Chapter 13 – Sparks and Laughter
खिलखिलाहट, शरारत, मीठा खेल,
रसोई में हर पल बना जैसे मेल।
हँसी में छुपा प्यार का इशारा,
तेरे साथ बिताया हर पल हमारा।
The morning sunlight streamed through the wide windows of the Khanna house, painting the polished wooden floors with warm streaks. The house, still bustling with post-wedding activity, had a calm energy by mid-morning. Most relatives were out running errands or quietly sleeping off the celebrations, leaving Trisha and Abhineet in a rare stretch of quiet.
Trisha found herself in the kitchen, determined to attempt a new recipe. She had promised herself she would bake something intricate today—a chocolate souffle. The task was daunting, but in the quiet presence of Abhineet nearby, she felt the faint stirrings of courage.
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Abhineet leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, silently observing her concentration. "That looks complicated," he remarked casually.
Trisha jumped slightly, flour dusting her hair. "I… I think I can manage," she said, fingers trembling. "I've made it before, but… never under supervision."
He smirked faintly, the hint of humor in his gaze making her pulse quicken. "Supervision?"
"Yes… you," she replied, cheeks flaming.
Abhineet chuckled softly, stepping closer. "I'm not here to judge, you know. Just… to make sure you don't set the kitchen on fire."
Trisha let out a laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing. The sound was quiet but genuine, and it made his lips twitch in amusement.
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As she whisked the batter, a rogue drop splattered onto her kurta. She froze, hands mid-air. Abhineet noticed immediately and grabbed a clean towel, handing it to her with a teasing glance.
"You're dangerously messy," he said.
"I… I can't help it!" she protested, laughing softly. "It's part of the process."
He leaned against the counter, watching her with quiet fascination. "It suits you. The messy chef look… I might even get used to it."
Her laughter grew, richer this time, echoing faintly in the kitchen. She noticed how effortless it was to share humor with him—how safe it felt to let herself smile without fear of judgment.
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The souffle went into the oven, and they moved to the small breakfast table. Abhineet picked up a slice of bread and pretended to examine it closely.
"Do you toast this before eating, or… eat it raw?" he teased.
Trisha rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Raw bread isn't really my style," she replied.
He shook his head, mock solemn. "I might have to teach you the proper techniques. I can't have the bride of the Khanna household making basic mistakes."
"Are you planning to supervise me every day?" she asked, grinning.
"Only when it's dangerous," he said with a straight face. "Like this morning."
Trisha giggled again, realizing that even the smallest gestures—his teasing, his casual attention—sent a thrill through her chest.
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Later, in the living room, Abhineet suggested a casual game of carrom with the remaining cousins. Trisha hesitated at first, unsure if she wanted to join the competitive chaos. But he caught her eye and gave a subtle nod—a silent encouragement.
Sitting opposite him, she fumbled with the striker, nearly sending it flying off the board. Abhineet leaned forward, steadying her hand with his. The touch was brief, but the warmth lingered.
"You're too stiff," he whispered, just enough for her to hear. "Relax."
Her face burned. "I'm… trying."
"You'll get there," he said softly, his gaze meeting hers. No teasing this time—just a quiet assurance that made her heart race.
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The game unfolded with laughter, playful banter, and a few mild arguments over points. Trisha found herself leaning closer to Abhineet, enjoying the rare thrill of competitive fun. Every brush of his hand while passing the striker, every subtle glance exchanged in silent agreement, made her pulse quicken.
By the end, she had almost forgotten the tension that usually clung to her in social situations. For the first time, she felt a sense of belonging—not just in the Khanna household, but beside Abhineet, sharing these moments of lighthearted intimacy.
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As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting golden light across the floors, Trisha retreated to the balcony with a cup of cocoa. She had baked a few small treats from the souffle mix while it cooled, offering them to Abhineet.
He accepted one, tasting it slowly. "Not bad," he said, eyes scanning her face. "Actually… very good. You might just surpass the kitchen staff."
She laughed softly. "Careful, I might start believing you."
"You should," he replied calmly. The words weren't teasing—they carried a weight, a subtle recognition of her skill, and it made her chest swell with a mixture of pride and something unnameable.
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The evening stretched, and the house grew quiet once more. Trisha found herself on her bed, the faint memory of his gaze lingering. Earlier that day, his presence had felt protective, teasing, and intimate—all at once.
She thought about the first time he had held her hand, the subtle caress in the kitchen, the brief but careful touches during the carrom game. Each small interaction was like a spark, slowly building a quiet fire she hadn't expected to feel.
And for the first time, she realized that she wanted more—not recklessly, not impatiently, but with the gentle, growing trust that had started between them.
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A soft knock at her door broke her reverie.
"Trisha?"
She looked up. "Abhineet?"
He entered silently, holding a small tray with cocoa and a plate of the souffle treats. "I thought you might want company."
She felt her lips curve into a shy smile. "I… I'd like that."
He sat beside her quietly, handing her a cup. The proximity sent subtle heat through her body, her heart racing as she realized how much she had come to crave his presence.
For hours, they shared cocoa, small laughter, and unspoken glances. No words were needed—every brush of fingers, every shared smile, every quiet gesture was building intimacy, slowly and safely, like embers catching in the dark.
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By the end of the night, Trisha lay back on her pillow, fingers tracing the edge of her cup, heart still fluttering. She realized something profound—her walls were starting to crumble, slowly but surely, not from force or pressure, but from patient attention, humor, and quiet understanding.
And she knew, deep inside, that the fire between them—gentle yet undeniable—was only beginning.
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✨ End of Chapter 13 ✨
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