Bangalore, India
October
Samaira's POV
My breath hitches when our eyes meet. He just stares at me as if he is as shocked as me.
Didn't anyone tell him about me already?
"Beta." My Bua presses again and I look at her, she signals me with her wide eyes and my nose flares in anger but I keep a straight face nodding at her curtly.
I start moving around the room. I offer the coffee to an elder man and an elder woman, both of whom give me polite smiles and I bow to them in return like I have seen my sister-in-law do to my father when we went to see her for a ritual. As I move towards the kid, whom I recognize as Aryan's nephew whom Aryan talked about, I can't help but smile at him. I hand him the milk cup with a warm smile, "Hey Champ," I whisper, winking at him. His giggles fill the room, making me smile too and he replies with a shy 'Hi.' making his mother chuckle beside him.
Next, I offer coffee to a young couple, acknowledging them with a friendly smile. Finally, I approach Aryan, my heart pounding in my chest. I don't look at him, and he waits for me to make eye contact, but I deliberately avoid it.
I give him the coffee, maintaining my composure, and continue without acknowledging his presence.
Walking back, I handed the tray to Nithya, who was beaming with happiness. I shoot her an amused smile in return before turning to leave the scene. However, my brother's hand clasps around my wrist, and he speaks softly, "Ammu, come sit here." I glare at him, but he grins back mischievously. Reluctantly, I sit on the single sofa beside my father, stealing a glance at him. He wears a happy smile gazing at me, and I respond with a small one before shifting my focus to the elderly woman who starts speaking, presumably Aryan's mother.
"I am Geetha, and this is my husband, Vijay," Aryan's mother introduced, prompting me to join my hands in a respectful bow as Bua gestured for me to join hands behind them. "This is my first daughter, Maya," she continued, and I smiled at the young lady, who waved enthusiastically. "That's her husband, Jagadish, and that's their son, Ishaan." The shy smile of the little boy hiding behind his father drew laughter from everyone.
"And that's my second son, Aryan," Aryan's mother proudly announced. I turn my head to look at him, finding his eyes already fixed on mine. Mischief sparkled in my eyes as I joined my hands and bowed mockingly to him, catching him off guard. Aryan plays along, joining his hands and bows back with a sly grin, hiding it behind his hand. I immediately look away, putting on a composed and indifferent expression only to meet his mother's eyes who have a surprised smile on her lips as she looks between me and her son noticing the silent exchange.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, "Oh, look at her blushing." Bua speaks from the other side of the room in a high pitch which gains laughs from several, but I control the urge to roll my eyes and not snap at her saying 'It's not what you think.' I just divert my attention from her looking at his mother back who smiles at me warmly making my face heat up at the attention.
The room buzzes with conversations and laughter, but I can't shake off the intrigue and the surge of emotions stirred by that brief interaction with Aryan.
"Are you my imposter sister?" Adi whispers leaning to my side. "What?" I whisper back at him confused. He just shrugs, "My sister isn't shy and you are blushing from time to time." He says teasingly as if I didn't already know that.
I ignore his words, "Are we not going to talk about your friend being my prospective husband?" I hiss at him to which he smiles warmly, "He is a good guy. I like him. So I don't see why you shouldn't marry him." He states in a murmur and I look at him surprised and then I narrow my eyes at him, "So you want to get me married? What happened 'Don't worry Ammu, I will try to do something.' that was my imposter brother, right?" I hiss at him in anger as he smiles at me sheepishly.
Marrying Aryan is secondary.
But the fact that my brother is backing away from his words is what angers me.
"If it was someone else I wouldn't even let you agree to it. But this is Aryan we are talking about, he is a gentleman. I know he will take good care of you." He whispers sincerely as he takes a glance at Aryan on the other side of the room.
"Adi, that's not enough. You know how mentally fucked up I am. I don't want to break his heart. He is - seems like a good man. He doesn't deserve me. No one does." I explain in a frantic whisper as my heart pounds in my chest and my mind gets flooded with different thoughts all hitting me at the same time.
"Stop insulting my sister in front of me." Adi scolds me in a hushed tone and I just stare at him, "Stop saying you don't deserve him. Stop thinking so low about yourself. You are not. You are the best person I know. And you always deserve good things. And Aryan is going to be the first of many good things that will happen to you." Adi's words stuns me into silence. Taking a hard swallow, "But he thinks of me as Amaira." I whisper defeated.
Even if I want to give a chance to us will he accept me after knowing my identity?
My heart pounds as Aryan's mother suggests, "Let the children talk alone," and my father readily agrees, saying, "Yeah, that's a great idea." I sit there frozen, trying to comprehend what his mother is proposing. The weight of the situation settles in, and my brother, noticing my paralyzed state, nudges his elbow at me, whispering, "Ammu, stop acting like an idiot."
His words bring me back from the reverie. I stand up, my feet wobbling slightly before I steady myself. I look in Aryan's direction, and he appears relieved about the prospect of talking alone. I nod at him, signalling for him to follow me. He nods in return, ready to join me, but my father intervenes.
"Amai, take him to our house, beta," my father says softly. I obediently nod, and we both walk out, leaving behind the curious gazes and hushed whispers of the family members in the room.
Once out of the door, Aryan comes beside me, and we walk along each other's side. The air feels charged with unspoken words, and I can sense the anticipation radiating from both of us. "You had called me five times," I state softly, breaking the silence as I lead him to my house.
Aryan glances at me, "Yeah, my mom had dropped a text of this address to see the bride." he starts looking at me briefly before continuing, "She had told me to see the photo the previous night, yours apparently, but I had forgotten and I lied to my mother I saw and I said I will be there when she had texted." and I hmm to it.
We reach my house, and I unlock the door, gesturing for him to step inside. The atmosphere inside is different from the tension in the room we just left. It's quieter, more intimate. I lead him to the living room. The awkwardness is palpable, and I can sense Aryan's attempt to find the right words. "Water?" I ask him filling the silence. "Yeah, sure. Thanks." He says and I walk into the kitchen only to have him following me into the kitchen. "Cold?" I ask him behind me. "Normal will do," he answers as he stops at the other end of the kitchen island.
I open a cabinet above me and I take out a glass, "Feels like a deja vu isn't it?" I speak to lighten the atmosphere reminding him of that night in Zia's house where I was taking out something from cabinet just like this, "It sure does feel. But you look different then other night." he replies and I turn on my heels surprised at his words.
His gaze does a quick swipe on my attire and noticing my gaze on him, he clears his throat looking into my eyes now, "You are wearing a Saree today. And you look beautiful." He compliments with an earnest expression, "You look good too." I say as my eyes flick over his white shirt and navy blue pants. He chuckles at that saying thanks and I turn away from him to fill the glass hoping he doesn't see my blush.
Why the hell am I blushing so much?
Also where is my stubborn and irritated at anything and evreything personality go? its like I am imposter version of myself.
I pass him the water, "Thank you." He mumbles before he drinks half of it in a single sip. "So you called me to inform me you were coming to see me?" I ask folding my arms as I lean my hip against the island and a raised eyebrow. "God no. I was going to send you the address and ask do you know the girl at this address." He explains as he rubs his nape which I have noticed he does when he is embarrassed. "And that ended being me." I tease him to which he nods letting out a chuckle.
"You didn't know it was me too?" He asks this time and I straighten up, "No I didn't." I admit honestly. He nods, understanding not prying for explanation. "I didn't realize until I saw you in the room too. It took a moment for everything to click." He confesses, running his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture.
I smile at the admission, appreciating the honesty.
He is an easy company to be with. Unlike when I am around other people he understands me easily and brings out a whole different side of me.
"So, what's the plan now?" I ask, wanting to address the elephant in the room. Aryan looks at me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge my feelings. "I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with," he says earnestly.
I appreciate his consideration but I can't help the chuckle that escapes me. "Well, this situation isn't something I'm comfortable with in the first place at all. But I appreciate your honesty too."
Good going Sam, No snarky remarks, no bitchy comments. Good.
Aryan lets out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxing. "Fair point."
We both stand there, a silent understanding passing between us. The weight of the situation hangs in the air, and I break the silence, "Aryan, you are a good person from what I know. But I think I am not ready for marriage yet and I can't promise you a fairy tale even if we are getting married."
He looks at me, sincerity in his eyes. "I like you Amaira. And I'm not looking for a fairy tale either. I want something real with you. I just want to know the real you, Amaira."
His words catch me off guard, and I find myself gazing at him, trying to understand the sincerity behind those dark eyes. "You barely know me, and I barely know you," I say cautiously.
He nods, "True. But sometimes, a leap of faith is all you need."
I feel like this situation is going to take drastic turns. I can feel it going out of my hand.
His honesty scares me. And I don't think I am even 10% honest as him.
His gaze meets mine, and he takes a deep breath, "I want to know you, the real you. Not just the person everyone else sees. There's something about you, something intriguing, and I want to understand it."
I feel a mix of surprise and vulnerability. No one has ever expressed such a genuine interest in getting to know the real me. "Why?" I ask my guard still up.
Don't get your hopes up, Samaira. All are intrigued by you until they know the real you.
He leans forward, his eyes locked with mine, "Because, Amaira, I believe there's more to you than meets the eye. And I want to be the one to discover it."
His words hang in the air, leaving me with a sense of uncertainty and a hint of anticipation that I don't want to acknowledge.
I ponder his words, realizing that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for something unexpected to unfold. But I also know the hurdles that lie ahead, the secrets that I can't escape.
Don't. Just don't. I tell myself.
But I ground myself to reality ignoring all the alternate thoughts, "You are a good person Aryan. But I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to break your heart."
He tilts his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Amaira, we all carry our baggage, our share of pain and secrets. I'm not expecting perfection. I just want to be a part of your journey, your life, whatever it may entail." His sincerity tugs at something within me, and I find myself wanting to believe in the possibility he presents.
My heart thuds in my chest. I was supposed to say no. What am I doing?
He reaches out, his hand gently resting on mine on the kitchen island. "We can take it one step at a time. No pressure. Just be yourself." He squeezes my hand lightly, trying to seal his assurance.
I look down at his hand on mine, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and comfort. The notion of letting someone into the maze of my life scares me, but there's also a yearning for connection that I haven't felt in a long time.
To have a go to person. Because you know that that person will heal you and make you realize.
"Amaira, I'm not asking you to bare your soul overnight. We have time, and I'm willing to wait," he reassures, his eyes holding an unwavering determination.
The way he says 'Amaira' makes me feel guilty. I want to scream at him that I am Samaira, not Amaira. But the risk of revealing my true identity, jeopardizing my relationship with him, and the potential consequences for my family hold me back.
That itself should warn me this is going to be a mistake. I shouldn't give him hopes. Otherwise we both are going to end up with a heartbreak.
But as I gaze into those earnest eyes, a conflict rages within me. Maybe, just maybe, taking a leap of faith isn't as daunting as it seems.
A small voice in my head warns me of the potential fallout, but for once, I choose to be selfish.
I want this, even if it's just a brief respite from the shadows that haunt me.
"Okay," I say softly, the weight on my shoulders feeling a bit lighter but .y heart feels tighter at what might go wrong if I let him in. "But on one condition." Aryan raises an eyebrow, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "Condition? What's the catch?"
"You get one date to convince me or we are breaking this off," I say, the words slipping out of my lips before I can fully grasp the consequences. Regret instantly claws at me.
What the fuck are you doing? The sane part of my brain yells.
The weight of my own words lingers in the air, Aryan's playful expression shifts to a surprised one, but then he bursts into laughter. "One date to convince you? Well, that's a challenge I'm willing to take."
His playful response brings a mix of relief and anxiety. Relief that he didn't take my condition too seriously, yet anxious at the thought of what might unfold.
Unable to resist, I offer a witty remark, "Seems like you're a bit too confident in yourself, Mr. Aryan." He chuckles in response, the warmth in his laughter echoing through the kitchen.
"I don't think I will lose. Not when it comes to you," he says, his tone carrying a hint of determination that makes my breath hitch. Our eyes lock, an unspoken understanding passing between us.
The unspoken truth hovers in the back of my mind like a dark cloud – the risk of losing whatever connection I share with Aryan once he discovers the truth. My heart aches at the thought, but at this moment, I choose to be selfish. Just this once, I put myself first, shutting out the looming fears.
And in this fleeting moment, I choose to embrace the hope that maybe, just maybe, this leap of faith will lead to something extraordinary.
I raise my pinky in his direction, mimicking the gesture he made the last time we met, "Pinky promise?" I ask selfishly, wanting this assurance that he'll be there.
He is too good to let go.
He gives me a warm smile and raises his hand, hooking his large pinky finger with mine, "Pinky promise," he says sincerely, his eyes moving between my own. The weight of the promise settles between us, and for a moment, the uncertainties and fears fade away, leaving only the possibility of something beautiful.
Aryan's POV
The warmth of the moment lingers between us as our pinkies remain entwined, sealing the unspoken promise. I find myself captivated by Amaira's eyes, a sea of emotions swirling within them. There's a vulnerability that she's allowed me to witness, and I can't help but feel a sense of responsibility towards it.
In this fleeting moment, I'm determined not to let go. Amaira is an enigma, a puzzle I'm eager to solve. I sense the walls she's built around herself, and while it may take time, I'm willing to invest in breaking down those barriers. There's something about her, a depth that intrigues me, and I don't want to miss the chance to explore it.
I can't afford to lose this opportunity. I've seen a glimpse of the real Amaira, and I want to know more. As the pinky promise binds us, I silently promise myself that I will give my best to make this work.
However, our moment of connection is abruptly interrupted by the intrusive ringing of my phone. Amaira pulls back her hand, and I can't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the sudden break in our reverie.
I let out an irritated breath as I retrieved my phone from my pocket, the display reading 'Adithya.' "Your brother is calling," I mumble, preparing to answer the call. But before I can do so, Amaira swiftly plucks the phone from my hand and declines the call.
Her actions surprise me, and I raise an eyebrow inquisitively. "Everything alright?" I inquire, wondering about the sudden change in her demeanour.
Amaira sighs, her eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and determination. "Adi has a habit of interrupting at the most inconvenient times," she explains, handing the phone back to me. "Sorry about that."
I take the phone back, slightly amused by her candid admission. "No worries. Family, right?" I say, offering a smile. The weight of the previous conversation lingers, but I decide to lighten the mood. "Now, about that date... any preferences?"
Amaira chuckles, the tension easing. "Preferences? Surprise me. Just not a luxurious place. I'm not a fan."
"Noted," I reply with a grin. The prospect of planning a date brings a new sense of excitement, and I'm determined to make it a memorable experience for both of us.
I look around casually once we are in a comfortable silence, "Where is your room?" I ask her curiously. She gestures to the upper floor with her finger. I ask with hope, "Can I see it?" She looks hesitant at first but then she nods telling me to follow her.
I follow Amaira's lead, my curiosity piqued as she guides me to the upper floor. The prospect of seeing her room intrigues me; after all, they say a person's personality is reflected in their living space.
As we ascend the staircase, my gaze unintentionally lingers on her back. Her simple sleeveless blouse and the free-flowing drape of her saree on her left side captures my attention. The smooth and slender contour of her back momentarily distracts me, and the smell of the Jasmin flowers on her hair turns me crazy every time I take a involuntary wiff of it. I quickly shake off any inappropriate thoughts.
Once we reach the first floor, she leads me to a room at the far end. As she opens the door, she exclaims, "Ta-daa," with a flourish of her arms, revealing the interior of her room.
The room is a reflection of her personality – simple yet vibrant. The walls are adorned with minimalistic artwork with h lavender backdrop, and a soft, ambient light creates a cozy atmosphere. A bookshelf catches my eye, filled with a diverse collection of books that seem mostly fictional. A small desk is neatly arranged with stationery. Her mattress was on the floor with number of pillows thrown on it along with a dark colored blanket and no bedpost.
"It's cozy," I comment, genuinely impressed by the warmth of her space.
She smiles appreciatively, "Thanks. I like to keep it simple and comfortable."
My eyes sweep across the room, taking in the details that offer glimpses into her life. A sense of connection grows, knowing that she's allowing me into this personal space.
My phone rings once again, disrupting the tranquility of the moment. I reluctantly answer the call, "Hey, it's Adi again," I inform her, disappointment evident in my tone.
Her expression mirrors mine, but she hides with a smile. The brief interlude in her room allowed for a different kind of connection, and the idea of returning to the family gathering brings a tinge of sadness.
"I guess we should head back," I say, a sense of reluctance in my voice as I decline the call.
Amaira nods in agreement, understanding the necessity of our return. The genuine connection we've been establishing throughout the evening seems momentarily halted by the demands of family obligations.
As we make our way downstairs, I can't help but feel a sense of longing for the simplicity and warmth of the moments shared in her room.
As we descend the stairs, a nagging question that has been lingering in my mind finally escapes my lips, "What about your mom?" The moment the words leave my mouth, a sense of regret washes over me.
Samaira, however, responds with a sad smile, "She is no more. She passed away giving birth to us." Guilt tightens my chest, and I hurriedly apologize, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Aryan, It's fine," she waves me off with a chuckle, a resilient strength shining through despite the sorrow in her eyes. I decide to shift the focus, raising a more immediate concern, "So what should we say to our families?"
"Just tell them we need a little time before coming to a conclusion," she says, adjusting the loose end of her saree with a thoughtful expression.
Nodding in understanding, we reach the main gate and pause for a moment. I sense the importance of the decision we are about to relay to our families.
As we step back into the midst of our families' chatter, Amaira's aunt wastes no time in asking, "So what did you decide, beta? Yes, right?" Amaira tenses beside me and I see her jaw clench. I step in, "No, actually, we need a little time," I declare, trying to navigate the situation delicately. "We just want to be sure," I add, and her father gives me a thoughtful approval nod, while my mother smiles approvingly.
As we make our exit, my family follows suit. Outside the main gate, my nephew Ishaan tugs at my pants, prompting me to lower myself to his eye level. "What's up, little man?" I with bows rasing. "Will she marry you?" he asks innocently.
I shrug, "I don't know bud." I look at Amaira at the door who watches our conversation with keen interest.
He then waddles toward Amaira, who crouches down to his height with a warm smile. They exchange words, and her laughter rings in the air at what Ishaan asks. She says something to him with a mischievous smile as she briefly glances at me. Then she kisses his cheek and points at her cheek asking for a kiss back and he shyly kisses before he runs back in my direction which make Maya laugh. He crashes against my legs and I immediately pick him in my arms.
He relays the conversation to me, word to word, whispering, "Mamu, she said she won't marry you because she knows you won't win the challenge."
I laugh out loud at that, and Maya, my sister, who has been silently eaves dropping, teases me about being "already whipped." Ignoring her, I playfully wink at Amaira, mouthing "watch me."
As we depart, I wave at Amaira, mouthing a bye, and she reciprocates with a smile. The warmth of that smile lingers in my mind as I settle into the car, thoughts still anchored to the woman who has stirred a unique and captivating resonance within me.
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You guys won't believe but as soon as I had drafted this chapter and the chapter name, I went to to Instagram to relax my brain. And the first post in my for you page was 'Pinkie Promise' Book's review post and I legit laughed out at that. Because what were the chances right?
And everybody deserves a chance at Love. No matter what the circumstances are. And our girl definitely deserves it.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it.
And guys do you hear the wedding bells?
*Squeals excited* I Can't wait to write the wedding chapters and also I need a tiny help if anyone as knowledge of wedding in general please drop by my DM. I would be very thankful to you if you cul help me.
Lots of Love,
Silver