The heavy click of his parents' bedroom door echoed through the hallway like a gavel, pronouncing them both guilty of terminal embarrassment. For a long beat, Divyash and Avni remained frozen in their respective spots—him dripping a puddle onto the foyer tiles, and her clutching the banister as if it were a lifebuoy.
The silence was thick, flavored with the scent of wet wool and the distant, muffled sound of the rain still hammering against the terrace.
"I’ll... get a mop," Divyash whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
"I’ll get the towels," Avni replied, her eyes fixed firmly on a very interesting knot in the wooden floorboards.
She turned and vanished into the linen closet, her movements frantic. When she emerged, she practically threw a bundle of terry cloth at him. Divyash caught it with a wet thwack, wrapped it around his shoulders, and began the walk of shame toward the bathroom.
The bedroom door clicked shut, but the silence between Avni and Divyash felt louder than any argument. They had spent the last hour dodging his parents and Dadi, navigating the crowded hallways like fugitives. Now, finally alone, the words they needed to say seemed to dissolve before they could reach their tongues.
"Avni! Divyash!" Ridha’s voice drifted up from the ground floor, sharp enough to pierce the heavy atmosphere of the room. "What do you two want for dinner? Shanta isn't coming in, so I'm heading to the kitchen myself."
The mundane question offered a much-needed escape. "I should go and help her," Avni said, already moving toward the door.
When she entered the kitchen, the scent of spices was already beginning to bloom. "I’ll help you with the meal, Mummyji," Avni offered softly.
Ridha didn’t look up from the stove. "I’m starting the paneer. You can get the dough ready for the rotis."
"Sure." Avni moved to the counter, her hands finding the flour and water with practiced ease.
A thick, suffocating awkwardness filled the space. Since the wedding, moments alone with Ridha had been rare and fraught with unspoken tension. It was no secret that Avni hadn't been Ridha’s first choice for her son; the disapproval had been etched into every interaction since day one. The events on the terrace an hour ago only made the air feel heavier. For thirty minutes, the only sounds were the hiss of the pan and the rhythmic kneading of dough.
Finally, Ridha sighed, the sound weary rather than angry. "You don’t need to be so guarded around me, Avni. I know I haven't made it easy for you to feel at home here, but you don't have to walk on eggshells."
Avni kept her eyes on the dough. "I wasn't trying to be awkward, Mummyji. It’s just... I know how you feel about me."
Ridha turned then, an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck. "Is it that obvious? Look, I won’t lie. I had always envisioned Vivek marrying you. You and Vivek are the same age, both unmarried—it seemed like a logical fit. With Divyash, there is the age gap, the difference in financial standing, the maturity... I thought you two were a mismatch. But seeing you together now... I see I was wrong. You’re happy. At the end of the day, what more could a mother ask for? I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you."
Avni stopped kneading, stunned. She had suspected the bias toward Vivek, but hearing it voiced so plainly was another thing entirely.
"It’s okay, Mummyji," Avni said, her voice steadying. "I understand you wanted the best for Vivek. But marrying Divyash was my choice. Even if I had met Vivek first, I don't think I'd be standing here today. There is something in Divyash’s nature—the way he is—that made me say yes. I’ve never regretted it, and I never will. So, let’s leave the awkwardness behind. Maybe I can even help you find the right match for Vivek."
Ridha finally smiled, a genuine spark in her eyes. "I think I’d like that. Now, let’s get this dinner on the table."
Outside the kitchen door, hidden in the shadows of the hallway, Divyash stood frozen. He had come down to help, only to overhear a conversation that stripped him bare. The old sting of being compared to his brother had begun to flare up, but Avni’s words extinguished it instantly. His insecurities—the doubts about his age and his worth—vanished. In that moment, he realized it wasn't just a "like" anymore. He loved her with a depth that terrified him.
After dinner, the house settled into a quiet hum. When Avni and Divyash returned to their room, the memory of the terrace hit them both like a physical wave. They stood in the center of the room, the ghost of that interrupted kiss lingering on their lips.
Divyash took a step forward, his voice a low vibration. "Avni..."
"Divyash..." she whispered at the same time.
The tension snapped. Avni reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a brief, impulsive kiss. It was over in a second, leaving them both blinking in surprise. But that spark was the final blow to Divyash’s self-control.
He lunged forward, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. When his lips met hers this time, it wasn't a question—it was a demand. Avni let out a small, shaky breath and threw herself into it, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could bridge the distance between their souls.
It was desperate and messy. They were two people starving for each other, oblivious to anything but the heat of the moment. When Divyash’s hand tightened on her waist, a small moan escaped her, and he took the invitation, his tongue sliding against hers. It was sloppy, passionate, and perfect in its imperfection.
Eventually, the need for oxygen forced them apart. They stood in the circle of each other's arms, chests heaving, the room suddenly feeling too small and too loud with the sound of their breathing.
The silence returned, but this time it was colored by a sheepish sort of humor. Avni was the first to break it. "Did I... did I make you uncomfortable?"
"No," Divyash breathed, his brain still foggy. "I just... I don't know what came over me."
"I don't even know what to say," he added, looking at her flushed face.
Then, unexpectedly, Avni started to giggle. "Damn. That was incredibly embarrassing. I don’t think either of us actually knows how to kiss."
Divyash chuckled, the tension breaking into a warm glow. "Well, they do say practice makes perfect."
"We could try," she whispered, her eyes dancing.
The second time was different. It was slow, deliberate, and deeply passionate. When they finally broke away, breathless once more, Divyash leaned his forehead against hers. "That was definitely better."
"It was," Avni agreed, though she gently unlinked his hands from her waist. "But that’s enough for tonight. We really should sleep."
She climbed into her side of the bed, turning her back to him to hide the fierce blush she knew was there. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs, and her stomach felt like it was filled with a thousand fluttering wings.
Divyash switched off the lamp and lay down beside her, staring at the ceiling. He was afraid to close his eyes, worried that if he fell asleep, he’d wake up and find out this was all a cruel, beautiful dream. It was going to be a very long, very sleepless night for both of them.
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