The afternoon sun had mellowed into a soft, golden glow as Arjun guided the Thar smoothly through the city streets. The windows were rolled halfway down, letting in a mild breeze that ruffled Shruti's hair as she leaned back, full from lunch, hoping the day's surprises were over.
But then came that unexpected turn.
Her brows furrowed as familiar landmarks began to blur into unknown ones. "Arjun…" she began, glancing at him as he kept his gaze ahead, a quiet smirk playing at his lips. "Where are we going now? Don't tell me there's another mall. My feet will riot."
He chuckled, eyes glinting in the rearview mirror. "Nope. No more malls, I promise."
"Then?" she pressed, folding her arms, partly amused, partly wary.
"You'll see."
The Thar finally rolled into a clean, quiet parking lot. The building before them wasn't flashy like the mall or the restaurant—just a simple, modern structure with a large blue-and-white board overhead.
Shruti squinted and read it aloud, confusion written all over her face: "**** Bank?"
Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowed. "Wait. You're surprising me with… a bank? A bank?"
Arjun simply unbuckled his seatbelt, smirking wider now. "Come on."
"Arjun!" she called, exasperated, as he opened his door. "What could possibly be surprising about a bank?!"
He leaned down slightly, resting his arms on the open window frame, grinning. "You'll see. Just trust me?"
Still half groaning, half curious, she grabbed her purse and followed him inside.
The bank's interior was crisp and cool, the hum of AC blending with the quiet clicking of keyboards, the low murmur of conversations between customers and staff. It smelled faintly of fresh paper and coffee from some hidden break room.
Shruti watched as Arjun strode confidently to the customer service desk, greeted by a staff member who seemed to recognize him. Before she could blink, they were seated at a desk, papers slid in front of them, pens uncapped. Arjun filled out forms with practiced ease, chatting softly with the staff about documentation.
Shruti sat beside him, growing increasingly bored, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her dupatta. She glanced at her new phone resting in her lap, then at the digital clock on the wall. What in the world is this boy up to now?
And then it happened.
The staff member turned toward her with a kind smile. "Ma'am, could you sign here too? Your account will be activated by evening."
Shruti blinked. "Wait, what?"
Arjun didn't even pause, still signing where the staff pointed. "I'm opening a bank account for you."
She stared at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. "What?! Why? I don't even earn—"
"You don't need to." His voice was steady, kind but firm. "I'll deposit money into it. You can use it whenever, however. No questions, no permission needed."
Her lips parted in protest. "Arjun… I don't need this. I'm fine. Really."
He finally looked at her, his gaze warm but resolute. "I know. But I want you to have it, Shruti. For days I'm not around. When you go out with your friends. When you want to buy something without having to ask me, or feel guilty about it. I want you to have that freedom. That dignity."
Her heart squeezed at his words. She glanced down at the form in front of her, the blank signature line suddenly feeling heavier than any document she'd ever signed in her life.
"But… this is too much…" she said softly, voice almost lost in the quiet of the bank.
"No, Shruti," Arjun said gently. "It's just enough. It's what you deserve."
She hesitated. The staff waited patiently. Finally, with trembling fingers, she picked up the pen and signed.
Arjun's smile deepened, a softness in his eyes that made her look away before she melted entirely.
"And I've applied for a credit card for you too," he added offhandedly, as if mentioning he'd ordered chai.
Her head jerked up. "What? A credit card?"
He nodded, signing another set of forms. "Unlimited. Linked to this account. It'll be ready in a few days."
Shruti gawked at him, her voice rising in shock. "Unlimited?! Are you crazy? What would I even do with that?!"
He shrugged lightly, that mischievous glint returning. "Whatever you want. Use it for your needs. Or don't. It's there so you never have to feel stuck."
She shook her head, half in disbelief, half in admiration. "You're seriously trying to give me a heart attack."
He laughed, a rich, easy sound that made even the nearby staff smile. "Maybe. But I'd be there to take you to the hospital."
She groaned, covering her face with both hands. "Arjun!"
He chuckled and gently tugged her hands down. "I just want you to feel secure, Shruti. That's all."
Her eyes softened as she looked at him—this boy who'd entered her life as a stranger and was now building her a world where she didn't have to ask, didn't have to fear, didn't have to feel small.
As they left the bank, Shruti walked beside him, her heart full, her mind overwhelmed. And without thinking, she slipped her hand into his.
This time, she didn't care if he noticed.
And Arjun? He squeezed her hand gently, no teasing, no words—just that quiet promise in his touch that she wasn't alone.—
—
By the time they rolled into the driveway, the city was bathed in hues of molten gold and soft crimson. The sun dangled low on the horizon, casting long shadows of the Thar as Arjun parked it neatly. The air smelled of sea breeze and dust, the kind that signaled the end of a long, tiring day.
Shruti slumped back in her seat, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the logo on her new phone. Every inch of her body ached—from the hours of walking, from carrying bags, from signing papers, and most of all, from trying to keep up with him.
Arjun turned the key, silencing the engine. He glanced at her, noticing the dazed look on her face. "Still alive?"
"Barely," she groaned, prying herself out of the passenger seat. "My legs feel like jelly. If I die, let my ghost haunt your credit card."
He laughed, grabbing as many bags as he could in both hands. "If you die, I'll swipe it for charity in your name."
"Savage," she muttered, following him to the door.
The lock clicked, and they stumbled inside, the cool air of home wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Arjun dumped the mountain of bags near the entrance, stretching his arms high until his back popped.
Shruti collapsed onto the couch, flinging her dupatta somewhere behind her, not even caring where it landed. She sank into the cushions with a dramatic sigh. "That's it. No more surprises. No more shopping. No more banks. No more 'just trust me.' I'm done. Emotionally bankrupt."
Arjun grinned, leaning against the wall, hands on his hips. "Good. Because I ran out of ideas too."
Before either could say another word, they heard a car pull up. Moments later, the front door creaked open.
Arjun's dad walked in, briefcase in hand, already loosening his tie. His eyes landed on the bags—the mountain of them. His steps slowed, his brows arched higher and higher as his gaze shifted between the bags, Arjun, and Shruti.
"Where did you two go?" he asked, suspicion dripping from every word.
Shruti peeked up from the couch, too tired to even sit up straight. She offered a sheepish, tired smile. "Shopping."
He blinked, as though she'd just said they'd returned from Mars.
"Shopping?" he repeated, disbelief thick in his voice.
She nodded, a bit amused now. "Shopping."
Arjun silently cursed under his breath, knowing what was coming. His father's eyes narrowed, turning to him like a detective about to crack the case.
"You. You went shopping?" His voice rose half an octave. "Voluntarily?"
Shruti tilted her head, grinning despite herself. "Is that such a shock?"
His dad threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "Shock? Shock is an understatement! You have no idea, ma! This boy hates shopping. Hates it! Even during festivals, we'd have to drag him out of his room. Holidays? Forget it. He wouldn't leave the house unless it was for biryani or pizza. Food, games, and sleep—that was Arjun's life."
Shruti blinked. "Games? What games? I didn't see anything like that at home."
"No console, no gaming laptop, no fancy headphones…" she counted off on her fingers, genuinely puzzled.
His father grinned wickedly. "That's because he broke it all."
Shruti's eyes widened. "Broke it?! Why?"
Arjun groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Appa, please—"
But his dad was on a roll now, clearly enjoying himself. He set his briefcase down and leaned against the armrest of the sofa, as if settling in for storytime. "Right before your marriage, we had a massive fight. I told him, 'If you keep gaming like this, your future wife will leave you on the first day.' The next morning—poof! Gone. He'd smashed the console, the controllers, dumped it all in the trash. Like some drama hero."
Shruti turned to Arjun, jaw dropping. "Seriously?!"
Arjun's ears had turned a deep shade of red. "I did not smash it. I just… gave it away."
"To the garbage truck," his dad helpfully added, eyes twinkling.
Shruti burst into laughter, clutching her stomach, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Oh my God. I can't believe you. You destroyed your own gaming setup out of frustration?"
"I didn't destroy it—" Arjun tried to protest, but Shruti was already doubled over, giggling like a child.
"Appa!" Arjun groaned. "Stop giving her ideas. She'll make fun of me forever now."
His dad clapped him on the back, grinning. "Good. Let her. Someone needs to keep your ego in check."
Shruti wiped her eyes, still giggling, and turned to his dad. "Thank you for telling me, Dad. This is priceless."
His father's eyes softened at her calling him Dad, a warmth blooming in his chest. "Anytime, ma. There's plenty more where that came from."
Arjun threw his hands in the air, muttering, "I'm moving out."
"Where will you go?" Shruti teased, picking up a few of the smaller bags. "You spent all your money on me today."
"I'll live in the Thar," he said dramatically, grabbing the rest of the bags and heading for the stairs.
His dad chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Poor boy. The mighty Arjun… defeated by marriage."
Shruti giggled, her heart full. She followed Arjun up the stairs, feet sore, but soul light.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like she belonged. Not to a house. Not to a city. But to a family. To someone.
To him.
To be continued...
[Volume 1- Complete]
[Volume 2- Coming soon]