Saavi had changed into a comfortable yet stylish orange angrakha, embellished with ivory leaf prints. The dupatta draped elegantly around her arms, looped at her elbows. She had resolved to carry the gift for Richa right away: a curated collection of her favorite international cosmetics and fragrances, custom-packed with thoughtful care in an antique make up box.

Straining slightly under the weight of the box, she made her way to the door. As she approached, her eye caught the welcome hamper on the study table, overflowing with sweets and delicacies from renowned brands. Unable to resist, she quickly unwrapped a chocolate and but into it, savoring its richness.

Richa was marrying Amit Gehlot, a member of a royal family steeped in generational wealth. Amit, now a successful venture capitalist, had invested in nearly fifty startups, amassing a fortune approaching half a billion. They had pulled out all the stops for the wedding—seven days of celebration for five hundred guests—making it one of the most extravagant events Saavi had ever attended. The hamper was merely a glimpse of the opulence that awaited her.

Saavi stepped out of the room, only to realize the key card was still nestled in its holder. Balancing the gift box in one hand and her sling bag on the other, she placed the half wrapped chocolate in foil between her lips to free her right hand. With a quick motion, she plucked the card from the holder and tucked it into her bag, shutting the door of the room behind her. Her other hand reclaimed the melting chocolate, its sweetness tempting her to finish it off at soonest. Just as she moved forward, tp maker her way down the passageway, she felt a sudden tug.

She turned around to find her dupatta had snagged in the door. She tugged at it, but it wouldn't budge. "Urgh," she huffed in frustration, popping the chocolate back between her lips to free her right hand. With her left hand still clutching the heavy gift box, she noticed her fingers were now stained with melted chocolate.

She scanned her surroundings, her mind racing for a solution, but hesitation clung to her every move. She didn't want to soil her new sling bag by digging for the key, nor risk smearing her fingers on the delicate fabric of her dress. Her gaze fell to the floor as she considered the possibility of bending down to set the gift box down—it would free her left hand. But then doubt crept in: could she bend down gracefully in heels? Was the floor clean enough? And, most pressingly, could she place the box down gently with just one hand, without letting it topple over?

"May I be of assistance?" A voice broke her concentration, and she turned to find a man dressed in a crisp white shirt and black denim jeans, smiling kindly.

"Yes, please..." she replied, raising her hands—still streaked with chocolate—as a silent plea for help. This was embarrassing. If her mother was around, she would never hear the end of it. Her mother often chided her for having the habits of a ten year old.

"Key?" he asked, his expression thoughtful.

"It's in my bag. If you could just hold this..." She shifted slightly, presenting the heavy gift box like a fragile treasure, her arm cradling it protectively.

"Okay," he said, accepting the box, but almost losing his grip halfway down, caught off guard by its unexpected weight.

"Careful!" she gasped, her heart lurching at the thought of the box tumbling. She'd spent nearly half her month's salary on it. Not to forget the week long time of waiting to have it delivered from across the ocean.

"Wow, this is heavy. Are you gifting her a baby or something?" he joked, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Saavi stared at him for a moment before a grin tugged at her lips at his really stupid presumption. "Why would you think it's a baby?"

"Because you asked me to be careful, and you were carrying it like one."

"You don't pack a baby in a box," she replied with a playful lift of her eyebrows. "Babies go in cradles."

"True," he said with a shrug, "but these days, women can do anything. You never know. So, what is it?"

"It's a delicate gift," she answered, shifting her weight as she used her left hand to dig into her bag for the key card. It was very less often she came across men who wore good perfumes. The man beside her wore a beautiful scent that was like the blast of freshness of an ocean.

"What's delicate and also heavy?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

She stole a brief glance at him—he was actually thinking about it, his expression turning thoughtful. Without missing a beat, she flashed the card and swiped it to unlock the door, freeing her dupatta in the process.

"Is it expensive too?" he asked, his voice curious.

"Depends. What's expensive to you?" She asked, turning to him.

"Hmm, as expensive as an iPhone?"

"Slightly less," she replied with a wry smile. "I'll just wash my hands." She quickly finished off the chocolate, popping the last piece into her mouth, then made her way to the bathroom.

When she stepped out, she noticed her washed undergarments hanging on a hook near the window, drying in plain sight, the messed up bed, and her different footwear scattered in front of the bed.

A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck, she should have organized her room before leaving. She quickly turned to the man, who was standing by the door, looking around her room too. Yikes!

He passed her a smile and then pressed his ear against the gift box wrapped in glossy red paper.

"It's not a living thing," she said with a slight edge to her voice. "Won't make a sound."

"Of course," he said, without missing a beat, still studying the box. "Just thinking... could be an analog clock, or a watch... something like that."

"You're very curious, aren't you?" She asked walling up to him.

"Yes, very," he admitted, grinning. "And you, you're too trusting, aren't you?" he teased, walking out of the room.

"Why would you say that?" she asked, stepping out as she carefully closed the door behind her.

"Mind your dupatta," he said gently, reaching out with his left hand to catch the end of her dupatta, which had nearly slipped into the crack of the door again, while his right effortlessly braced the weight of the gift against his body.

"You haven't even asked my name. You just left a pricey gift with a complete stranger," he pointed out, releasing her dupatta and patting the box affectionately, as though it were a child.

Saavi smiled as she turned toward him, her gaze meeting his light brown eyes, which seemed to sparkle with mischief. His face was framed by neatly trimmed stubble along his jawline. Well, he could be categorized as handsome, but his humor was average.

"My instinct tells me you can be trusted. What's your name?" she asked, her tone laced with playful challenge. She chose not to mention that everyone on this side of the property was a wedding guest—meaning he had to be one of them too. Why did guys usually assume that girls were dumb, waiting for a knight in shining armor to save them?

The man flashed a wide, amused grin. "Uh-huh. Tell me what's in the box first, and then I'll tell you my name."

Saavi smiled, her eyes narrowing slightly with amusement. "It's an antique box. Pretty easy to guess. But I suppose you're not as good at deductions as you think?" She studied his face, still lit up with that confident, playful grin. He didn't take offense.

There was something oddly familiar about him, though she couldn't place it. She was certain they'd never met before. She wouldn't forget if they had. Yet, something about him stirred a strange sense of recognition.

"Oh, how boring!" he said with a mock sigh. "But at least the groom's mother will love it. She has quite the collection already." With that, he turned and began walking toward the lift, the gift cradled carefully in his hands.

"Well then I hope so. I assume you're from the groom's side?" Saavi asked falling in step beside him. He didn't seem to mind to carry the gift for her. Honestly she didn't mind either, she could use that help. The last thing she wanted was to drop the gift or trip on her heels. She had had enough embarrassing moments in past five minutes.

"Yes, I'm the cousin who only appears during life's big events. You must be from the bride's side." He spoke, glancing sideways at her.

"How can you tell? I could be a friend of the groom's you've never heard of—since, let's face it, you never visited him often enough." She replied, glancing at him.

He gave her a brief nod with an impressed smile, "True, you could be, but my cousin Amit's a bit of an oddball. He hasn't had a close friendship with any girls since high school."

"Really?" Saavi muttered. "That's... strange. I should tell Richa about that."

"I'm guessing she probably knows by now. It's hard for a woman to spend time with a man and be willingly to marry him without knowing that he is an oddball."

"Yeah, she might," Saavi replied with a chuckle at his choice of words. Richa rarely mentioned anything personal about Amit. All she ever talked about were his accomplishments—his business ventures, his family's wealth.

"So, I'm guessing you're single, seeing as your room's in this wing." He said as they stepped into the lift.

Saavi's eyes momentarily widened. She had just met this man and he was already eager to confirm her relationship status. She chuckled and replied, "Yes, if we're going to keep talking about all these strange things." She couldn't decide if he was flirting or just being friendly with another guest.

"Oh, trust me, this is just the beginning," he said with a laugh.

"You never told me your name." Saavi glanced at him as they stepped out of the elevator and made their way into the grand courtyard of the hotel.

He turned slightly toward her, his eyes meeting hers. "Mihir. Mihir Gehlot. Room 505—just next door to yours."

"Why would you tell me your room number?" Saavi asked, her tone laced with amusement. She couldn't help but wonder if he was actually flirting.

"Well," he replied with a playful smile, "we're going to be neighbors for the next seven days. You never know when you might need a hand—like, say, with carrying antiques." To emphasize his point, he lifted the heavy box with ease.

Saavi chuckled softly. "I think I can handle it from here," she said, stepping forward to take the gift from his hands.

"Oh no," he protested with a friendly smile, "let me carry it until it reaches its destination. Where are you headed?"

Saavi glanced around, searching for her friends. "I'm not sure," she admitted.

"If you're looking for the bride, I know exactly where you'll find her."

Just as Saavi was about to pull out her phone to call one of her friends, she hesitated. They were probably busy with their husbands, and meeting Richa first seemed like a better idea.

"Alright then," she said with a resigned smile, "lead the way."

* * *

"Did you see that?" Tanya whispered, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. She stood behind the curtains, with Alia beside her, both watching intently.

"I did, Taanu. I told you, I had a feeling Saavi would find her match at this wedding." Alia replied, one hand resting on the yellow curtain, the other cradling her baby bump.

"She was actually smiling. I can't remember the last time she smiled at a real guy," Tanya muttered, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"It looked like they were flirting—he was smiling, too." Alia added with a broad grin, clearly enjoying the moment.

"Why are you both hiding behind the curtains?" Shweta's voice rang out from behind them, making both women startle and quickly turn around.

"Saavi was flirting with a guy," Tanya said, her voice low but filled with disbelief.

"And we chose to spy instead of spoiling their moment," Alia added, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

"He actually carried the gift for her. Cute, right?" Tanya remarked, her tone light but thoughtful.

"And she let him." Alia emphasized the point with a raised eyebrow. "Our feminist guru, the one who insists that women can open doors, pull out chairs, can carry their own stuff and drive themselves around... That same woman allowed a man to carry her gift."

"DUH, because it was heavy," Shweta replied, rolling her eyes with a smug smile. "She mentioned she was getting some antique box. I warned her against it, but once Saavi sets her mind on something, there's no changing it."

"Oh, now it makes sense why she'd be okay with a guy carrying it for her," Tanya muttered, a hint of understanding dawning.

"But they looked so cute together, and gave off this really happy vibe," Alia remarked dreamily. "I think they're going to be the Bunny and Naina of this wedding."

"Yeah, but I still think she should talk to Richa's first cousin. He's an investment banker and looks really cute. He's totally her type," Tanya chimed in.

"Sweetheart, Saavi doesn't have a type," Shweta reminded her with a knowing smile. "Where are they, anyway?" She peeked through the gap between the two curtains.

"He whisked her away," Alia replied, a wide grin spreading across her face. "And Saavi just hasn't discovered her type yet. Everyone has a type." She glanced at Tanya imparting her wisdom. 

"Well, then what are we doing here?" Shweta asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, shouldn't we follow them and find out more?" Tanya added eagerly.

"We could... but is it right?" Alia hesitated, her brow furrowing. "I mean, shouldn't we, like... give them some privacy?"

""It's Saavi, my dear Aalu. We need to be in the scene before she blows it and sends away yet another good guy," Shweta replied. "Besides, where was this concern for privacy when you four used to literally read my texts with my now-husband?"

"I think Shweta's right. Saavi needs a little nudge in the right direction," Tanya agreed. "Besides, I still remember how each of you spoiled my dates with Deepak. I've got a score to settle, too."

Shweta and Alia both laughed.

"You two made college so much fun," Alia said with a fond smile.

"Gosh, I have to agree," Shweta added. "Remember that time Deepak brought her a rose... with the thorns still intact? And gave it to her on Valentine's Day outside computer lab?"

"Okay, cut it. We made a pact to not talk about that.Time to go find Saavi," Tanya intervened, stepping between them. She looped an arm around each of their shoulders and steered them toward the direction where Saavi had disappeared with her mystery man.

* * *

"So, this is the wing where all the family stays, and where all the endless pre-wedding functions will take place," Mihir said, gesturing down the hallway. "Just head down this corridor and take the door to the right."

He gave a subtle signal to a servant standing nearby. "Carry this for Madam to the room, please," Mihir instructed, and the servant quickly stepped forward to take the gift from him.

Mihir glanced at his watch, then looked back at Saavi. "The bride should be in there, receiving gifts from her to-be in-laws. You'll blend right in," he added with a half-smile.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the event too?" Saavi asked, her gaze following the servant as he moved down the hallway.

"Sort of," Mihir shrugged. "But I'd much rather enjoy the fresh air outside than have my relatives breathing down my neck."

Saavi grinned. "I have to ask—are you the black sheep of the family?"

"Hmm," Mihir said, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, as though pondering deeply on the question. "You could say that."

Saavi nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "Well, then... I guess I won't be seeing much of you around."

"Oh no, you'll definitely see me around," Mihir replied, his smile widening with a hint of mischief. "Remember, I'm your neighbor." His grin held a promise, as if suggesting there would be more encounters to come.

Saavi chuckled softly. "Of course."

"Also," Mihir added casually, "if the family drama gets to be too much, you know where to find me. I know plenty of quiet spots around the city, places where you can escape all the wedding chaos."

Saavi raised her eyes to meet his, her gaze locking with his warm brown eyes. The air between them seemed to thrum with an unspoken energy. This was definitely flirting.

"I shall!" Saavi found herself saying, a smile tugging at her lips as her cheeks warmed at the realization. She quickly snapped back to reality and added, "...see you around!"

He gave a courteous nod, his smile laced with charm. "See you around, Saavi." He took a few steps back, and for a moment, it felt as if he were waiting for her to say something, before he finally turned and walked away.

Saavi let her guard down, smiling as he disappeared down the hallway. He was charming, she had to admit. Good-looking too. His smile was striking, and his eyes held a warmth that felt genuine. He had a way with words, effortless yet captivating.

And then there was his scent. It wasn't the overpowering cologne most men wore—the kind that hit you in the face like an announcement over a loudspeaker. No, his was subtle, lingering in the air like a quiet symphony. It was there, soft and inviting, but never loud.

Saavi blinked, realizing she was thinking far too much about him. She shook her head and began walking down the hallway, only to pause abruptly. She turned quickly, searching for him—but he was gone, leaving nothing behind but the faint echo of his presence.

She hadn't told him her name. How did he know it?

• — • — •

Would love to read you thoughts. 

P.S. How would you differentiate between a guy being friendly and a guy being subtly flirting?  —asking for a friend.

—Anami!♡