From Arjun's POV
The city had slipped into a deeper hush by the time they rode back, as if even the night itself had decided to rest. The stars above scattered like diamonds across a swath of midnight blue, and the streetlamps, spaced unevenly along the lane, spilled pools of amber light that glistened softly on the damp asphalt.
Arjun rode slower now, savoring the cool breeze that whispered through the sleeping neighborhood. The hum of the engine was the only sound breaking the stillness, mingling with the faint rustle of neem trees lining the road.
Behind him, Shruti sat with her cheek resting lightly against his shoulder, her arms circled around his waist. It wasn't tight—just enough to anchor herself to him, to the moment. Every so often, he could feel the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing, warm even through the layers of fabric.
Neither had spoken since they left the eat street. But it wasn't the kind of silence that begged to be filled. It was the kind that wrapped around them like a shared blanket, gentle and full.
After a long stretch of quiet, Shruti's voice broke through the night, soft and hesitant. "Arjun?"
He glanced at her briefly in the rearview mirror, careful to keep his eyes on the road. "Hmm?"
She hesitated, her fingers brushing lightly over the seam of his jacket. "Can we... go to a few temples together this Saturday?"
Arjun blinked, a bit caught off guard by the unexpected request. "Temples?"
"Yeah." Her voice was quieter now, thoughtful. "I... like going. I used to go alone sometimes in Hyderabad. Just sit there for a while. It feels peaceful. Like... everything slows down, you know?"
He smiled, amused by this soft, secret piece of her she'd shared. "I wouldn't have guessed. You don't strike me as the temple-going type."
Shruti lifted her head slightly, a small pout forming on her lips even though he couldn't see it clearly in the dark. "Why not?"
"I don't know." He grinned, pulling into their lane, slowing further as they neared their house. "I thought you'd prefer cafes or bookstores. Or maybe late-night food stalls like tonight."
She rested her cheek against him again, the smile in her voice unmistakable. "I like those too. But temples... they feel different. Like I can breathe better there."
Arjun's grin softened into something gentler. He eased the bike to a stop just inside their gate, cutting the engine. The sudden quiet felt even deeper without the steady purr of the bike beneath them.
He turned slightly toward her, their faces now close enough that he could make out the softness of her expression in the dim light. "Okay. Saturday it is. We'll go wherever you want."
Shruti blinked at him, touched by how easily he agreed. "Really? You don't mind?"
He shrugged lightly, his voice playful but sincere. "I'll mind only if you ask me to sing bhajans at full volume in public. Otherwise, I'm game."
She laughed, the sound light and free, her breath warm against the night air. "Deal. No bhajans. Maybe just a few quiet prayers."
As they climbed off the bike, Shruti glanced up at the starry sky, then at him, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the streetlamp. "Thank you, Arjun."
"For what?" he asked, leaning the bike onto its stand, curious.
"For tonight. For this ride. For saying yes to the temples. For being... nice."
He looked at her for a long moment, a lopsided smile spreading across his face. "Don't get used to it. I have a reputation for being grumpy, you know."
She smirked, tugging the helmet off and handing it back to him. "Maybe I'll ruin that reputation."
He took the helmet, their fingers brushing briefly, sending a tiny jolt up his arm. "Maybe you already are."
And as they stepped quietly inside, the night seemed to hum with the promise of more moments like this—soft, unexpected, and quietly precious.
When they stepped inside the house, the corridor light flickered once, then steadied, casting long, stretching shadows that danced across the walls like quiet witnesses to their return. The air inside was still, thick with the deep hush that only settles after midnight. Their footsteps were soft, careful against the cool tiles as they moved down the hall toward their room.
Inside, the soft blue of the nightlamp bathed the small space in a gentle, dreamy glow. The bedsheet had a slight crease from the morning, the pillows a little out of place — signs of a day that had been anything but ordinary.
Arjun stretched his arms overhead, letting out a low yawn as he sat on the edge of the bed. "We should sleep," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's way later than I planned. And we're going to be zombies tomorrow."
Shruti lingered at the door for a moment, her fingers playing absently with the edge of her dupatta. She bit her lower lip before asking, softly, "Are you going to sleep on the edge again?"
Arjun blinked, caught completely off guard. "Uh… yeah? I mean—unless you want the edge. I don't mind."
She stepped forward, her bare feet making no sound on the floor. "That's not what I meant," she said quietly, glancing up at him, her voice hesitant but steady. "You don't have to keep distance. Not anymore."
Arjun stared at her, heart giving an unexpected lurch. Her eyes shone uncertainly beneath the blue light, brows knitted ever so slightly. She was nervous—he could see that—but beneath it was something more tender, something fragile and sincere.
"Shruti…" he began, his voice low.
She hurried on, like she needed to get the words out before her courage failed her. "Yesterday… when we slept on the couch, I felt better when you were close. It didn't feel lonely. It felt…" She hesitated, then finished, "safe."
For a beat, neither spoke. The clock ticked somewhere behind them, the seconds stretching out like threads pulling them closer.
Finally, he softened, his face warming with a gentle smile. "You're sure?"
She nodded, swallowing. "I want to stay like that again. If it's okay."
He shifted back on the bed, patting the space beside him. "It's okay."
As she climbed in, she paused again. He caught the hint of pink in her cheeks despite the dim light. "I promise not to steal the blanket this time," she teased, a small, shy grin tugging at her lips.
Arjun chuckled, the sound low and fond. "Oh, is that what happened last night? Here I was thinking I froze to death on my own."
She giggled, the tension between them easing just a little. "Maybe. I'm not confessing fully."
He mock-sighed, lying down and lifting the blanket for her. "Dangerous woman. Already tricking your husband."
She slid beside him, lying on her side at first, but hesitated. He opened his arms, just slightly — an invitation.
"Come here," he said, voice softer now, almost a murmur.
Her breath caught. Then slowly, nervously, she rested her head against his chest. For a moment, her body was stiff, unsure, but as his arm curled gently around her back and his hand began stroking through her hair, she relaxed, exhaling a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
"I like this," she whispered, eyes fluttering closed.
"Me too," he said, his chin resting lightly on her head. "Though if you steal the blanket tonight, I'm filing for divorce in the morning."
She let out a soft, sleepy laugh, swatting his chest playfully. "Stop it. You'll wake up Dad with your nonsense."
"True," he whispered, his hand slowing in her hair. "And then we'll both be lectured about being responsible adults."
She smiled against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. "Let's just stay like this a little longer," she murmured, the words feather-light.
"Forever sounds good too," he said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out unguarded.
There was a pause.
Then, softly, she whispered back, "Maybe."
And in that quiet, the world outside seemed to fall away — leaving only them, the ticking clock, and the warmth knitting them closer with every shared breath.
To be continued...