CHAPTER LII
Mission: Love Confession
Mia and Sasha had dragged me out tonight, insisting I join them and Sita at a restaurant. They called it the beginning of our mission. Mission: Love Confession.
I don't know what tricks those two have planned for me, what schemes they'll pull to push me closer to Sita—but for the first time in so long, I feel a spark of nervous excitement. They promised me one thing: if this works, if Sita finally begins to see me not just as a friend but as someone she could love, I must reward them with a celebration.
And I swear, if that miracle happens—if Sita truly accepts me as her wife, as her partner, as her "husband material"—then I won't just give them a party. I'll take responsibility for their wedding myself. I'll make sure Mia and Sasha's love story is celebrated the way it deserves to be.
But tonight… tonight my heart beats only for Sita.
She's sitting across from me, and for a moment, the entire world falls away. She's wearing a red dress—the kind of red that ignites fire and softens hearts all at once. Red, my favorite color. And suddenly, I can't look anywhere else. The restaurant noise, the clinking of glasses, the dim lights—all blur into nothing, because in that moment, it's only her.
I want to reach across the table, to pull her close, to kiss her so deeply that all the words I've swallowed for years will finally spill into her lips. I want to hold her face in my hands and confess it all—every poem, every hidden message, every prayer that had her name written in it.
But instead, I just smile, letting my eyes linger a second too long, hoping she feels the weight of everything I cannot yet say.
And in my heart, a song rises softly, one that carries all the love I cannot voice aloud:
Ask not, my beloved, what dwells within my heart—
For it is drowning, completely consumed,
in the nearness of your love.
Sita and I were finally ready to leave. I turned to her, heart pounding, and held out my hand. For a second, I thought she might hesitate, but instead, she slipped her fingers into mine with such softness that it nearly stole my breath away.
And that's when it happened—again.
Every single time Sita holds my hand, it feels like a current runs straight through me, jolting me alive. My heart doesn't just beat—it races like it's competing in some invisible marathon. And honestly? I don't understand it.
If people called this the side effect of having a dirty mind, I'd protest—loudly! Because this wasn't about anything dirty. This was something purer, stranger, deeper. Something that made me feel alive in a way nothing else ever had.
She glanced at me then, her eyes meeting mine. God, those eyes—deeper than oceans, carrying storms and serenity all at once. Her lips, soft as lotus petals, curved in a way that made me want to forget every language I knew and only speak in the poetry of her smile. And her dimples—don't get me started. Those dimples were dangerous weapons, ready to kill me softly with every glance.
I swear, the universe has no business creating someone this beautiful and then letting her hold my hand like this.
I wanted to say something witty, something that would make her laugh and also confess what I was feeling. Instead, my heart betrayed me and whispered:
"Your eyes have made me worthy of love,
Oh heartbeat of my soul, stay with me—
For I have finally found my destination in you."
Of course, I didn't say it out loud. I mean, imagine blurting poetry in the middle of a walk. She'd probably laugh at me—or worse, think I was being dramatic. (Okay, fine, I am dramatic. But still!)
Instead, I just held her hand tighter, silently hoping that maybe she could feel what I couldn't yet put into words.
And in the back of my mind, a mischievous voice whispered: Careful, Ved. One more second of looking at those dimples and you'll end up kissing her right here, in the middle of the street.
Sita and I slipped into the car, the quiet hum of the engine filling the air as we pulled onto the road. The streets outside glittered with neon signs and passing headlights, but all I could see, all I could feel, was her.
Then fate decided to play its little trick on us—red signal. We stopped. And that's when it happened.
Sita turned toward me, her hand brushing mine, resting softly on top. The warmth of her skin seeped into me like fire melting through ice.
"Ved…" she asked, her voice so tender I almost forgot to breathe, "how do I look tonight?"
Look? Just look? My mind screamed in protest. Sita, you don't look—you conquer. You don't enter a room—you set it on fire.
But instead of saying that, I just stared at her, because words felt too small.
Inside my head, my thoughts were fighting like two teenagers in a video game:
Dirty mind Ved: Kiss her. Right now. Hold her and never let go.
Decent mind Ved: Behave! She only asked how she looks, not for your entire lifetime commitment!
Dirty mind Ved: Shut up, this is destiny!
Her fingers shifted slightly against mine, and I swear a current shot straight up my arm, short-circuiting my brain. Her face leaned closer, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Those lotus-petal lips… those ocean-deep eyes… that angelic face that made me question whether God had spent extra hours sculpting her.
I could barely hear myself think. My hand betrayed me, moving to the back of her head, pulling her closer.
This was it.
This was the moment.
The kind of moment love songs and Bollywood endings were made for.
And then—HONK!!!
The horn blared so loudly it felt like even the stars flinched.
I froze, wide-eyed. Sita jerked back like she had just witnessed a crime scene. Her hands flew to her chest. "Ved!" she gasped. "You scared me! For a second I thought… you were about to kiss me!"
Her voice cracked on the word kiss, and that single syllable made my entire body combust with heat.
I sat there like a deer caught in headlights, red-faced and gripping the steering wheel like my life depended on it. Meanwhile, my brain had fully given up:
Dirty mind Ved: Idiot. One inch closer and you would've been in heaven.
Decent mind Ved: At least you didn't make a fool of yourself.
Dirty mind Ved: Bro. You literally honked instead of kissing. You invented a new level of fool.
Sita tilted her head, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "Your face," she teased softly, "is as red as my dress."
I groaned, covering my eyes with one hand. "Great. Now even my face is color-coordinated with you."
She laughed—a soft, melodic sound that made my embarrassment worth it. Then, with that mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she leaned just a little closer and whispered, "So… were you really about to kiss me, Ved?"
And there it was—the knockout punch.
My throat went dry, my palms sweaty. I wanted to say no, but the word refused to come out. I wanted to say yes, but my pride begged me not to. So instead, I muttered, "I… uh… maybe. Or maybe I was just trying to scare the traffic light into turning green."
Sita laughed so hard she nearly doubled over, her hand still resting on mine, her hair falling across her face. And in that moment, with her laughter filling the car, I knew the truth.
I would kiss her someday.
Just not when the horn decides to third-wheel.
To be continue....