The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Mahak and Faris stepped out of a boutique in central London. She had insisted on checking the new season's accessories despite the icy breeze cutting through the streets. Faris followed silently, hands in his jacket pockets, his breath visible in the cold air.

Mahak walked a few steps ahead, her posture stiff, her mood unmistakably sour. Faris had noticed her growing irritability throughout the day-the sharp replies, the narrowed eyes, and her tendency to huff under her breath. But now, as she stomped down the sidewalk, it was impossible to ignore.

"What's wrong?" he asked finally, his tone calm but curious.

"Nothing," she snapped, not slowing her pace.

"Mahak," he said, his voice more firm. "Tum aise behave kar rahi ho jaise kisi ne tumhare favorite bag collection ko ban kar diya ho." (You're acting like someone banned your favorite bag collection.)

She whirled around, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. "Faris, tum please mujhe irritate karna band karo," she said, glaring at him. (Faris, can you please stop irritating me?)

He raised an eyebrow, surprised but not offended. "Mujhe lagta hai yeh irritation meri wajah se nahi hai," he said, tilting his head. (I think this irritation isn't because of me.)

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned away, muttering something he couldn't hear.

"Mahak, seriously, kya hua?" he asked, stepping closer. (Mahak, seriously, what happened?)

She spun back to face him, her eyes flashing. "Periods hua, Faris! Okay? Aur tumhare saath yeh endless errands aur stupid weather mujhe aur zyada cranky kar rahe hain." (It's my periods, Faris! Okay? And running errands with you in this stupid weather is making me even more cranky.)

Faris blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. Then, as the words sank in, he felt a laugh bubble up. He quickly bit it back, knowing it wouldn't help.

"Okay," he said gently, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Samajh gaya. Tum grumpy ho, aur uska reason hai." (Got it. You're grumpy, and there's a reason.)

Mahak rolled her eyes, brushing past him. "Main ghar chal kar ja rahi hoon," she declared. "Tumhe aur mere heels ko tolerate karne ki zarurat nahi." (I'm walking home. You don't need to tolerate me or my heels.)

Faris stared after her for a moment, then sighed. "Mahak, ruko," he called. (Mahak, stop.)

"No," she replied without looking back, her pace quickening.

"Mahak," he tried again, his tone more assertive this time. "Main tumhe is weather mein walk karne nahi de raha hoon." (I'm not letting you walk in this weather.)

"I don't care, Faris!" she shot back. "Mujhe tumhare permission ki zarurat nahi." (I don't need your permission.)

Faris let out a breath and muttered to himself, "Toh tumhe handle karne ka dusra tareeqa dhoondhna padega." (Then I'll need to handle you another way.)

Before she could take another step, she felt his hands grip her waist. "Faris, kya kar rahe ho tum?!" she yelped as he hoisted her over his shoulder effortlessly. (Faris, what are you doing?!)

"Tumhare tantrum ka best solution," he replied, striding toward his car. (The best solution to your tantrum.)

"Put me down, Faris!" she demanded, pounding her fists lightly against his back.

"Nope," he said, his voice annoyingly calm. "Tum already exhausted lag rahi ho. Main tumhe aur stress lene nahi dunga." (You already look exhausted. I'm not letting you stress yourself more.)

People on the street stopped to stare, some smiling, others hiding their laughter. Mahak's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Faris, seriously! Log dekh rahe hain!" (Faris, seriously! People are watching!)

"Let them watch," he said nonchalantly. "Humein hero aur heroine samajh kar enjoy karenge." (They'll think we're a hero and heroine and enjoy the show.)

By the time they reached the car, Mahak had stopped protesting, her energy drained. Faris gently set her down, opening the passenger door for her.

"Ab, please sit," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Tumhare comfort meri priority hai, chahe tum grumpy ho ya nahi." (Now, please sit. Your comfort is my priority, whether you're grumpy or not.)

Mahak glared at him, but her expression softened as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. She slid into the seat without another word.

The drive home was quiet, the tension replaced by a strange calm. Faris glanced at her occasionally, noting the way her head leaned against the window, her eyes closed.

When they arrived, he gently nudged her shoulder. "Mahak, ghar aa gaya." (Mahak, we're home.)

She stirred, blinking up at him. Without a word, he helped her out of the car and into the house.

As she settled onto the sofa, Faris returned with a warm water bottle and handed it to her.

"Yeh lo," he said, his voice light. "Tumhari grumpiness ka solution." (Here. The solution to your grumpiness.)

Mahak looked at him, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. "Tum annoying ho, Faris," she said softly. (You're annoying, Faris.)

He grinned. "Aur tum impossible ho." (And you're impossible.)

But as he sat beside her, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face, neither of them minded the labels.