Sometimes, kindness isn’t in grand gestures—it’s in quiet moments where someone asks what you think.

Manik’s POV,

As Nandini left for the washroom, I was alone in her room. The silence felt heavier than I expected, so I decided to look around, letting my curiosity take over.

The room was spotless—too spotless like no one lived there. The desk was bare, with no book or personal item in sight. The bed was neatly made, and even the curtains were perfectly aligned. It didn’t feel like a room where someone spent their time.

On the dresser, I spotted a few photo frames. Moving closer, I picked one up. It was an old picture of her, probably from her school days. Her face looked younger, softer, and carefree. It struck me that this might’ve been from before she left for New York before her life changed.

The sound of the washroom door opening brought me back. I turned, and there she was, walking out with a towel in her hands, wiping her face. Her damp hair clung slightly to her neck.

“Your room looks… pretty clean,” I said, trying to make conversation.

She sighed and gave me a look, one that carried a hint of amusement but also something else I couldn’t quite place. “You mean empty, right?”

I stammered, caught off guard. “No, not that, but—”

She cut me off, her tone straightforward. “I don’t live here.”

Her words hung in the air, leaving me confused. What did she mean? Before I could ask, she turned away, as if dismissing the subject entirely.

I was about to press her on it when the door suddenly creaked open. A small boy burst in, his tiny feet padding across the room as he ran straight to Nandini.

“Bua!” he shouted gleefully, throwing his arms around her.

I watched as she crouched down, enveloping him in a warm hug. Her entire demeanor shifted—her usually reserved, professional self-melted away, replaced by a softer, playful side I hadn’t seen before.

She tickled him lightly, making him giggle, and then looked up at me. “Ansh, say hello,” she said, her voice gentle but firm.

The boy turned to me; his wide eyes suddenly shy. I crouched slightly to his level, offering him a smile. “Hi, Ansh.”

He clung to Nandini’s leg, hiding his face briefly before peeking out again. I chuckled, trying to ease his nervousness. “That’s a great name you have, buddy.”

Encouraged by Nandini’s nod, he finally stepped forward. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but clear.

I smiled warmly. “I’m Manik. Nice to meet you.”

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment, and then asked, “You’re going to marry my bua?”

The question caught me completely off guard. I froze, glancing at Nandini, who looked equally startled. For a second, neither of us said anything, the awkwardness thick in the air. Finally, I cleared my throat.

“Yes,” I said simply, nodding.

Ansh studied me for a moment before breaking into a grin. “Okay!” he said, his acceptance is both surprising and amusing.

Before I could say anything more, he gasped. “Oh, no! I forgot. Mumma told me to call you both downstairs!”

Nandini smiled, ruffling his hair. “Well then, let’s go.”

Ansh grabbed her hand, and she led the way to the door, glancing back at me briefly. “Come on,” she said, her voice soft.

I followed them out, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and warmth. Watching Nandini interact with Ansh was like seeing a different side of her—a glimpse of the person she was behind all the layers she kept hidden.

As we made our way downstairs, I couldn’t help but think about the many questions I still had about her. There’s so much more to you, Miss Murthy, I thought silently, stealing one last glance at her as she laughed softly at something Ansh said.

Manik’s POV ends.

Nandini’s POV,

As Manik and I descended the stairs, my nerves were already on edge. I had barely recovered from the awkwardness of bringing him to my room, and now the thought of sitting with everyone to discuss marriage was making my heart race.

The sight before us made me pause. His parents were seated comfortably, chatting with my family as if they’d known each other forever. It was unsettling how smoothly this was all going for them while I felt like I was being dragged into a storm.

Taking a deep breath, I walked forward. First, I bent down to take blessings from his parents. They smiled warmly, and Aunty pulled me into a gentle hug.

“How are you, dear?” she asked, her voice kind and motherly.

“I’m good, Aunty,” I replied softly.

She frowned slightly. “Aunty? You’ll have to start calling me something else soon, Nandini.”

I smiled awkwardly, unsure how to respond, and glanced toward Manik, who seemed amused at my discomfort. I was about to say something when Bhai entered with the priest.

The mood immediately shifted as everyone stood up to greet the priest. He smiled at me, blessing me as I joined my hands in respect. Soon, the formalities began, and the priest was handed both mine and Manik’s horoscopes.

I felt myself holding my breath as he scanned the pages, his brows furrowing in concentration. “The match is good,” he finally announced, making everyone exhale in relief. “There are two possible dates for marriage—one after a month, and another after six months.”

I closed my eyes briefly, sending a silent prayer to the heavens. Six months. Please, let it be six months.

But, of course, the universe seemed determined to test me.

“One month is perfect,” Dad said confidently, not even sparing me a glance.

I clenched my fists, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting. Perfect for whom? Certainly not for me!

Uncle nodded in agreement. “Yes, one month seems reasonable. What do you think, Manik?”

I turned to look at him, my heart pounding. Surely, he’d say something. He wouldn’t just agree, would he?

Mr. Malhotra, ever calm and composed, nodded. “One month is fine with me, but shouldn’t you ask Miss Murthy about it?”

I blinked, stunned. Did he just… defer to me? My head snapped toward him, searching his face for some hidden agenda, but all I saw was his usual, unreadable expression.

Aunty turned to me, her eyes soft with concern. “Nandini, are you okay with this?”

Before I could answer, my father gave me a sharp look, one that clearly said, don’t create a scene. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of everyone’s expectations pressing down on me.

“I’m fine,” I said quietly, though the words tasted bitter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bhabhi and Bhai exchange a knowing glance. Bhabhi’s small smile gave me a sliver of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to ease the tightness in my chest.

The priest continued, unbothered by my inner turmoil. “For the engagement, I suggest next Wednesday. It is an auspicious day.”

“Next Wednesday it is,” Uncle declared, and everyone nodded in agreement.

Mom and Aunty quickly handed the priest his Dakshina, thanking him for his blessings. As he left, he turned to Manik and me, his smile kind yet formal. “May you both have a prosperous and happy married life.”

I bowed my head, whispering a polite thank you, though my heart wasn’t in it.

As soon as the priest left, Uncle spoke up again. “We’ll finalize the arrangements on call. There’s no need to delay the planning.”

“Absolutely,” Mom chimed in. “Neyonika, we’ll need to go shopping for the engagement soon.”

Aunty clapped her hands excitedly. “We should go tomorrow! That way, we’ll have plenty of time to get everything sorted.”

I wanted to groan. Shopping with the entire family was the last thing I wanted to do, especially after today’s ordeal.

Aunty turned to us. “Manik, Nandini, you both will join us tomorrow for shopping.”

Before I could protest, Manik and I blurted out in unison, “But office—”

Manik quickly added, “Mom, I have a meeting in the morning. I can’t leave it, and Nandini has to join me for it.”

Aunty sighed in mock exasperation. “Rudraksh, talk some sense into them.”

Bhai grinned. “Aunty, let them finish their meeting. They can join you in the afternoon.”

Aunty’s face brightened. “Fine. But no excuses. You both have to come.”

Mr. Malhotra and I exchanged a glance before nodding in reluctant agreement.

Bhabhi clapped her hands. “Alright! Now that’s settled, let’s have dinner.”

We all made our way to the dining area, and I couldn’t help but feel like a spectator in my own life. Decisions were being made for me left and right, and all I could do was smile and nod.

As I sat down at the table, I sent another silent prayer to the heavens. Please, let tomorrow be less chaotic. But deep down, I knew that was asking for too much.

The dinner had been endless. Smiling, nodding, pretending to be fine—it was exhausting. I sat stiffly, barely tasting the food on my plate as conversations flowed around me. Bhai and Bhabhi had been kind, their subtle glances and supportive smiles offering some relief, but it wasn’t enough to ease my discomfort.

As soon as dessert was over, Uncle stood up, pushing his chair back. “It’s getting late. We should leave now.”

I took the opportunity to speak up, my voice steady but firm. “I’m also going.”

Aunty looked up from where she was placing her napkin down, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Going? Where?”

“I’m going back to my home,” I said simply, gathering my things.

“Your home?” Her confusion deepened. “You don’t live here?”

I felt all eyes on me. I took a measured breath, trying not to sound defensive. “No, Aunty. I’ve taken an apartment.”

I could see the surprise etched on both Uncle and Aunty's faces. Uncle leaned forward slightly; his tone was curious. “Why don’t you live with your family? Isn’t this your home?”

Before I could even open my mouth to explain, Dad jumped in, his voice smooth and diplomatic. “Nandini wants to live independently. She’s been doing well on her own, but she does come here often to visit us.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his dramatics. Visit? More like endure. But I simply nodded along, not wanting to stir up anything in front of everyone.

Uncle and Aunty exchanged a glance before nodding slowly. “That’s admirable,” Uncle said, though I could hear the confusion in his voice.

Just when I thought the matter was settled, Mom chimed in. “It’s late, Nandini. Why don’t you stay here tonight? There’s no need to go back so late.”

I stiffened, trying to keep my expression neutral. “No, I can’t. I have work to finish for tomorrow’s office.”

Dad, ever the dramatist, added, “It’s late, Nandini. Why not stay the night and leave in the morning?”

My patience was wearing thin. I didn’t want to create a scene, but the thought of staying here even for a night was unbearable. Keeping my tone calm but firm, I said, “Mr. Malhotra will drop me.”

For a moment, there was silence. I didn’t miss the way Manik’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide in surprise. What? Did he think I’d stay here and play along with this charade?

Uncle and Aunty looked at each other and nodded. “That’s a good idea. Manik, drop her off on your way home,” Aunty said as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world.

Mr. Malhotra hesitated for a fraction of a second but nodded. “Okay.”

His parents seemed satisfied, bidding goodnight to everyone before leaving. I exhaled softly, relieved to be one step closer to getting out of this house.

I turned to Ansh, who was still playing with his toy car on the floor. Kneeling, I ruffled his hair and said, “Bye, champ. Be good.”

He looked up with his innocent eyes, smiling brightly. “Bye, Bua! Come soon, okay?”

Bhabhi hugged me tightly, whispering, “Take care,” before stepping back. Bhai gave me a knowing look but said nothing, his silent support comforting.

With a quick wave, I walked toward the door, Manik following closely behind. The moment we stepped outside, the cool night air hit me, and I felt like I could finally breathe again.

Manik unlocked the car, and I slid into the passenger seat, fastening my seatbelt. The silence was thick as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

I stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past. My mind was a chaotic mix of emotions—frustration, relief, and a touch of guilt for dragging Manik into this.

The car was silent, save for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of wind outside. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city blur past. The day had been overwhelming—an endless parade of forced smiles, awkward conversations, and stifling expectations.

As the cool glass pressed against my temple, my thoughts wandered back to dinner, to the priest announcing the dates, and to how I’d inwardly prayed for the six-month option. The idea of getting married so soon felt like a whirlwind I wasn’t prepared for.

And then there was him.

I couldn’t help but recall how he had subtly shifted the focus to me, asking if I was okay with the earlier date. It wasn’t something I had expected from him—someone I had pegged as indifferent and brusque. But in that moment, he’d done something no one else in that room had: he’d considered me.

Turning slightly, I glanced at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, his expression stoic as he focused on the road. The streetlights painted fleeting patterns on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the calm determination in his eyes.

Before I could stop myself, the words spilled out. “Mr. Malhotra… thank you.”

He blinked, briefly turning his head to glance at me before looking back at the road. His voice was steady, yet curious. “For what?”

I hesitated, feeling slightly foolish for even bringing it up. “For… for dropping me off. And for considering my opinion about the dates.” I paused before adding, “Also, sorry for the trouble. It’s so late, and you have to—”

“There’s no need for thank you or sorry,” he interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact.

I looked at him, surprised by his bluntness.

“You asked me to drop you, so I’m dropping you,” he continued, his voice calm. “And don’t apologize—it’s not a trouble. If it were, I wouldn’t be here.”

I couldn’t help but stare at him, unsure how to respond. There was something about the way he said it, so practical yet oddly reassuring.

He glanced at me again, briefly meeting my eyes before focusing back on the road. “As for the marriage dates… We’re both getting married. It’s not just about me; the decision should be ours, not mine alone. I can’t decide on your behalf.”

His words landed heavily, sinking into the corners of my heart. I felt a lump rise in my throat, overwhelmed by the unexpected kindness. “I… I didn’t think…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish.

“I didn’t think you’d care about my opinion,” I admitted softly, looking away.

For a moment, there was silence between us. Then he spoke, his tone quieter, almost thoughtful. “I noticed you didn’t seem happy about the earlier date.”

I turned to him sharply, startled by his observation. Had I been that transparent?

“It was written all over your face,” he added, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly looked out the window to avoid his gaze. “I wasn’t trying to make it obvious,” I muttered under my breath.

“You didn’t have to,” he said simply, and for a moment, the air between us felt lighter.

I bit my lip, trying to process everything he’d said. I hadn’t expected this level of understanding—or attentiveness—from him. It was disarming in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence. I kept my eyes on the passing streets, though my thoughts were firmly stuck on the man sitting beside me.

When the car finally slowed and came to a stop in front of my apartment building, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door. The cool night air greeted me as I stepped out.

I turned back to him, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “Thank you, again. For everything.”

His eyes met mine, and for the briefest moment, they softened. “Goodnight, Miss Murthy.”

I nodded, offering him a small smile. “Goodnight.”

As I walked into my building and up the stairs to my apartment, I felt an unfamiliar warmth settle in my chest. Today had been chaotic and exhausting, but somewhere in the midst of it, there had been a moment of understanding—a fleeting glimpse of something that made me feel a little less alone.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Manik Malhotra, you’re full of surprises.

Nandini's POV ends.

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Kiara ❤️❤️