The house had settled into its usual quiet after dinner.
The kitchen lights were dimmed, the faint smell of spices still lingering in the air, and the distant hum of the city outside felt muted, almost respectful of the calm inside. Arina wiped her hands slowly on the kitchen towel, her movements unhurried. Reyansh had already left the dining table, somewhere between the living room and their bedroom, leaving her with her thoughts—something she had grown used to, and oddly comfortable with.
She checked the time on her phone and hesitated for a second before unlocking it.
It was late, but not too late.
Advika would be awake.
Arina moved toward the balcony, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she leaned lightly against the railing. The city lights glimmered below like scattered stars. She dialed the number she knew by heart.
The call barely rang twice.
"Finally," Advika's voice came through, amused and dramatic. "I was starting to think my lovely sister had forgotten she even had a family."
A small smile tugged at Arina's lips. "You talk as if I don't call you every week."
"Calling once a week and remembering us when you need to invite us somewhere are two very different things," Advika replied smoothly.
Arina shook her head, already expecting this. "How are you?"
"Changing the topic already?" Advika laughed. "We're fine. Mom's busy planning their trip schedule like a military operation, Dad's pretending he understands it, and I'm stuck handling work that refuses to give me a break. Now tell me—how's your life going?"
Arina inhaled softly. "It's… good. Busy."
"Busy," Advika repeated knowingly. "Or happily occupied?"
"Advika," Arina warned lightly.
Her sister hummed. "I'll take that as confirmation."
Arina ignored the comment and continued, "I'm calling to invite you for the bakery opening. It's in two days."
There was a pause—brief, but thoughtful.
"That's amazing," Advika said warmly. "I'm really proud of you."
Arina's grip on the phone tightened slightly. Praise always made her uncomfortable, but coming from Advika, it felt… grounding. "Thank you."
"And the puja?" Advika asked. "You mentioned something about it earlier."
"Yes. I'm planning a small one at home, a day before the opening."
Another pause. "I might not be able to make it for the puja," Advika admitted. "I'll be out of the city for work. But I'll definitely be there for the bakery opening. That, I won't miss."
Arina nodded even though Advika couldn't see her. "It's okay. I understand."
She meant it. If Advika said it was important, it truly was.
"Look at you," Advika teased. "All understanding and calm. Marriage suits you."
Arina sighed softly. "Don't start."
"Why not?" Advika continued, clearly enjoying herself. "Tell me—how's Reyansh? Still intimidating the world?"
"He's fine," Arina replied carefully.
"That's it?" Advika laughed. "Just 'fine'?"
"Yes."
"God, you're no fun." Then her tone softened. "But I'm glad. Truly."
Before Arina could respond, Advika added mischievously, "Make sure you don't forget us once your bakery turns into an empire."
Arina rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"And you love me," Advika said sweetly. "Now give the phone to Mom. She's been waiting."
Arina hesitated for a fraction of a second, then smiled. "Alright."
She turned back toward the room, walking slowly. Just as she lifted the phone again—
Two arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
Her breath hitched—but only for a moment.
She leaned back instinctively, letting her weight rest against Reyansh's chest, already familiar with the warmth, the quiet presence behind her. His chin hovered near her shoulder, his hold unhurried, steady.
She lifted the phone. "Mom?"
Her mother's voice filled her ear, warm and concerned. "How are you, beta? Are you eating properly?"
"I am," Arina replied softly. "Everything is fine."
They spoke for a while—about her health, about daily routines, about small things that mattered more than they sounded. Reyansh remained still behind her, his arms secure but gentle, his presence grounding.
Arina mentioned the puja, inviting them both.
"We'll be there," her mother said gently, warmth wrapping every word. "Your father has already adjusted our plans. We wouldn't miss something this important to you."
Arina's shoulders relaxed without her realizing it.
Her mother smiled, as if she could see her.
"Take care of yourself. And eat properly."
She hummed softly.
After ending the call, Arina lowered the phone slowly.
Reyansh's voice came close to her ear, teasing. "Busy evening."
She hummed in response, turning around within his arms.
"Any plans for tonight?" he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Arina tilted her head slightly. Then, without answering, she rose on her toes and kissed him.
It was gentle. Unrushed. Her lips pressed softly against his, her hand resting against his torso as if testing something delicate.
Reyansh froze—just for a second.
Then his hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he deepened the kiss, slow and intentional. Not demanding. Just present.
When she pulled back, her face was flushed, her breathing uneven.
She slipped her arms around his shoulders. "I like… how we spend time together," she said quietly.
Reyansh chuckled. "Is that so?"
"Yes."
"So," he leaned closer, voice playful, "what's the plan for tonight? I'll cooperate fully."
She pointed toward the window, gesturing vaguely at the sky. Then frowned. "You're not allowed to tease me."
Her tone was mock-threatening, her expression serious—but her eyes betrayed her.
Reyansh laughed openly. "Alright. No teasing."
She huffed, crossing her arms while walking towards the bed.
"I will not talk to you."
"Mm," he said casually, already turning toward the bed. "Terrifying."
She was still mentally planning how long she'd stay annoyed when, minutes later, familiar arms slipped around her again. He pulled her back against his chest with effortless ease, fitting her there like it was the most natural place in the world.
"Hey," she muttered, trying—and failing—to sound serious.
He only tightened his hold slightly, chin resting near her hair.
"Good night," he said, far too amused.
Her protest melted into a quiet breath as she settled against him anyway.
And that, somehow, said everything.
---
"Comfort can be its own kind of romance."