That evening, the sun dipped low over the skyline, draping the narrow streets in hues of amber and rose. A warm breeze trailed along with them, rustling dry leaves across the road and sending faint shadows dancing beneath their feet. Shruti walked a little slower than usual, matching Arjun's pace, though neither of them spoke much.
Their hands didn't touch. They hadn't dared to, not on the open road with curious eyes all around. But even in the space between them, something warm lingered—like an invisible thread stretched from her wrist to his, quietly pulsing.
Arjun held her college bag over one shoulder, fingers lightly curled around the strap. His other hand rested in his jeans pocket, thumb tapping an unconscious rhythm against the fabric. Shruti glanced at him once, then again. The soft sway of his shirt in the breeze, the way his brows were faintly furrowed as though lost in thought—it all made her heart feel strange. Full. Nervous.
She clutched the side hem of her kurta between her fingers, rolling it tightly, then letting go. Over and over.
He noticed.
"You're quiet," Arjun said, his voice calm, almost teasing. "Is that a good quiet or a thinking quiet?"
Shruti's lips twitched, but she didn't smile. "Maybe both."
They kept walking a few more steps before she finally gathered the nerve.
"Arjun," she said, not looking at him.
He slowed just slightly, enough to listen without rushing her. "Hm?"
She hesitated for a beat, then forced the words out with deliberate care. "There's a freshers' event coming up. They announced it today in class."
His head turned slightly. "Yeah?"
"They're forming teams for dance, music, skits… stuff like that. Everyone's really excited." Her voice was light, neutral. But inside, her stomach fluttered with a thousand tiny wings.
Arjun gave a small nod. "Sounds fun. Are you joining something?"
Shruti let out a slow breath. "I was thinking of dancing. A group piece. Nothing too attention-grabbing. Pragathi asked me to join her."
For a moment, he didn't respond. The air stretched around them, filled with the sounds of a distant motorcycle revving, a woman calling to her child from a balcony, and the steady hush of wind brushing trees.
Shruti stopped walking.
Arjun turned to her fully now, brows knit together slightly as he registered the flicker of uncertainty in her expression.
She looked up at him, her eyes holding both determination and doubt. "I just wanted to check… if it's okay."
His gaze softened. "Shruti," he said, voice low, "you don't need to ask for permission."
"I know," she murmured, eyes dropping. "It's not that. I just…"
She trailed off.
Arjun waited.
"It's not about needing approval," she tried again. "It's about… us. This thing we're keeping hidden. What if someone sees me on stage and starts noticing things? What if it brings unnecessary attention? You've always been careful. I just thought… maybe I should be too."
He stepped closer, now only a breath away. His voice dropped into something gentler, more personal.
"You've been careful enough. More than you should have to be."
She didn't say anything, but the way her fingers twisted the fabric again gave her away.
He reached out, his hand not touching her skin but hovering just beside hers, close enough to offer warmth. "Do you want to do it? The dance?"
Shruti nodded, slowly. "I really do. I miss it."
Arjun looked at her for a long second, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he spoke—not with a nod, not with an empty "okay," but with quiet certainty.
"Then do it."
Her brows lifted. "Really?"
"You deserve to have your own things," he said. "Your joys. Your freedom. You've already given up so much without even being asked to. If dancing makes you feel like yourself again… don't let anything stop you."
She blinked rapidly, her heart catching in her throat. "Even if it means some people might… guess something about us?"
He looked away briefly, his jaw tightening before he replied.
"If they do, they do. We'll deal with it. But I won't let fear shrink you. I want you to live. I want you to glow on that stage, Shruti. Not just as my wife—but as yourself."
Her eyes shimmered, that single word still ringing in her ears.
Wife.
They rarely said it aloud. Not in public. Not even at home, unless in whispered jokes or quiet reassurances. But here he was, saying it with the kind of conviction that anchored her.
"I don't know what to say," she whispered, lips trembling.
"Say yes to the dance," he said, offering her a small smile. "And say you'll teach me a step or two later. In secret. On the terrace."
She laughed then, softly, wiping the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.
"I'll dance," she said finally. "But only if you promise to cheer for me—even if you're sitting all the way at the back."
"I'll cheer so loud, they'll throw me out," he joked.
She bumped her shoulder into his lightly, and he bumped her right back.
The sun had lowered further now, casting their shadows long and gold across the pavement. They continued walking, slower this time, not minding the weight of the day or the future. Just walking together—two kids balancing between duty and dreams.
And even though they didn't hold hands, Shruti felt like he was holding her entire world.
To be continued...