One of the things I hate the most about myself is the habit of forgetting. Maybe someday I'll wake up and forget my husband too, I thought, while looking around frantically for my pearl earrings. While finding them my mind started to think about Vyom. We never brought up that incident that happened on his birthday again. It has been weeks already.I blushed remembering the way his arms felt around me.
Never mind — back to reality.
Finally—found them. After twenty minutes, though.
I slipped them on and glanced at my reflection one last time: light-pink saree, high heels, pearl earrings, and just enough makeup to make me look human. Thankfully.
I hurried out and got into the car.
"Heyyyy, handsome," I said playfully.
"Shut up, Nandini," he shot back, glaring at me.
"I wish that too," I replied with a sly smile, "but only for you."
He narrowed his eyes. "Are you having a death wish?"
I swatted his arm lightly. "Not until you find me an Italian mafia boss."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Fine, then live forever."
I glared at him, squinting suspiciously. "Where are we going, though?"
"You'll know soon," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Finally, he slowed the car and pulled up in front of a gate. My eyes widened as the iron doors slid open, revealing a house that looked like it was straight out of a fairytale.
It wasn't just beautiful — it was breathtaking. A wide porch stretched out, with lanterns glowing softly at the entrance. Tall windows reflected the night sky, and the scent of freshly watered grass filled the air.
I turned to him, stunned. "This is… yours?"
He nodded, a rare hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "Beautiful, right? I took inspiration from your beauty."
I blushed. "Enough."
For a moment, I forgot to breathe. The house wasn't just a house — it felt like him. Strong, grounded, yet carrying pieces of quiet dreams he never talked about.
I smiled faintly, breaking the silence. "So… when were you planning to tell your best friend that you're secretly building a fairytale?"
His lips curved into a small smirk. "When she finally decides to stop dreaming about Veer and actually show up."
I glared at him, ready to throw hands.
He walked ahead, hands shoved in his pockets, casual as ever. I followed, still glancing around in awe.
Inside, the house was even more enchanting. The living room opened up with high ceilings, soft yellow lights spilling across the floors. A grand bookshelf hugged one wall, stacked with novels and journals, while a large painting hung in the living room. Everything smelled faintly of fresh paint.
"Wow," I whispered, my eyes moving from corner to corner. "This is amazing."
He shrugged, trying to hide a smile. "It took me two years. But yeah, it's okay."
"I never knew a person like you could have this interesting choice. I'm shocked," I said.
He glanced at me, his smirk fading into something softer. "That's the nicest way anyone's ever called me boring."
I laughed. "Smart."
We walked further in, my saree brushing against the floor as I moved. He opened a sliding glass door that led to the backyard, and I gasped again. Strings of fairy lights hung overhead. A small fountain bubbled gently, surrounded by white roses.
"This," I breathed, "wait, you like roses?"
He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite place. "White ones."
I turned to him, smiling softly. "Well, you are giving me heart attacks today." I looked at the fountain. "I'm sure this will be your comfort place."
He tilted his head, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Correction — our forever hangout spot. You'll keep showing up uninvited anyway."
I rolled my eyes but felt my chest warm. "As if I need your invitation — my foot."
For a moment, neither of us said anything. I kept on admiring everything. Indeed, it was beautiful.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Why not?" I said.
He brought me coffee and one for himself too. We sat in the garden, sipping.
"So, tell me about your crush," he asked.
I glared at him. "I don't have a crush."
He looked at me, then at his watch. "Hmm," he sipped his coffee. "How's Vyom?"
"He's good but rude," I said, looking at him with wide eyes as I realised what he'd just done — only to find him chuckling. This fucker.
I was ready to throw hands, but never mind.
I crossed my arms, glaring at him over the rim of my coffee cup. "You think you're funny, don't you?"
He leaned back in his chair, utterly unbothered. "I don't think. I know."
I rolled my eyes. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," he said with a lazy grin, "you're still here, drinking my coffee, in my house."
I fought back a smile. "Fine. I'll give you that one. But only because the coffee is okay."
He smirked. "Everything I make is perfect."
"Except your jokes."
We sat in silence for a moment. The fountain bubbled quietly in the background, and the fairy lights shimmered overhead.
Finally, I stood, brushing invisible creases from my saree. "Alright, mister architect, drop me home before my mother thinks you kidnapped me."
He got up too, stretching casually. "Tempting thought, though."
I narrowed my eyes. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, smirking as he picked up the keys.
Then , he drove me back to my house.