The sun hadn't fully stretched its arms across the sky when Shruti opened her eyes. The room was still dipped in that soft bluish hue of dawn, where night and morning quietly held hands for just a little longer. Shadows pooled lazily in the corners, like sleepy pets reluctant to move. The ceiling fan hummed its slow, steady rhythm, and the faint scent of lavender lingered from the night.
Shruti pushed herself up on one elbow, her dupatta slipping from her shoulder. Her gaze fell to Arjun, sprawled beside her, still tangled in sleep. His hair was a soft mess, falling over his forehead. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing even, and one arm dangled dramatically off the bed, fingers twitching now and then as if chasing some dream.
A warmth bloomed quietly in her chest.
She leaned closer, voice soft but firm. "Arjun... wake up."
No answer. Just the deep, content breathing of someone far from the world of alarms and responsibilities.
She tried again, nudging his shoulder gently. "Arjun... it's Saturday."
A groan. Long, low, muffled. "Mmmmmm."
Shruti bit back a laugh. She sat back, folding her arms. "We have temples to visit. You promised."
"Mmm... five more minutes..." His voice was thick with sleep, buried somewhere in the pillow.
Shruti tilted her head, watching him with growing amusement. She leaned down, so close that a lock of her hair tickled his cheek. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Wake up... for me?"
There was a beat of silence. Then a sigh. A long, dramatic breath as if he was making peace with his fate. He pushed the pillow aside, his eyes barely open, looking at her through lashes still heavy with sleep.
"That's cheating," he muttered, but the corners of his mouth curved in the faintest smile.
She smirked, sitting back victoriously. "Worked, though."
"You're evil," he declared, his voice rough and quiet, but playful.
"Get up," she said, grabbing his wrist and giving it a little tug.
He allowed himself to be pulled upright, swaying slightly, rubbing his eyes like a boy dragged out of bed on a holiday morning. His hair stuck out in odd angles, and his t-shirt hung loose on one side.
"I hate mornings," he mumbled, swaying toward the bathroom like a confused tree in a breeze.
She followed behind, steering him gently. "Take head bath," she instructed with mock sternness.
"Yes, boss," he said, half-yawning, disappearing inside. The sound of running water followed soon after, along with the faint clatter of the bucket.
Shruti shook her head fondly, pulling the curtain aside to greet the world outside. The first golden rays spilled into the room, bathing the walls in soft light. A few birds hopped along the balcony railing, chirping cheerfully as if mocking Arjun's reluctance to rise. The city below stretched and yawned, the streets slowly filling with life.
She smiled, resting her forehead lightly against the glass. "Lazy boy," she murmured to herself. But deep down, she knew she wouldn't want him any other way.
From behind the bathroom door came a groggy voice. "I heard that."
Shruti laughed, a soft, musical sound that mingled with the morning air. "Good. Now wake up properly. Or I'll come in there and pour cold water on you."
There was a pause, then the splash of water as he got serious.
"See?" she grinned. "Effective."
And so began their Saturday.
Inside the bathroom, Arjun stood under the gentle stream of water, splashing his face to chase the last clinging threads of sleep. But his mind wasn't focused on the cold water or the soap or the bucket.
His ears burned red as he replayed her words: "Or I'll come in there and pour cold water on you."
He groaned quietly, pressing his forehead against the cool tiles. "Shruti… don't say things like that," he whispered to himself, though half of him was saying it for her benefit, imagining she might somehow hear him through the door. "You have no idea how that sounds."
He shook his head, trying to clear away the thoughts that followed, but the grin tugging at his lips was hard to fight. The girl didn't even realize when she said things that turned his heart inside out.
By the time Arjun stepped out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, his hair was dripping wet, sticking to his forehead in soft, messy strands. His face looked fresher, but his shoulders still carried that lazy morning weight. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was a faint pink flush on his cheeks from the head bath.
Shruti, seated at the window with her towel in hand, looked up and grinned at him. "Better."
He gave her a tired but warm look. "Only because you bullied me into it."
"My turn," she said, grabbing her towel and slipping into the bathroom with an energy he secretly envied.
"Take your time. I'll pray for my knees while you're gone," he muttered, dropping onto the edge of the bed.
Steam filled the air as Shruti emerged a while later, the bathroom door creaking softly as it opened. A soft pastel chudidar hugged her frame modestly, the fabric fresh and uncreased. Her hair was half-dried, combed neatly and tucked behind her ears, and tiny glass bangles clicked against each other as she adjusted her dupatta.
Arjun looked up from where he sat, and for a second, words left him.
There was something about her—simple, quiet, but radiant in that morning light—that made him forget to breathe for a heartbeat.
"You look like you're about to visit a hundred temples," he teased, finding his voice again and leaning back on his hands.
She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint blush in her cheeks. "Only five."
"Only," he echoed dramatically, clutching his chest like a wounded hero. "Do you know how many steps that means? How many laddus I'll have to bribe myself with just to survive?"
Shruti smirked, folding her arms. "Maybe the temples will bless you with stronger knees."
He laughed, standing up and adjusting his casual blue shirt. "Or maybe they'll curse me for complaining before I even reach the first one."
"Come on, Arjun," she said, already heading for the door. "The earlier we go, the less crowded they'll be."
As they stepped out, Arjun's father appeared from the kitchen, his ever-present smile warming the morning air. He held out two steel cups of coffee, the aroma rich and comforting.
"Starting early, huh?" he said, handing one cup to Shruti and one to Arjun.
"Temples today, Dad," Shruti said brightly, blowing softly on the steaming surface.
His dad chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Ah, good. But careful on those steps. Some of those old temples have more stairs than sense."
Arjun groaned, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Appa, don't scare her."
"She should be scared of you," his dad teased. "You'll probably collapse halfway up."
Shruti raised a brow over her cup, the corners of her mouth twitching. "See? Even Dad agrees with me."
Arjun gave her a mock glare. "Traitors. Both of you."
His dad grinned. "That's marriage, son. Get used to it."
Shruti laughed, the sound soft and sweet in the quiet of the morning. "Thank you for the coffee, Dad."
His dad's eyes warmed at the word. "Anytime, ma."
They finished their coffee together in companionable silence, standing by the open door as the morning breeze carried in the scent of wet earth and distant flowers.
Arjun took one last gulp, handed the empty cup back, and stretched his arms. "Okay. Let's go get blessed."
"Let's go make memories," Shruti corrected, stepping out into the soft sunlight.
And together, hand in hand without thinking, they stepped into the waiting day—where temples, crowds, and whispered prayers would weave themselves into the first chapter of their shared journey.
To be continued...