As the day wound down, Mira returned home, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the quaint house she shared with her family. Pushing open the front door, she was greeted by the familiar sounds of music drifting through the air, mingling with the savoury aromas emanating from the kitchen.

"Hey, Amara," Mira called out, stepping into the living room where her sister was sprawled on the couch, earbuds in, bobbing her head to the beat of a song. Amara looked up and gave a quick wave, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hey, sis! How was the studio today?" Amara asked, pulling out one earbud to hear Mira's response better.

Mira shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. "It was good. Busy as usual. Oh, and guess who showed up again?"

Amara's eyes widened with curiosity. "Who?"

"Shubman," Mira replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "He came in all flustered, saying he needed to buy some brushes."

Amara raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across her face. "Brushes, huh? Sounds like someone has a little crush."

Mira felt a blush creep up her cheeks, though she tried to brush off her sister's teasing. "Oh, stop it. He was just being nice."

"Sure he was," Amara said, winking playfully. "Did he ask for your number?"

Mira hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, he did. Yesterday."

Amara's grin widened. "And did you give it to him?"

"Maybe," Mira replied, trying to hide her smile.

Before Amara could tease her further, their mother called out from the kitchen, her voice warm and inviting. "Mira, is that you? Dinner's almost ready!"

Mira made her way to the kitchen, the comforting scent of spices and herbs filling the air. Her mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot of curry, her movements fluid and practised.

"Hi, Mom," Mira greeted, stepping up to give her mother a quick hug. "It smells amazing in here."

Her mother smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you, dear. How was your day at the studio?"

"It was good," Mira replied, leaning against the counter as she watched her mother cook. "Busy, but good."

"That's wonderful to hear," her mother said, a note of pride in her voice. "And did anything interesting happen today?"

Mira hesitated for a moment, then decided to share. "Actually, yes. Shubman came by again."

Her mother raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Oh? The cricketer boy?"

Mira nodded. "Yes, him. He came in to buy some brushes, but I think he was really just looking for an excuse to see me."

Her mother chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sounds like someone is smitten."

"Mom," Mira protested, though she couldn't help but smile.

"Just be careful, dear," her mother advised gently. "It's wonderful to meet new people and make connections, but always remember to protect your heart."

"I will, Mom," Mira promised, feeling a warmth in her chest at her mother's words.

As they sat down to dinner, the lively chatter of the family filled the room, the clinking of cutlery and the fragrant aroma of the curry mingled to create a warm, homey atmosphere. Mira's dad joined them, having just returned from work, and the family settled into their usual routine of sharing stories and laughter.

"So, tell us more about this Shubman," her mom prompted with a teasing grin, clearly eager for more details.

Mira rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "There's not much to tell, really. He's just this guy who came to the studio twice. He's nice."

Amara's grin widened. "Nice, huh? You don't get flustered over just 'nice' guys."

Mira opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted by her father's curious tone. "Shubman Gill, the cricketer? Isn't he quite famous?"

"Yes, Dad," Mira replied, a touch of exasperation in her voice. "But he's also just a regular guy. He came to buy a painting for his sister's birthday."

Her dad nodded thoughtfully. "Well, he must have good taste if he chose your studio."

Mira's mother chimed in, her voice gentle yet teasing. "And if he's coming back, there must be something more to it."

Mira sighed, feeling the familiar warmth of her family's teasing. "Alright, alright. Maybe he likes my company too. Can we drop it now?"

"Of course," her dad answered. 

"Wait, also, did you tell them about Abhishek?" Mira teased, making Amara go red. "Di, what the heck?" she exclaimed.

"As in Sharma? Abhishek Sharma?" their dad asked as his daughters nodded. 

"He's cute, dad. He's like this shy, softie, who bumped into me and ended up dropping the paintbrushes. And just when we thought, nothing else would happen, he ended up pushing the canvases down, like, he's so adorable when he's clumsy," Amara gushed.

Mira, and their parents, just smiled as Amara ranted out. They knew what this meant. Amara, only and only ranted, when she liked something, or as of now, someone, a lot, no matter, the duration of the meet. 

Amara then noticed the look on her family's face, making her cover her face, with her hands. "Oh god, I didn't just do that," she mumbled, as everyone erupted in laughter.

After dinner, Mira helped her mother with the dishes, the two of them working in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Her mother glanced at her sideways, a knowing smile on her lips. "You like him, don't you?"

Mira blushed, focusing intently on the plate she was scrubbing. "He's... interesting. And sweet. But I don't know him that well yet. I just, met him yesterday."

Her mother nodded, drying a plate with a towel. "That's a good way to start. Take your time, get to know him. There's no rush."

Mira appreciated her mother's wisdom, feeling a sense of reassurance. "Thanks, Mom."

"So, tell me more about this Shubman," she prompted, a mischievous glint in her eye as she placed a jar inside. "Is he cute?"

Mira rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide her smile. "He's... well, yeah, he's cute," she admitted, her cheeks tinged with pink. "And he's really nice. A bit awkward, but in a charming way."

Her mother raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Awkward, you say? Sounds like he might be a bit smitten with you, Mira."

Mira shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I don't know, maybe. He did ask for my number and Instagram ID yesterday."

"Well, that's a good sign," she said, winking at her daughter. "What's he like? Aside from being a famous cricketer, I mean."

Mira thought for a moment, recalling her interactions with Shubman. "He's sweet and genuine. He seems a bit shy, but he's really earnest. You can tell he's not just putting on a front. And he cares a lot about his sister; he came to buy a painting for her birthday."

"Sounds like a good guy," her mother remarked, nodding approvingly. "It's nice to meet someone who values family."

"Yeah, it is." Mira smiled.

Meanwhile, Amara who had retreated to her room, was scrolling through Instagram, while lying on her stomach on her bed. She then decided to go through, Abhishek's profile. "Nothing bad, in a background check right?" she muttered to herself before typing in his name on the search bar. 

His name was the first one that popped up, with a verified tick. "He likes puppies!" she whisper-yelled, seeing a picture of him holding a puppy. "Oh damn, this guy seems so genuine," she muttered, and that's when disaster struck.

She pressed the like button on a photo, posted 3 years ago. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck" she muttered, before undoing it. "Damn it, no use. He would have gotten the notification, oh lord," she whined,  covering her face with the pillow.

And before she knew it, her phone notification went off.

Abhi

"Did you just, like a post of mine from 3 years ago?"

AW MAN, NOT NOW, she thought, before quickly typing back a response. 

sorry sorry sorry

nah its chill. i was going through your profile too

oh?

mhmm

you look
drop dead
gorgeous

read 10:32 pm

amara?

amara?

did i say anything wrong?

girl, where did you go?

sorry

my phone fell

and the screen cracked

[ she lied. she was shik shak shok ]

ah okay

anyway

i have practice tomorrow

good night!

good night!!

soup rants!

dun dun dun

and here we have our third chapter!

mira's parents are so cute!!

and amara and abhishek >> 

anyway do comment your thoughts!

love, soup!