"Aditi can you hurry up? I can't wait for you all day!" Shubman's shout echoed through the apartment as he exhaled sharply, sinking deeper into the couch, the last threads of his patience wearing thin.

"You know what? Patience is a virtue. And I can clearly see that you're still waiting for that update." Aditi replied, tumbling out of her room, fondling with her bag and phone.

"This isn't about me not being patient. You asked— no you forced me to accompany you shopping for our new apartment and now that I just told you to hurry up, I'm the bad guy now? Wow!" The Gill boy complained, following Aditi who was heading towards the main door.

"Jo hona tha ho gaya. Chalo ab." The girl replied, pulling him out before locking the door to the apartment.

The drive to the mall was a comedy of silence. Shubman kept stealing glances at Aditi, who was scrolling through her phone with the intensity of someone decoding secret government files. She, on the other hand, was pretending he didn't exist, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips every time he sighed dramatically.

"You know," Shubman said finally, breaking the silence, "if you're this dedicated to your phone, I should've just sent it shopping instead of me."

Aditi didn't even look up. "Well, my phone doesn't complain every two seconds, so yes, it would've been a better choice."

Shubman's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "You do realize I'm doing you a favor, right? I could've been at practice right now. Or, I don't know, watching something remotely interesting instead of wandering around home decor stores."

She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh please, as if you're not going to benefit. You live in that apartment too, Gill Sahab. You think the sofa magically appeared out of thin air?"

"Well, considering how much effort you put into deciding which shade of beige the sofa should be, I honestly thought it might."

Aditi rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile that escaped. She turned back to her phone, ignoring the warm flutter in her chest. Why does he have to be so annoyingly witty?

At the mall, Shubman trudged behind Aditi as she made a beeline for the home furnishings section. He barely had time to blink before she started rattling off options to a bewildered store assistant.

"This coffee table or this one?" she asked, pointing at two nearly identical wooden tables.

Shubman stared at them blankly. "They're literally the same."

"They're not the same," she said, exasperated. "This one is walnut, and this one is mahogany."

"They both look brown to me." Shubman deadpanned.

Aditi turned to him with narrowed eyes, her expression faltering. "Why are men like this? You all see two colors: blue and not-blue."

"Hey, that's not true," Shubman countered, crossing his arms. "There's also red, yellow, and the color of regret I'm currently feeling for coming here."

The store assistant coughed awkwardly, and Aditi sighed, waving Shubman away. "Fine. Go sulk in the corner of the store while I save our apartment from looking like a bachelor pad."

Shubman, instead of sulking, found himself wandering toward a bizarre collection of decorative lamps. He picked one up—a hideous, oversized thing with a giraffe print—and carried it back to Aditi, who was debating between two sets of cushions.

"Look," he said with a mischievous grin. "I found the perfect piece to tie the room together."

Aditi turned and stared at the monstrosity in his hands. "Shubman, no."

"Shubman, yes," he replied, holding it up proudly. "It's bold. It's quirky. It's... terrifying. I love it."

"And I hate it. Go put it back before I actually regret marrying you," she said, biting back a laugh.

Shubman smirked, setting the lamp down. "You already regret it. You just haven't admitted it yet."

Her smile faltered for a moment, and she quickly turned away, pretending to examine a set of curtains. "That's not true," she said softly, almost to herself.

His playful expression faded, his face now laced with confusion. "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, brushing it off. "Just pick a lampshade or something and stop distracting me."

As they finally approached the checkout counter, their cart piled high with items Shubman didn't recognize and would likely never use, Aditi tugged on his sleeve.

"What now?" Shubman asked, sighing.

"I'm hungry," she said simply.

"And I'm exhausted," he replied, rubbing his temples. "But sure, let's feed the queen."

Over lunch at the food court, Aditi took a bite of her burger and glanced at Shubman. He was distractedly scrolling through his phone, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"You know," she said suddenly, "you're not as annoying as I thought you'd be."

He looked up, surprised. "Is that your idea of a compliment?"

"Take it or leave it," she replied, flipping her hair and moving to her iced tea.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Well, for what it's worth, you're not as impossible as I thought you'd be either. Except when you're picking cushions."

She narrowed her eyes. "Careful, Mr. Gill, or I'll pick something in neon pink just to mess with you."

He laughed, and for a moment, the tension between them seemed to melt away. The age gap, the forced marriage, the awkward beginnings—they all felt less significant.

As they walked back to the car, Aditi suddenly stopped and turned to him. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Your welcome. What for though?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"For putting up with me today," she said, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

He smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Well, somebody has to. Might as well be me."

As they drove home, the silence in the car was no longer awkward. It was warm, filled with unspoken words and quiet understanding. Shubman glanced at Aditi out of the corner of his eye and thought, Maybe this isn't as bad as I thought.

And Aditi, staring out the window, thought the exact same thing.