The house was quiet when they returned—too quiet. Not the kind that felt cold or empty, but the kind that wrapped around them like a shared secret. Like the walls had heard the waves and were now holding their breath.
Shruti stepped in first, her dupatta slipping slightly off one shoulder. She didn't fix it. Her fingers lingered by her side, brushing the fabric absently, mind still tangled in the shoreline… in his voice… in that kiss.
Arjun entered behind her, locking the door with a gentle click. He didn't turn on the light. The faint glow from the streetlamp filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across the floor. It was enough.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The hum of the refrigerator in the corner, the tick of the wall clock—small sounds filled the silence like a steady heartbeat.
Shruti slowly padded toward the bed and sat down, stretching her arms over her head with a quiet sigh. "My body feels like it walked a hundred miles."
Arjun smiled faintly and leaned on the wall near the door. "Emotionally, we did."
She glanced up at him, her smile shy, almost bashful. "Yeah…"
They exchanged a look—half amusement, half wonder. Like they were still processing everything that had happened. The beach. The tears. The kiss. The way he'd told her he loved her like it was the most obvious truth in the world.
And then there was how she'd kissed him back.
Shruti stood and reached into the wardrobe, pulling out her nightwear. "I'll change first?"
He nodded. "Go ahead."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and when she returned a few minutes later, Arjun stepped in without a word. As they passed each other, they brushed shoulders. Neither of them apologized.
It was the first time it had felt… normal.
And something more.
Shruti sat back on the bed and picked up her phone, aimlessly scrolling, her mind far away. When Arjun returned—his grey T-shirt slightly wrinkled, his hair damp from the splash of water on his face—he hesitated at the edge of the room.
Then he asked softly, "Can I sleep closer tonight?"
She looked up, startled—not because she was offended, but because the question was so gentle. So careful. So him.
"You don't have to ask," she said after a moment, tucking her phone under the pillow.
"I do," he murmured. "I don't want to assume anything. Not tonight."
Shruti gave a tiny nod. "Then… yes."
He turned off the lights.
The room slipped into darkness.
She slid beneath the blanket, the cotton cool against her skin. He followed slowly, careful with every movement, as if he didn't want to break the fragile, blooming peace between them.
They lay there for a few seconds, backs nearly touching, the silence stretching… but not awkwardly. It was full—charged.
Then Arjun moved.
He shifted onto his side, reaching out, brushing the blanket slightly. His hand found hers—hesitantly at first, like he was testing if she'd allow it.
Shruti responded by turning toward him, eyes half-lidded in the soft moonlight. She moved closer until her forehead nearly touched his shoulder.
He reached out fully then, an arm wrapping gently around her waist.
She tucked herself in against him, head resting under his chin. The heat of him, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it all melted her anxiety like snow on skin.
"You're warm," she whispered.
"Too much?"
"No. Just right."
He chuckled softly into her hair. "First kiss today, and now cuddling. Big day."
Shruti's laugh was muffled against his shirt. "We have cuddled everyday since our second day here together."
"I know. I'm just trying not to die of happiness."
She paused, then added, "You smell like soap."
"You're avoiding my sentimentality," he teased.
"I'm soaking in it," she whispered. "Just… quietly."
He exhaled. His hand, resting on her side, rubbed small, soothing circles. Then he lifted it, brushed her hair back from her face with featherlight fingers, and pressed a long, unhurried kiss to her forehead.
"You don't have to say anything tonight," he murmured. "You don't owe me words or answers or anything. I just want you close."
Shruti swallowed hard. "I'm not very good at this… opening up. But I'm trying. With you. Everyday."
"I know," he said. "And I'll be patient. Always."
Her voice was even softer now, barely audible. "Why do you treat me like I'm something precious?"
"Because you are."
Silence. Then a trembling breath.
"I'm scared, Arjun."
"I know," he said again. "But I'm here. You don't have to be scared alone."
And something inside her cracked. Not painfully—but like a shell breaking open, letting in light.
She pressed herself closer. "Don't stop doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Making me feel like I belong somewhere."
His arms tightened just slightly. "Then don't run away from it."
She didn't reply, but he felt the shift in her breathing—the slow, even rhythm of sleep beginning to pull her under.
"Sleep now," he said softly, his lips still brushing her forehead. "I've got you."
Her final word was a sleepy whisper. "Okay."
Arjun remained awake a little longer.
He stared up into the ceiling's darkness, his hand still entwined with hers, his heart full to the brim. She had kissed him. Chosen him. Trusted him.
And when her breath steadied, and her hand relaxed in his, he whispered to the night:
"One day… I'll propose the right way."
A smile ghosted his lips.
"On a perfect day. With flowers. And questions. And cake. And maybe balloons, if she's feeling dramatic."
He chuckled to himself.
And then, still holding her close, he finally let sleep take him too.
Their fingers stayed interlocked all through the night.
And the silence around them no longer felt empty—it felt like a promise.
To be continued...