The plates were cleared, but the warmth of the evening clung to the air, mingling with the echoes of their laughter that still seemed to hum along the walls. The dining room felt lived-in, like it had absorbed the joy of the night. Shruti stacked the last plate in the sink while Arjun leaned against the doorway, watching with that quiet, content smile of his.
Pragathi dusted her hands and straightened with a little sigh of mock regret. "Alright, time to head home before Dad starts thinking I've been kidnapped."
Shruti walked her toward the door, tugging her dupatta into place. "Tell Uncle I'll come over one of these days. And maybe I'll drag this lazy fellow along."
Pragathi smirked, glancing back at Arjun. "He looks like he'll need dragging."
Arjun chuckled low, crossing his arms. "I'm always up for free food. Just say the word."
Kiran stretched like he'd just finished a twelve-hour shift, arms over his head, cracking his neck with exaggerated flair. "Well, I guess it's my cue to drop her home. Wouldn't want any search parties or FIRs filed tonight."
Shruti raised a brow. "You guess?"
Pragathi folded her arms, an eyebrow arched. "Oh, was that even a question, Mr. Senior?"
Kiran grabbed his keys from the table with all the casual confidence of a man who had planned this from the start. "Nope," he said with a grin that reached his eyes.
They stepped out into the night, where the world had grown quiet, the hum of the city a distant thing. The streetlamp outside cast a warm yellow circle that stretched their shadows far down the empty road. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint scent of rain somewhere far off.
Kiran swung a leg over his bike, resting his hands lightly on the handlebars, his grin still firmly in place. "Alright, lead the way, ma'am. I promise I won't get lost. Not when the view is this good."
Pragathi rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Flatterer. Just take a left at the main road, then the second right. I'll direct you. Don't blame me if we end up at the wrong house because you're too busy staring at me instead of the road."
He started the bike, the soft rumble filling the quiet street. "If we get lost, I'll just call it an adventure. You wouldn't abandon your poor senior on a strange road at night, would you?"
She shook her head, sliding onto the seat behind him. "I might. If you keep talking like that."
As they rode off, the wind tugged at Pragathi's hair, and for a few moments, they fell into a comfortable silence. But every time they slowed for a turn or a signal, the quiet cracked open with their banter.
At the first red light, Kiran glanced at her sideways, eyes glinting beneath the streetlamp's glow. "So… are you always this bossy with your drivers, or am I just lucky tonight?"
Pragathi smirked, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Oh, you're lucky. Usually, I make them carry my books too."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Careful. I might actually offer, just for the excuse to see you again."
She arched a brow, tilting her head with mock seriousness. "You're offering already? That was fast. Thought seniors were supposed to be cooler about this."
He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically as the light turned green. "You wound me, ma'am. I am cool. This is me being cool."
They sped forward into the night, their laughter blending with the soft hum of the bike and the city slowly preparing to sleep.
As they neared her lane, Kiran risked another glance. "Next time, I'm bringing a GPS. Just to make sure I don't lose my way."
Pragathi grinned, her voice soft as the breeze. "If you're riding with me, you won't need one."
And somewhere behind them, Shruti and Arjun stood in the doorway, watching until the bike's red tail light became just another star in the distance.
Finally, they slowed to a stop outside Pragathi's house — a cozy, well-kept home with a small garden out front, fairy lights twinkling along the balcony railing. The soft glow from the porch light spilled onto the lane, casting gentle shadows around them.
Pragathi swung one leg off the bike and was about to hop down when Kiran held up a hand, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Wait. Hold on."
She paused, half off the bike, giving him a suspicious look. "What now? Planning to charge me a fare for the ride?"
He bit his lip, fighting the grin tugging at his mouth. "No, but… I think I'm lost."
She raised an eyebrow, planting both feet on the ground and crossing her arms. "Lost? You're literally parked in front of my house, genius."
Kiran leaned slightly toward her, resting his elbow on the handlebar like he had all the time in the world. "Yeah, but I seem to have misplaced something very important."
"Oh really?" she asked, amused. "And what's that? Your mind?"
He laughed. "That went missing the minute you climbed onto my bike." He pointed at his chest. "No, I've lost my way to talk to you again."
Pragathi blinked, a half-smile forming despite herself. "You're unbelievable."
He shrugged, undeterred. "Unbelievable, but charming. Come on — give me your number so I don't have to get lost trying to find you next time."
She shook her head, but the smile spread wider. "That line was so bad, it almost gave me secondhand embarrassment."
"But you're still smiling," he pointed out, hopeful.
She sighed dramatically, pulling out her phone. "Fine. But if you send me any cringey 'Good morning, princess' messages, I'm blocking you on the spot."
"Deal," he said, solemn as a monk. "Only top-tier memes. Maybe the occasional flirty text, but high quality — I swear."
She typed her number into his phone, handed it back, and smirked. "See that you keep that standard. I have high expectations, Kiran."
He clutched the phone to his heart with exaggerated relief. "You have no idea how happy you just made my sad little soul."
Pragathi rolled her eyes fondly. "Alright, Mr. Senior. I'm going in before you start composing a thank-you poem."
Kiran grinned, watching her retreat toward the gate. "Hey, Pragathi?" he called softly.
She turned, hand on the latch. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for not jumping off the bike at the first signal and running," he said, teasing but a little sincere beneath the joke.
She laughed, the sound soft in the quiet lane. "I considered it."
"Fair enough."
She waved once, then disappeared inside, the click of the gate and the soft thud of the door shutting leaving him alone with the night.
For a beat, Kiran just sat there, grinning at the closed door. Then he looked up at the stars, let out a breath — and punched the air in triumph, whisper-shouting, "Yesss!"
He did a ridiculous little victory dance on the sidewalk: high knees, a spin, a pretend mic drop. "Smooth, Kiran. So smooth," he congratulated himself under his breath.
A dog somewhere down the lane barked lazily at the disturbance.
Kiran froze mid-dance, glancing around like a guilty kid, then hurriedly swung back onto his bike. Still grinning so wide it almost hurt, he revved the engine and sped off into the night, her number saved safely in his phone and his heart thudding with the rush of a tiny, unexpected victory.
To be continued...