Varun handed me a helmet.
I slipped it on and climbed onto the bike behind him. As we pulled away, I glanced back once-Arun was waving from afar. I waved back, smiling without even realizing it.
"Why aren't we going with them?" Karan said from the car.
"Yeah, we should join them," Arun agreed.
But Varun had already started the bike.
What we didn't know was that they were following us.
We stopped somewhere in the middle of the road. Varun said something, but the wind tore his words apart.
"What?" I asked.
He leaned back and said it again.
"I still can't hear you," I said, laughing.
Suddenly, he stopped the bike and got down, visibly irritated.
"Why aren't you holding me tight?" he asked.
"That's why you stopped?" I asked, pressing my lips together, laughing harder.
He looked annoyed-but there was something endearing about it. Too open. Too honest.
From behind us, the car slowed.
"Is everything alright?" Karan asked Arun.
"I don't think so," Arun replied, stopping the car.
"What's wrong?" Arun asked, walking toward us.
"Aaahhhh!" Varun suddenly screamed.
"Aaaaaahhhhh!" I screamed too, startled-mostly because Arun screamed at the same time.
"Why are you screaming?" Arun asked me.
"He screamed," I said, pointing at Varun.
"Why did you scream?" Arun asked Varun.
"I saw you," Varun replied flatly.
Karan stepped out, irritation written all over his face.
"What are you all doing in the middle of the road? Why did you stop?"
"Yes, everything is fine," Varun said quickly.
"Then why were you angry?" Karan asked, his tone firm-too firm.
Varun hesitated.
"I was asking her about a brand she'd like to try," he lied. "She couldn't hear me."
"How can she hear you when you're driving?" Karan replied, authority slipping into his voice like it always did.
Varun went quiet. I felt it immediately-his frustration, swallowed.
"Let's go, otherwise we'll be late," Arun said gently.
As always, Arun became the bridge between tension and silence.
They returned to the car. Varun led the way.
But something inside me tightened.
Every time Varun tried to express himself freely, Karan intervened. Sometimes it was concern. Sometimes jealousy. Sometimes control disguised as reason. Even the smallest moments weren't allowed to be careless.
As Varun started driving again, I knew Karan was watching.
I could feel it-his presence pressing in even from a distance.
So I moved closer.
I wrapped my arms around Varun, slowly, deliberately. My cheek brushed against his shoulder, my fingers sliding inside his jacket until my palm rested flat against his chest. I felt his heartbeat-steady, warm. He inhaled sharply, his back pressing into me just a little more, acknowledging me without turning around.
You wanted this, I thought to Varun-the closeness, the warmth, the way I hold you.
And so did I.
It wasn't impulsive.
It was chosen.
Karan didn't object loudly; he simply watched through the mirror, and in that quiet gaze I felt it-the unspoken reminder that my closeness with Varun wasn't being judged as affection, but as something that still needed his permission.
"Aren't they getting too close?" Karan said finally. "It's a public place."
"That's cute," Arun replied calmly. "That's how newlywed couples behave."
Karan didn't smile.
"And that's how," he said, his voice edged with something raw, "she'll start loving him more than she loves us."
I tightened my hold around Varun without realizing it.
And for the first time,
I didn't feel guilty.
"No way," Arun laughed. "I never lose when it comes to love. You have your own charm-don't act like you don't."
Then, quieter but deliberate, he added,
"Make her feel more special than Varun is making her."
As we reached the store, I climbed off the bike and removed my helmet.
"Let's go. Shall we?" I asked casually, turning away.
Varun caught my arm and gently pulled me back.
"You did that on purpose."
I smiled. "What? What did I do on purpose?" I asked, pretending innocence.
"You know exactly what I'm asking," Varun said.
"I don't know what you're asking," I replied, still smiling.
Before Varun could say more, Arun, who had overheard everything, walked up behind him and hugged him from the back-his hands resting on Varun's chest, his face near his shoulder.
"He's asking about *this*, Aayna," Arun said dramatically.
I burst out laughing.
Varun pushed Arun away.
Arun and I laughed even harder.
We high-fived, then hugged-our vibe matching instantly, effortless and natural.
"Yeah," I admitted, looking at Varun. "I did that on purpose."
"Careful," Varun said, half-smiling. "You still have to live with him for one week."
"And not just that," he added seriously. "We have to attend a party with possible media presence. They make small things big. Even a slight change in expression gets noticed."
"Varun's right," Arun said. "Pick your battles. Timing matters."
"I don't like him being unnecessarily authoritative," I said honestly. "He kills the vibe."
"Yeah," Varun replied gently, "but he's your husband too."
"And it's an important event," Arun added.
Then Arun looked at me, softer now.
"Go be with him. Try to make him feel special."
Varun nodded in agreement.
I handed my helmet to Arun and ran toward Karan, who was waiting a few metres ahead.
"Where are they?" Karan asked.
"They're coming," I said, slipping my hand into his arm.
His expression changed immediately.
"Wow-ice cream," I said suddenly, spotting a shop nearby. "Let's go."
"Let them come," Karan said.
"No, please," I insisted, tugging his arm lightly.
"Aree," he said, amused. "Do you like ice cream *that* much?"
I nodded like a little girl.
He smiled. "Alright. Let's go then."
He held my hand, and we ran.
At the counter, Karan didn't rush me. He simply stood beside me, close enough that I didn't have to ask.
**When I chose my flavor, he nodded once-and didn't interfere. He was learning to let go of his authority.**
Somewhere along the way, I realized something quietly.
I had learned a few ways to make a man happy.
This was one of them.
Only I could tell the difference between the genuine me and the version of me that adjusted.
Right now, for Arun and Varun, family reputation mattered.
And for that... Karan's happiness mattered too.
And I chose my moment.
As we reached the store, Arun asked, "Where were you? We're getting late."
I lied and said we got lost-turning it into our little secret, a small softness meant to make Karan feel chosen. In the mirror across the aisle, I saw Karan's smile flicker-brief, restrained, but real.
I liked that I could change his mood.
I hated that it required calculation.
Inside the store, there were hundreds-no, thousands-of dresses. And for a moment, the noise of expectations dissolved into fabric and color.
I tried on one dress after another.
Varun's reactions were instinctive-honest, unfiltered. When he liked something, his eyes lit up, forgetting politics, forgetting consequences. With him, appreciation came easily, almost recklessly. He didn't weigh what liking something meant.
Arun, on the other hand, watched quietly. He noticed how I stood, how I hesitated, how my smile shifted between mirrors. When he spoke, it wasn't about the dress alone-it was about how I felt inside it. He never rushed me. Never claimed space. He simply steadied the moment.
Karan's choices were careful. Measured. He liked what aligned-with the event, the image, the unspoken rules.
In the end, I chose the dress Arun liked the most.
Not because it was the best, but because he had never asked to be chosen.
He had always been the one smoothing edges, absorbing tension, making room for everyone else-without demanding anything in return.
We picked a necklace that rested softly against the neckline and a pair of heels that felt right, not performative.
The one thing they all agreed on was this-I looked gorgeous.
They each bought something for themselves, small tokens of readiness, and from there we went straight to the venue.
And as we left the store, I realized something quietly unsettling:
Varun loved me freely.
Arun held me steadily.
And Karan needed me carefully.
And somehow, I was learning how to balance all three.