Before the silence could stretch any further, Vijay Oberoi let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "I swear… how can someone be this careless? Flirting? That's the only thing he's good at. Beyond that, I honestly don't think there's much going on."
Geeta chuckled beside him, her eyes twinkling. "Well, what do you expect? He takes after his father."
Naaz and Aarohi both tried—and failed—to hide their smiles. They exchanged a quick glance, biting back their laughter like two kids caught in on a family joke.
Vijay turned sharply to his wife, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me? What exactly are you trying to say?"
Geeta tilted her head and gave him a sweet, innocent smile—the kind that usually meant trouble. "I'm just saying… before you start pointing fingers at our son, maybe think back to your own glorious twenties. Or should I help refresh your memory?"
Vijay groaned, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh god. I say one word about your son, and suddenly I'm the bad guy. You've got a whole sword ready to attack."
Geeta smirked. "Just saying—don't throw stones when you used to live in a very, very glass house."
This time, Naaz and Aarohi couldn't hold it in. Both of them burst into laughter, and even Laksh—bandaged hand and all—cracked a reluctant smile.
The room, once tense, was now filled with lightness… and the kind of warmth only family can bring.
Just then, the soft click of heels echoed through the room. Kalpana Rajput stepped into the living area, her presence as graceful and composed as ever, a warm smile playing on her lips.
"So… what's going on here?" she asked lightly, her eyes scanning the room filled with laughter and half-finished teasing.
Geeta looked up at her with a matching smile. "Oh, nothing serious. Just the usual chaos your daughter and my son seem to bring wherever they go. Come, sit."
Kalpana chuckled and walked over to the couch, settling in beside them with practiced elegance. But the moment her eyes landed on Laksh's hand, her smile faded.
"Oh no, what happened to your hand, beta?" she asked, concern lacing her voice as her brows knitted together.
Before anyone could explain, Aarohi chimed in, casually brushing it off, "Nothing serious, mom. He was being careless, as usual. Bumped into a table and broke a showpiece… and his own hand, apparently."
Kalpana turned to Aarohi with a sharp look, her voice edged with mild irritation.
"Before blaming others, maybe take a moment to reflect on yourself. You're not exactly Miss Responsible either."
Aarohi blinked, confused.
"What did I even do now?"
Kalpana let out an exasperated sigh, clearly losing patience.
"Why haven't you been answering your dad's calls? Do you have any idea how many times he's tried reaching you since morning?"
Startled, Aarohi quickly unlocked her phone. The screen lit up—and her eyes widened like she'd just seen a ghost.
"Oh my God… Twenty-five missed calls from Dad?!"
Kalpana crossed her arms, her tone firm but not unkind.
"Yes, twenty-five. And don't even ask how many times he's called me, asking where you are. You know how your father gets—if he doesn't see your face in the morning, he spends the entire day spiraling."
Aarohi looked down, guilt flashing across her expression.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I just… I left early to pick up a bouquet for Armaan. I wanted to surprise him."
Hearing that, Kalpana's expression softened.
"Hmm… I get that. But next time, don't go disappearing like that. And don't give me that guilty little face now—just remember this: wherever you go, let your dad see your face first. It gives him peace."
Aarohi nodded sheepishly.
Kalpana gave her a gentle pat on the arm.
"Now go home. He's waiting."
Aarohi's eyes widened.
"Wait… what? Dad's home? Right now?"
Kalpana gave her a faint smile and nodded.
"Yes. He stopped by just to see you. So, go on—hurry. And don't forget to take that guilty face with you."
She gave Aarohi a light nudge.
"I'll check on Armaan in the meantime."
Aarohi didn't waste another second. She grabbed her bag and rushed out the door, her steps picking up speed the moment she hit the pavement. A short while later, after checking in on Armaan, Kalpana quietly left for her own house.
The rest of the day unfolded in a strange kind of stillness.
Laksh, for one, couldn't shake the storm brewing inside his head. He spent most of the day staring into nothing, tangled in thoughts he didn't even know how to name. Emotions he'd never planned to feel were now crawling under his skin—restless, confusing, and relentless.
Aarohi, on the other hand, was floating. Her heart felt so light, her happiness so full, it was like her feet refused to touch the ground. After seeing Armaan again… everything else faded into the background. She was walking on clouds.
And Armaan?
Well… Armaan was a little harder to read.
He smiled when he needed to. He spoke warmly. His eyes held a soft glimmer every time he looked at Aarohi. And yet, behind all that, there was something else—something deeper… heavier.
A shadow, maybe.
But let's not talk about that just yet.
Later that night, after dinner, Aarohi stepped out onto her balcony. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft silver glow across everything. She stood there quietly, arms resting on the railing, letting the night air cool her skin as she got lost in the silence.
But then something in the garden below caught her attention.
Someone was sitting on the bench—alone, completely still under the moonlight.
She squinted a little.
Wait… was that Armaan?
Aarohi frowned slightly, concern creeping into her eyes.
"What's he doing out there this late? Why's he sitting alone like that?"
Without thinking twice, she turned and walked quickly through the house, quietly making her way down and out into the garden.
Armaan was right where she'd seen him—sitting on the bench, staring at nothing in particular, completely absorbed in his thoughts. The soft rustle of leaves was the only sound, the entire world wrapped in a blanket of silence.
Then, he heard footsteps. Light. Familiar.
He turned his head slightly, trying to see who it was. The garden lights were too dim to make out the face, but as the figure stepped closer, the moonlight did the rest.
His gaze softened instantly.
Aarohi.
For a moment, he simply stared, as if surprised that she was really standing there. Then, blinking away his confusion, he asked in a startled voice,
"Aarohi? What are you doing here at this hour?"
Aarohi walked toward him with a soft, sweet smile lighting up her face. In her gentle voice, she said,
"I was standing on my balcony when I saw you sitting here all alone... so I thought I'd come and give you some company."
Hearing that, a wide smile spread across Armaan's face. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair.
"Crazy girl," he murmured affectionately.
They both burst into laughter. But after a few moments, Armaan's laughter faded, and his expression grew serious.
"Listen," he said firmly, "don't ever do this again. You have no idea how dangerous it can be to walk out alone like this at night—especially to a quiet garden like this. What if something had happened to you?"
Without replying, Aarohi moved closer and gently wrapped her arms around one of Armaan's. He turned to face her, only to find her looking straight into his eyes.
"Even if something does happen..." she said softly, "you're here, right? To protect me… to save me."
For a few seconds, Armaan simply looked at her—silent, still, caught in something he couldn't quite explain. Then, without saying a word, he slowly turned his gaze upward, to the stars above.
Armaan continued looking at the stars for a while, and then quietly said,
"But what if... one day, I'm not there, Aarohi?"
Aarohi found Armaan's reaction a little strange. Slowly, she let go of his hand and stepped in front of him, gently cupping his face with both hands.
Armaan lowered his eyes, glancing up at her from beneath his lashes.
Looking straight into his eyes, her voice calm yet filled with concern, Aarohi asked softly,
"Armaan… are you okay? Did something happen? If there's anything on your mind… you can tell me."
For a moment, the world fell silent.
Only the quiet rustle of leaves, the soft glow of moonlight, and the silent conversation of two hearts filled the night.