of mischief, he chuckled. "Wanna go out?"
Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide, half-shocked, half-intrigued. "Now? It's almost midnight!"
He shrugged, his grin widening. "So? Midnight's just another hour. The world looks cooler at this time. The city's quiet, the breeze is nice… and you said you're bored."
Shruti stared at him, caught between amusement and hesitation. "Are you serious?"
"As serious as I am about murdering Kiran for decorating our room with rose petals," he joked, leaning back on his hands.
She giggled despite herself, shaking her head. "I don't even have the energy to stop you if you drag me out."
Arjun's gaze softened. "I wouldn't drag you. Only if you want to."
Shruti chewed her lip thoughtfully, her heart beating faster at the idea. The reckless charm of it tempted her. The thought of stepping out into the cool night air with him felt like an adventure waiting to happen.
"…Okay," she said finally, surprising herself.
Arjun blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah. Let's go before I change my mind."
He laughed, standing and offering her his hand. "Let's make this boring night memorable, Shorty."
She rolled her eyes fondly but slipped her hand into his.
As they moved toward the balcony door, Shruti whispered under her breath, a small smile tugging at her lips, What are you doing to my heart, you lighthouse…
Shruti pulled the hoodie tighter around her, the sleeves slightly too long, brushing against her fingers as they crept down. She glanced at Arjun, who stood a little ahead, hands in his pockets, watching the empty lane like it was their personal runway.
"Where exactly are we going at this midnight hour? Is there any place open at this time?" she asked, her voice hushed, part curious, part cautious.
Arjun turned, his grin playful, eyes twinkling under the faint streetlight glow. "Yeah, and that's what makes it fun," he said, his tone light, mischievous. He tilted his head slightly toward her, his voice dropping like he was letting her in on a secret. "Vizag doesn't sleep this early. There's an eat street on Jail Road. It's open late. Good food, good breeze, barely any traffic. Trust me, it's perfect."
Shruti hugged her arms to herself, glancing toward the house. The thought thrilled and unnerved her all at once. "But… won't your dad hear us leave?"
Arjun gave a soft laugh. "Dad? He sleeps like a log once he's out. Earthquake, thunderstorm, apocalypse — he won't wake up. And anyway, we'll be quiet." He leaned closer, wiggling his eyebrows. "Come on. It'll be fun. A little midnight adventure. You'll thank me."
She stared at him, her brows drawn together in mock suspicion, lips parted slightly as she weighed her options. "You're trouble, you know that?"
He placed a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. "You wound me, Mrs. Arjun."
Shruti giggled, shaking her head. The nervous energy inside her gave way to excitement. "Okay," she whispered, a smile blooming on her lips. "Let's do something crazy."
Arjun grinned like a kid about to break all the rules on his first night of freedom.
They moved like shadows through the house, careful where they stepped, their breaths held whenever the floor creaked underfoot. Shruti grabbed her grey hoodie from the chair and slipped it on, the fabric soft and worn. Arjun threw on a black one, pushing his hair back absently.
They caught each other's eyes at the door, both struggling to contain their giddy laughter, like two school kids sneaking out past curfew.
Outside, the night greeted them with cool air heavy with the scent of damp earth, mingling with faint hints of frangipani and jasmine from the nearby gardens. The world felt different — softer, slower. The breeze lifted loose strands of Shruti's hair, brushing it across her cheek like a secret caress.
They walked together to the edge of the building, and there it stood.
A KTM Duke 390 — sleek, matte black, with fiery orange rims that gleamed under the streetlamp's golden halo.
Shruti stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, a small gasp escaping her lips. "This is your bike?"
Arjun gave a casual nod, like it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah."
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the fuel tank, feeling the cool metal under her touch. The bike felt powerful even standing still.
"It's… really cool. I didn't expect this from you," she admitted, glancing up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes.
Arjun arched a brow, amused. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean," she said, half-laughing, half-shy, "you're so quiet. I thought you'd have something like… I don't know, a normal commuter bike. This looks like something a rebel would own."
He grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Maybe I have a secret rebel side. You'll never know."
Shruti shook her head, laughing softly. "Unbelievable. You keep surprising me."
He handed her the helmet, watching as she adjusted it, the strap fumbling a little under her chin. Without thinking, Arjun reached forward, fingers brushing lightly against her skin as he secured it for her. Their eyes met briefly. The night felt even quieter in that moment.
"There," he said, his voice softer.
"Thanks," she mumbled, looking away to hide her flushed cheeks.
Arjun swung a leg over the bike, settling into the seat with practiced ease. The key turned, and the engine came alive with a low, throaty growl that echoed down the empty street.
Shruti climbed on behind him, tentative at first, her hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.
"Hold on tight," he said, glancing back with a grin.
She hesitated, then placed her hands gently around his waist, feeling the warmth of him even through the layers of fabric.
"Don't go too fast," she warned, her voice half-playful, half-serious.
Arjun laughed as he kicked up the stand. "You wound me again. I'm a very responsible rider, I'll have you know."
"Responsible?" she echoed, amused. "With this bike? At midnight?"
"Exactly. Midnight calls for charm, not speed," he quipped, revving the engine lightly.
As they glided off into the quiet streets, the city seemed to open just for them — streetlights like golden guardians, the night breeze carrying their laughter into the dark.
To be continued...