She looked around the parking lot.
Empty.
Completely empty.
The team had already left. Even the restaurant staff was going inside. No autos. No cabs in sight.
She looked back at him.
"Well," she said casually, "since there is literally no one here… I guess I don't have a choice."
He raised an eyebrow. "So I'm the last option?"
"You're the available option."
"Wow. I feel honored."
"Don't."
But she smiled and got into the passenger seat anyway.
He started the engine and pulled out.
For a minute, they just drove in comfortable silence.
Then she turned toward him. "You really tried to take my cake."
"I asked politely."
"You negotiated like we were signing a contract."
"I offered pasta in exchange."
"Pasta is temporary. Cake is emotional."
He laughed softly. "You were ready to fight."
"I was protecting what's mine."
"You almost stood up when she picked it up."
"I did stand up."
He shook his head, amused. "You don't share."
"Depends."
"On?"
She glanced at him. "On who's asking."
He didn't respond immediately. The signal turned red and the car slowed.
"You looked nice tonight," he said.
She blinked. "Nice?"
"Yes."
"That's very basic."
He glanced at her properly this time. "Fine. You looked really nice."
She tried to act unaffected. "Thank you."
"You kept checking your reflection."
"I was not."
"You were."
"That was lighting."
"And you asked Meera if your dress was okay."
She narrowed her eyes. "You were observing a lot."
He shrugged lightly. "Hard not to."
Her heart did something inconvenient.
She looked out the window quickly.
Before the silence could stretch, she suddenly grabbed her phone.
"Okay. Enough."
"Enough what?"
She connected it to the Bluetooth. A loud Bollywood song filled the car.
"Let's sing."
"I'm driving."
"So sing and drive."
"That sounds unsafe."
"Don't overthink."
And she started singing.
Loudly.
Without caring about tune or lyrics.
She drummed her fingers against the dashboard and exaggerated the expressions like she was on stage.
He tried to stay serious.
Failed.
He joined in.
Now both of them were singing the chorus like children who had just been given freedom.
She forgot the next line and confidently made up something else.
"That's not the song," he said.
"It is now."
They laughed.
She raised the volume higher during the hook.
He matched her energy, singing louder just to compete.
At one point they both shouted random sounds because neither remembered the lyrics.
The car filled with laughter again.
Another song started. She didn't change it.
They kept singing. No office masks. No seriousness. Just noise and fun.
She looked at him mid-song and caught him smiling.
"What?" she asked.
"You're too invested."
"Obviously."
"You take singing very seriously for someone who doesn't know the lyrics."
"Confidence matters."
He shook his head, amused.
They turned into her lane before she even realized.
"Already?" she muttered.
"You were busy performing."
"I was enjoying."
"Same thing."
He parked outside her gate. She lowered the volume and the car fell quiet.
The silence felt different after all that noise.
"Thanks," she said softly.
"For being your only option?" he replied.
She rolled her eyes. "For the ride."
She reached for the seatbelt.
Click.
Nothing.
She frowned.
"Why is this stuck?"
She pulled again.
"It's not opening."
"You're pulling it wrong."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I'm not!"
"Okay, okay. Wait."
He leaned toward her.
"Don't move."
His arm moved slightly across her as he reached for the buckle near her waist.
The space between them disappeared.
She froze.
He was close now. Close enough that she could feel the warmth from him. Close enough that she suddenly became very aware of how small the car felt.
His fingers brushed against hers while trying to press the latch.
Both of them paused.
Just for a second.
Then his hand closed lightly around hers to steady it.
Her breath caught.
He looked up.
She was already looking at him.
No music.
No teasing.
Just quiet.
"You're tense," he said softly.
"I'm not."
"You are."
Neither of them moved.
The seatbelt was still stuck.
But neither of them tried again immediately.
The childish energy from a minute ago had faded somewhere between the last chorus and this silence.
Now it was just—
Him.
Close.
Her hand still in his.
And the air between them suddenly too warm.