Aakrati stood near the doorway, fingers nervously twisting the edge of her dress, as the soft clinking of cups announced her mother's return.
"Have some snacks," her mother said warmly, placing the tray on the table with a gentle smile that could make anyone feel at ease.
Arsh smiled back just as politely. "Thank you, aunty."
He looked… normal. Too normal.
That was what unsettled Aakrati the most.
Her eyes stayed fixed on him, searching—waiting—for even the slightest hint that he might say something… anything. A word, a slip, a joke—something that could expose what they had been, what they had shared. Her heart thudded painfully against her chest.
What if he tells her?
In her house, things like dating weren't casual conversations—they were storms. The kind that didn't pass easily. The kind that left silence behind.
But Arsh didn't say a word.
He thanked her mother again for the snacks, even laughed lightly at something she said. Calm. Composed. As if there was nothing between him and Aakrati beyond simple acquaintance.
And somehow, that hurt… and relieved her… at the same time.
Her mother, clearly pleased with his manners, leaned forward slightly. "You must come for Aakrati's engagement. It's tomorrow."
Before Aakrati could even react, the words slipped out of her mouth—quick, almost defensive. "Mom, he must be busy. He won't be able to come."
For a split second, Arsh's eyes flickered toward her.
Then he smiled.
"I'll come, aunty. Definitely."
Aakrati's breath caught.
"And I'll bring a friend too."
Something about the way he said it—calm, assured, almost intentional—made her stomach tighten.
He stood up soon after, exchanging polite goodbyes, as if this was just another visit, another ordinary day.
But as he walked out of the door, Aakrati knew—
Nothing about this was ordinary anymore.
Arsh had barely stepped out of the gate when the faint rumble of another vehicle stopped outside.
Aakrati's heart, already unsettled, skipped again.
Krish.
He stood there, holding a carefully wrapped package in his hands, his expression carrying a quiet mix of hesitation and resolve. For a moment, he simply looked at the house—as if gathering courage—before stepping forward.
Aakrati's mother opaened the door, her face lighting up instantly. "Krish! Come in, come in."
He smiled politely, bending slightly in respect as he entered. "Hello, aunty."
His eyes instinctively searched the room… and found Aakrati.
There was no accusation in his gaze, no drama—just something steady. Something real.
"I… actually came to give this," he said, extending the package toward her. "Mom chose it for you. She thought you'd like it for the engagement."
Aakrati took it slowly, her fingers brushing against his for a fleeting second. The weight of the box suddenly felt heavier than it should.
Her mother beamed. "So thoughtful! Sit, beta, I'll bring tea."
As her mother walked away, a brief silence settled between them.
Krish exhaled softly, then looked at her—not intensely, not forcefully, but with a kind of sincerity that made it hard to look away.
"Aakrati… can I ask you something?"
She nodded, her grip tightening on the package.
"If you don't want this… if you're not okay with all this," he said gently, "I won't force you. I mean that."
Her eyes lifted to meet his.
"But if this is happening…" he continued, his voice steady but honest, "then I just want one thing—that my family doesn't get hurt. And that I'm the one you choose. Not because you have to… but because you decide to."
The words settled deeply.
No pressure. No demand. Just truth.
"And if that's not what you feel," he added with a faint, almost reassuring smile, "I'm okay being your friend too."
Something inside Aakrati shifted.
For the first time, she wasn't thinking about fear… or hiding… or what might go wrong.
She was thinking about fairness.
About expectations.
About people who were trusting her without knowing the whole story.
Krish wasn't asking for control.
He was asking for honesty.
And suddenly, the thought struck her clearly—
She couldn't use him as a shield for her own confusion. Couldn't let him stand there, hoping, while she held back parts of herself.
He deserved more than that.
She lowered her gaze, her voice soft but certain.
"You're right."
Krish didn't respond immediately, but something in his expression eased—like he had been waiting not for a specific answer, but for the truth.
Aakrati held the dress closer, feeling the weight of it—not just as fabric, but as a choice she could no longer avoid.
And in that quiet moment, she realized—
This wasn't just about what she wanted anymore.
It was about what was right.
The next day,
The house glowed with lights, laughter, and the soft chaos of a celebration in motion.
It was the engagement day.
Aakrati stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing herself. Dressed in the outfit, her hair perfectly styled, jewelry catching every flicker of light—she looked breathtaking.
Shrisha practically bounced behind her. "Aakrati, you look so beautiful! I swear, Krish is going to forget how to speak."
Aakrati gave a faint smile. "Let's hope he remembers at least his own name."
Her mother walked in, eyes instantly filling with emotion. "My daughter…" she said softly, adjusting Aakrati's dress. "You look perfect."
Her father leaned against the doorframe, pride clear in his voice. "Ready?"
Aakrati nodded.
But inside, nothing felt ready.
—
Krish's family entered with smiles and greetings.
"Today our future daughter-in-law is stealing the show," Krish's mother said warmly.
Krish followed, his eyes immediately finding Aakrati.
For a moment, everything else faded.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly when he reached her.
"Thank you," Aakrati replied, her voice soft.
And then—
"Hey."
She froze.
Arsh.
He walked in with Siddharth beside him, both relaxed, almost effortless.
"Aunty, hello," Arsh greeted politely.
"Arsh! You came!" her mother said, pleased. "And this is?"
"Siddharth," Arsh said. "My friend."
Siddharth smiled. "Hello, aunty. Congratulations."Big day, man."
Krish smiled. "Yeah… it is."
Everyone seemed comfortable.
Everyone except Aakrati.
She stood there, quiet, distant, her smile faint and controlled.
And Arsh noticed.
His gaze kept returning to her—the way she avoided eye contact, the way her fingers stayed tightly clasped together.
Siddharth leaned closer to him and whispered, "You okay?"
Arsh let out a soft breath. "Yeah. I'm fine."
But his eyes didn't leave Aakrati.
Across the room, Krish noticed too.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently. "You seem quiet."
"I'm fine," she replied quickly.
Too quickly.
Arsh's jaw tightened slightly.
Shrisha called out, "It's time for the ceremony!"
The room shifted.
Aakrati walked forward, each step heavy despite the celebration around her.
Krish walked beside her.
Arsh stayed back, watching.
Siddharth muttered under his breath, "Don't overthink this."
Arsh gave a faint, bitter smile. "I'm not doing anything."
But the jealousy sat there, sharp and silent.
As Aakrati and Krish sat down, families smiling, cameras ready, everyone cheering softly—
Arsh stood at the edge.
Close enough to see every detail.
Far enough to not belong.
Krish picked up the ring, glancing at Aakrati with a small, reassuring smile. "Ready?"
Aakrati hesitated for the briefest second… then nodded.
As she slid the ring onto his finger, applause filled the room.
Arsh looked away for a moment, exhaling slowly.
Then, almost under his breath, he murmured—
"Congratulations, Aakrati."
No one heard it.
Except him.
And maybe, just maybe, Aakrati—who paused ever so slightly before forcing a smile for the crowd.