The room felt warmer now—not because of the lingering heat of the day, but because of the quiet, shared energy between them. The scent of fresh fabric, cardboard, and that subtle lavender mingled with the faintest hint of Shruti's perfume and the soap Arjun had used that morning. It felt lived in, familiar… like the beginning of something.
Arjun crouched beside the half-open drawer, organizing hangers and folding a few of his own shirts that had somehow gotten mixed into Shruti's pile. His brows furrowed in concentration.
Shruti, still standing near the door with her arms folded, tilted her head and watched him. A smile played on her lips. "You broke the console?" she repeated, her tone somewhere between playful and mock-horrified. "Really?"
Arjun didn't look up, but his smirk was audible in his voice. "It was old. Outdated. Taking up space."
"Hmm." She tapped a finger against her folded arm, stepping closer. "So, let me get this straight—you throw things when you're angry?"
That made him glance up at her, the glint of mischief in his eyes. "Only useless things. And only once in a while."
Shruti arched a brow. "Uh-huh. I'll remember that next time I see you glaring at your water bottle or something."
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You don't know me yet."
Her expression softened at that. The humor faded just enough to let something gentler slip through. "I will," she said, voice low, genuine. "Soon. Slowly."
Arjun froze—not dramatically, just for the smallest breath of a moment. His eyes met hers, and for once, there was no teasing, no smirk. Just a look of surprise… and maybe a flicker of hope. Like he hadn't expected those words but was glad they'd been said.
"Okay," he murmured after a beat, as if sealing a silent promise between them.
Shruti gave a little nod, smile returning as she turned toward the pile of unopened covers near the wardrobe. "Let's see what damage you've done to your wallet."
"Oh, now you care about my wallet," he teased, standing up and dusting off his hands. "Where was this concern at the electronics store?"
She stuck out her tongue at him over her shoulder, making him chuckle.
Together, they started unpacking. There was no grand conversation, no deep confessions—just small, ordinary exchanges that felt natural.
"Arjun, why did you buy this? It's so bright!" Shruti held up a mustard-yellow kurta, mock-scowling.
He shrugged, hanging one of her pastel chudidars on a hanger. "It looked good in the store lighting."
"Liar. You just picked random stuff."
"Maybe. But you'll look good in it anyway," he said without missing a beat, smirking as he turned to grab another hanger.
Her cheeks warmed, but she decided not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. "You're impossible," she muttered.
"Thank you," he said cheerfully.
Shruti focused on folding her night clothes and innerwear, arranging them neatly into one of the drawers. She paused when she spotted her new phone still in its box. Biting her lip thoughtfully, she picked it up, unboxed it, and powered it on.
"I'm saving your number," she announced, pulling up the contacts app and holding the phone out.
Arjun glanced over, amused. "About time. Here, read it out—" He rattled off his number, watching as she typed.
She saved it under Dad out of habit, her thumb hesitating over the label for just a second. Then, with a small, almost private smile, she hit Done. It felt oddly right.
"Done?"
"Done," she said.
"Oh—Pragathi's number," Arjun added, as if suddenly remembering. "She gave it during the wedding. Said to make sure you call her."
Shruti's eyes sparkled. "What?! And you're telling me now?"
He grinned, smug. "You were too busy being overwhelmed by my generosity to ask."
She rolled her eyes. "Arjun!"
"Here." He rattled off Pragathi's number too, watching as Shruti eagerly saved it. She didn't even hesitate before hitting Call.
"Go outside," Arjun said, stepping back to give her space. "Talk properly. I'll finish here."
Shruti hesitated, glancing at the clothes. "Are you sure?"
He smirked, folding one of her shawls with exaggerated care. "You trust me with your precious salwars?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "Not really, but fine. Try not to mess up the colors. White stays with white, okay?"
"Bossy," he teased as she walked to the door.
"Better get used to it," she shot back over her shoulder, stepping into the quieter hallway. She leaned against the wall, heart lifting at the thought of hearing Pragathi's voice after so long.
As the phone rang, she closed her eyes briefly, listening to the quiet hum of the house—the faint clink of hangers from the bedroom, the distant call of birds outside the window.
The phone felt warm in Shruti's hand, or maybe that was just her heart. The sound of Pragathi's voice after so long felt like water after a drought — familiar, comforting, alive.
"Hello?" came a slightly unsure voice on the other end, cautious but hopeful.
Shruti's lips curved into a grin. She leaned against the cool wall, closing her eyes. "Guess who?"
There was a pause. A sharp inhale. Then, an excited, almost disbelieving squeal. "Wait… Shruti?! SHRUTI?!"
Shruti laughed softly, the sound echoing down the quiet hall. "Hi, Pragathi."
"OH MY GOD! SHRUTI! Finally! I've been waiting for your call, idiot!" Pragathi's voice burst out, equal parts scolding and thrilled.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry!" Shruti said, still laughing. "Things have been… really fast. It's been a whirlwind."
"I bet! Whose number is this though?" Pragathi asked, tone suddenly curious. "It's not the old number I had saved."
Shruti hesitated, her cheeks warming. "Mine."
There was a blink of confusion in the silence that followed. "Yours?"
"Yeah… My husband got it for me."
Another pause. Longer this time.
Then came the teasing drawl that Shruti knew was coming: "Ohoooooooo! Look at you! Already flexing the husband card!"
Shruti giggled, instinctively covering her mouth with her hand even though no one could hear her. "Shut up, Pragathi."
"You shut up!" Pragathi shot back, her voice full of affection. "You're married! Married! I can't believe this. Tell me everything. Is he boring? Is he scary? Is he nice? Do you actually like him? Or do I have to come beat him up?"
Shruti's eyes softened, her gaze drifting toward the bedroom door where Arjun was still moving around. "I'll tell you everything later. I promise. We just got home… and right now he's arranging my dresses."
Her voice was laced with amusement and disbelief at her own words.
A loud gasp. "WHOA. Husband of the YEAR alert! Shruti, what jackpot did you hit?!"
Shruti could feel her entire face go red. "Stop it! He's… he's just being decent."
"Decent? Girl, if my future husband even touches my cupboard, I'll fall at his feet and cry tears of joy."
Shruti burst out laughing. "You're impossible."
"And you're glowing. I can hear it in your voice. You sound… happy, Shruti."
The words made Shruti stop for a second, her laughter fading into a gentle, surprised smile. "Do I?"
"You do," Pragathi said softly. "And I'm really glad. I missed you, Shruti."
Shruti's throat tightened, emotion swelling in her chest. "I missed you too, Pragathi. So much."
There was a pause, the kind that happens when words aren't enough but hearts understand.
"Okay, go. Unpack your fancy new life," Pragathi teased gently, but Shruti could hear the love beneath it. "But call me tonight. No excuses."
"I will," Shruti promised. "And you better pick up on the first ring."
"Deal."
Shruti lingered on the call for a second longer, not wanting to break the connection, before finally ending it. She stood there quietly, phone still pressed to her ear even though the line had gone silent.
Her heart felt lighter.
Her world — a little brighter.
Smiling at nothing in particular, she turned and walked back into the room, ready to face whatever came next… with Arjun waiting on the other side.
To be continued...