The house fell into a soft, comforting hush as all four of them stepped inside. The door clicked shut, sealing out the noise of the world. Within these walls, everything felt still except for the warm scent of sandalwood incense curling through the air and the faint aroma of something gently simmering on the stove—maybe dal, or Arjun's half-hearted attempt at curry from earlier.
Pragathi slowed as she entered, her eyes widening as she took it all in. The living room was simple but cozy, with soft beige cushions arranged just so on the sofa, a thin throw folded at the edge. Books—Arjun's engineering guides mixed with Shruti's novels—were stacked neatly on the side table. Two mismatched mugs stood drying by the sink, faint tea stains visible at the rim. A pair of Arjun's keys sat beside a lone earring of Shruti's on the table near the door, like the house itself told their story.
"Wait…" Pragathi turned slowly, her voice a mixture of wonder and curiosity. "This whole place? You two live here alone?"
Shruti nodded, her smile gentle as she unpinned her dupatta and draped it across the back of the couch. "Yup. Just us."
Pragathi stared, as if seeing Shruti in a whole new light. "Like… no in-laws? No nosy aunts dropping by every hour?"
Shruti laughed softly. "Nope. Just us. Uncle's in Mumbai most of the time, remember?"
Pragathi blinked, then turned to Arjun, placing both hands on her hips dramatically. "Wow. Newlyweds with an entire house to themselves? You're living the dream, anna. Admit it."
Arjun smirked, shrugging as he set his helmet down on the shelf. "Not a dream when you're the one scrubbing the bathroom tiles on Sundays."
Shruti snorted and jabbed his side with her elbow. "As if! You haven't even seen the broom in a week. Don't act innocent."
"Hey, I wiped the table yesterday!" he defended, holding up a finger.
Pragathi burst out laughing. "Such domestic bliss. I can't handle this."
Meanwhile, Kiran lingered near the door, his hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets. His eyes danced around the room, pretending to inspect the decor but clearly eavesdropping on the banter.
"So…" he started, rocking on his heels. "Do I leave now? Or am I welcome for dinner too?"
Arjun shot him a look, folding his arms. "You came to drop Pragathi off. That was the whole plan, wasn't it?"
Kiran grinned, trying to look innocent. "Sure. But someone's gotta drop her back too. Can't let a girl go home alone, can I?"
Arjun leaned in a little, dropping his voice just low enough for Kiran to hear. "Liar. Just say you want to stay longer."
He smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or should I give you her address in writing? Maybe print it out? Frame it?"
Kiran groaned softly, but the tips of his ears were turning a shade too pink to deny anything.
Before he could muster a comeback, Pragathi raised a brow, strolling over with arms crossed. "What's this secret meeting happening without me? Are you two planning my whole evening?"
Shruti, now sinking into the couch, pressed her fingers to her lips to hide the giggle bubbling out. Her eyes flicked between Arjun and Kiran, catching the silent exchange of looks that said more than words ever could.
"Oh, nothing at all," Arjun said smoothly, straightening. "Just Kiran offering to personally guard you like a knight in shining armour."
Kiran threw his hands up. "You're enjoying this way too much."
Shruti joined in, grinning. "But it's kind of cute, no? Chivalry isn't dead after all."
Pragathi rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "I swear, I regret asking to come over. The two of you are like a comedy duo."
Kiran leaned against the doorframe, playful now. "If you regret it so much, I can take you home right now. No need to stay."
Pragathi gave him a mock glare. "Stop pretending. You're enjoying this too."
Arjun shook his head, muttering, "Hopeless."
Shruti glanced at all of them, warmth filling her chest. And for that moment, with laughter bouncing off the walls, she let herself forget the outside world entirely.
Shruti took Pragathi's hand and tugged her gently up the stairs, the old wooden railing cool beneath their fingers. The quiet thump of their footsteps on the polished steps filled the space between soft laughter and whispered conversation.
The upstairs hallway was small but bright, sunlight streaming through the narrow window at the end, casting warm patterns on the tiled floor. Shruti moved ahead, leading Pragathi to the door at the right end of the corridor.
"And this," she said, pushing it open with a small, proud smile, "is our room."
Pragathi stepped inside, eyes wide with curiosity. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and something uniquely Shruti—like jasmine and fresh cotton. Her gaze swept over the space—the neatly made bed with a soft blue quilt, the shared study table littered with books, Arjun's watch lying carelessly beside a folded kerchief, Shruti's comb and bangles by the mirror, and two pillows placed side by side.
"Wait," Pragathi blinked, processing the scene. "You two… you sleep in the same room? On the same bed?"
Shruti grinned, a little shy but mostly at ease. "Yeah."
Pragathi turned to face her, brows raised in surprise. "But... but someone said it was a forced marriage."
Shruti's smile softened. She walked over to the bed, smoothing a corner of the quilt with her palm as if gathering her thoughts. "It was. But Arjun… he's taken such good care of me this past week. Not because anyone told him to, not because he had to—but because that's just how he is with me. And honestly?" She looked up, eyes glinting with sincerity. "I think… he's the best gift my parents ever gave me."
Pragathi's playful expression faded into something gentler, more thoughtful. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Shruti… do you like him?"
The question, so softly asked, hung between them like a fragile thread. Shruti's eyes widened, her breath hitching. A flush rose to her cheeks, delicate and unhidden. She opened her mouth, closed it, then let out a small laugh—nervous, but honest.
"I… I don't know if it's already love. But… maybe," she admitted, fingers playing with the end of her braid. "Maybe I'll fall in love with him sooner than I ever thought possible."
Pragathi stared at her, stunned. "But… how?" she asked, genuinely curious. "You've seen how he is. Cold as ice with everyone else. How did you melt him?"
Shruti giggled, her heart light as she leaned back against the edge of the table. "That's the thing. With me… that cold man doesn't exist. When we're alone, he's just a boy. He's funny, he teases me, he's lazy when it comes to chores, and honestly?" She tilted her head, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "He can be a bit stupid about some things."
Pragathi couldn't help but laugh at that. But then she grew serious again, her smile softening into something warm and proud. "Shruti... I'm so happy for you. After everything you went through at home… you deserve this. You deserve someone who sees you."
Shruti felt her throat tighten, emotion swelling unexpectedly. A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. "Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling just enough to show the depth of it. "For always being there. All those days… when I didn't know who else to lean on."
Pragathi pulled her into a hug, holding her close. "And I'll always be there," she murmured fiercely. "This doesn't change anything. You might have Arjun now, but you'll always have me too."
Shruti closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the comfort of that embrace. When they finally pulled back, she sniffled, wiping her face with the edge of her dupatta, a smile breaking through the tears.
"Okay," Pragathi said, nudging her lightly, trying to lift the mood. "Enough tears. Let's go back down before the boys think we're plotting to redecorate the house or something."
Shruti giggled, nodding. "Yeah. Let's go before Arjun starts wondering if I've kidnapped you."
And with that, the two girls made their way downstairs, steps lighter, hearts warmer—bound by the kind of friendship that could weather anything, even the strange, beautiful beginnings of love.
To be continued...