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The verandah was silent, the only person standing there was piyali.

Lost in her thoughts when Mrs. Sharma walked out of the kitchen towards her with two glass of turmeric milk.

"Beta, ee pee le. Aacha lagega."

(Beta, drink this. You will feel good.)

Then she turned with the second glass in her hand, clearly meant for Samar.

Before she could move, a voice came from one of the rooms inside.

Mr. Sharma called "Suno, zara idhar aao, baat karni hai."

(Listen, come here for a moment, I need to talk to you.)

Her mom left to give the milk in Ajay's room.

Mrs. Sharma sighed then quickly placed the second glass in Piyali's hands. "Piu, tu de aana Samar ko..aur tu bhi pi lena haa beta"

(Piu, you go and give it to Samar. I will come and you also have it, okay beta.)

Piyali froze for a moment, her eyes going toward the room where Samar had gone. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but words didn't come.

Mrs. Sharma didn't notice her hesitation and went inside, leaving Piyali standing there with both glasses in her hands.

Her heart rose up. She stared at the closed door. For a second, she thought of turning back or keeping the glass on the verandah table and leaving it at that.

But the thought of him, injured and tired.

She sighed and tightened her hold on the glass and slowly walked towards Samar's room.

The sound of her anklets is the only noise in the quiet house.

She stood outside his door for a moment, balancing both glasses in her hands.

She raised her knuckles and knocked softly. Once. Twice. No response. The room was quiet.

After waiting a few seconds, she slowly pushed the door open.

Inside, Samar was laying stretched on the bed. One arm was bent on his forehead, his palm was was covering his eyes.

The white cloth tied around his hand was stained with haldi. His body looked tense, shoulders were stiff but there was also a weight of tiredness in the way he was laying.

Piyali stood at the doorway, her lips pressed together.

She stepped in quietly and placed the glass of milk on the small wooden table beside his bed. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment longer.

Then in a low whisper she said "Doodh pi lijiye" and turned to leave.

(Please have the milk.)

Just as she turned and could take a step , another hand closed firmly around her wrist.

The sudden touch made her whole body jolt. The other glass in her free hand shakes a bit, she stood there a bit shocked.

Samar was slowly sitting up now, his eyes open, his grip was strong but not harsh to hurt her. He hadn't been asleep, only lying there with his eyes shut.

He had felt her presence from the moment she entered, the sound of her anklets were something he could never forget, the clicking of her bangles were too clear.

He knew it was her. And he couldn't let her leave without stopping her.

His grip didn't loosen. Instead with a slow pull he tugged her closer until she stumbled a bit and half-fell onto his thigh.

Piyali gasped, a soft yelp slipping from her lips.

The glass in her hand trembled as she instinctively reached out, her palm pressing against his shoulder for balance.

Her breath caught. her legs brushed against his thigh, and for a moment it felt like the air was thick around them.

Realizing how close she was, she quickly drew her hand back, her chest rising and falling fast.

She dared not look at him, but she could feel his eyes, intense yet observing.

Her lashes lowered, her head was bowed slightly, surrendering already.She knew in that moment she wouldn't be able to hide anything from him anymore.

He would see right through it.

Samar's hand hovered near her shoulder, just above where her dupatta covered her neck. He didn't touch, his hands paused there, eyes were searching hers, waiting patiently. Asking without words.

The silence was stretched.

Piyali's fingers tightened around the glass she held. Her lips parted, but no words came.

She blinked slowly, then lowered her eyes, shying away from the storm in his gaze. It was her answer, not spoken but it was clear.

Samar's fingers finally touched gently the edge of her dupatta.

With a slow tug, he lowered it just enough to look at her neck where she wore her gold chain, his eyes falling on the curve of her neck.

There it was, the faint red mark, a thin cut where her chain had been yanked away. The skin around it was tender, the bruise spreading lightly towards the spot behind her ear.

It was the place where she usually wore her gold pendant, the one he had seen her wear every single day.

His jaw tightened, but his hand moved with surprising gentleness.

He slid his palm to the back of her neck, cupping it carefully, his thumb carrising the sore spot as though his touch could ease the slight sting.

Piyali's eyes were shut, her breath heavy.

The warmth of his hand sent a shiver through her. She sat still, her body trembling slightly, her lashes resting on her cheeks.

While Samar's hand moved slowly on her neck, tracing the line of her neck before resting against her cheek.

His thumb slid softly to the space just beneath her ear, where another bruise could be felt a little. With his other fingers, he guided her face, tilting it gently towards him.

Piyali drew in a deep breath, her lips trembling as her head turned under his touch.

The room was silent except for the sound of her breathing and his steady one that almost trembled with the weight of anger and something else he could not name.

Samar turned her head slightly, his thumb guiding her chin so he could see just behind her ear.

The lantern light was helpful in catching the faint marks there but nothing deep in real, just soft bruises but enough to make his chest tighten.

His thumb moved gently over the spot, caressing it as though he could heal it already.

His palm cupped her cheek now, holding it carefully, like she was something fragile.

His hands were rough from the fields, from working with tools and the hard work but the way he touched her was nothing like that.

It was steady, almost protective, a rough hand learning how to be tender.

Piyali's eyes slipped closed again, her breath uneven. She couldn't help it, she loved feeling his presence with her eyes closed as much as she loved gazing at her eyes.

She didn't flinch this time. She only let herself feel it, the warmth of his palm against her skin, the soft circling of his thumb.

She sat there quietly, still holding the untouched glass of milk in her lap.

Before Piyali could even realize, the glass of milk resting on her thighs was lifted from her hands.

Samar placed it quietly on the side table, his other hand reaching into the small drawer. From inside, he pulled out a worn medicine box, opening it without looking at her.

His voice was low, rough, but gentle.

"Jooth bola tumne humse."

(You lied to me.)

Piyali froze, her eyes fixed on his hands. She didn't answer, only sat still as he opened the small tin, dipped his fingers into the ointment and leaned forward.

He began to apply it gently on her neck, the cool medicine making her flinch for a second.

His fingers worked carefully, moving up to the bruise behind her ear.

Finally, she whispered, her voice almost breaking "I didn't want to worry anyone..."

He didn't respond, his jaw tight while eyes focused on what he was doing. His hand stayed then slid to the back of her neck.

His palm held her there, not forcefully but firm enough for her to lift her chin, pulling away her gaze from her lap to his.

Piyali's eyes widened, shocked at the sudden closeness.

His stare locked onto hers, burning with control. His words came slow.

"Aaj ke baad mujhse jooth nahi.bolna. Mujhe farak nahi padta ki tum doosre logo ko batati ho ya nahi. Mujhe... sab bataaogi."

(Never lie to me. I don't care if you don't want to worry others. You will tell me... everything. Whatever happens with you.)

The weight in his tone left no space for her to argue with him.

Piyali's lips parted but nothing came out. She just looked at him, stunned, her heart beating so loud she was sure he could hear it.

Samar's hand, still cupping the back of her neck, softened slightly, his thumb brushing her skin as if to calm her down from what she had heard.

She had no reply to his warning, no words strong enough to match the weight of it. Her fingers holded at her dupatta and for a long moment she just stared at him.

Then, softly, almost without realizing, the question slipped out of her lips.

"Aap..aap hamein sach me pasand karte hai?"

(Do you... do you really like me?)

The moment stopped.

Samar didn't answer. He didn't even move, his eyes were unreadable. He closed the medicine box quietly, setting it aside on the table.

The silence was stretched so long that her chest began to ache with it.

Finally, he leaned back slowly, shifting his weight. His hands pressed against the bed as he eased himself up, resting against the wall.

He didn't push her away in fact without realising she was still sitting on his lap, her dupatta falling all over his thighs.

Her eyes were locked on him...He looked almost...nervous. His jaw clenched, his gaze moved away from her before returning.

Piyali waited, her heart was pounding, searching his face for an answer.

At last, he spoke, his voice low, almost rough. "I don't like..." he paused, his eyes narrowing as though he was choosing the words carefully "I don't just like anyone.

Piyali blinked, trying to make sense of it, her lips parting in surprise.

She couldn't tell if he was rejecting her or admitting something else entirely.

All she knew was the way his eyes stayed, if anyone else was in the room with them. They would have laughed in their faces if they said they weren't couples.

Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out anyway, her voice trembling.

"Toh..aap hamein pasand n-nahi karte?"

(So... you don't like me?)

Her words came out softer than she intended, her courage was already breaking. Her eyes are getting moist, almost heartbroken at her own words.

Samar looked at her when he finally spoke, "You ask me this... while you're sitting on me?"

Her head snapped up, eyes widening at his boldness. Color rushed to her cheeks, hot and frustrated. she let out a small whine, almost childlike.

"You only said you don't like anyone..." she mumbled twisting her fingers together.

Samar's chuckled softly but the softness soon was gone. His voice was getting firm as spoke.

"Maine kabhi kisi ko pasand nahi kiya, aur mujhe yeh bhi nahi pata ki kisiko pasand karna kaisa lagta hai. Jo bhi kuch mehsoos hua hai, sirf tumhare saath hua hai aur use bhi maine bahut koshish karke roka hain. Abhi bhi rok raha hoon, lekin jaanta hoon ki jab baat sach mein gehri ho jaayegi, toh main khud ko rok nahi paunga."

(Yes, I don't. I have never liked anyone before and I don't even know what it really feels like to like someone. The only feelings I have ever truly had are with you, feelings I tried hard to resist, again and again. I am still resisting them even now but I know I won't be able to once things become serious.)

"I want to make sure you are serious and aware of what this means."

The seriousness in his tone struck her harder than the words themselves. For a second, she stared at him.

"Did you think I only liked you to... to pass time with you?" she asked, her voice was trembling but it was carrying hurt and offence both.

He inhaled deeply "You were a kid when you started this... but I'm not. Even if I want you, i need to make sure you are not doing something you might regret in future."

Piyali didn't look away. His words were holding a care for her but it was still stinging deep. Her love was being questioned.

She straightened her shoulders, her soft eyes turning sharp, holding him without fear for the first time.

"Then you should understand it better than me."

He leaned a little closer, his voice lower.

"I do. That's why I am asking. If I go out right now and ask your parents to marry you to me... will you do it?"

His words were heavy in the quiet room. There was no playfulness.

He wasn't the kind of man to build castles in the air, not with her, not with anyone.

Piyali's fingers curled on the fabric of her dress, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She could see the responsibility of being older, of having seen more of life, of having watched her grow up in front of him.

He had always resisted, hiding the way her small gestures warmed his heart. She knew he pulled back whenever she came too close, telling himself she was still too innocent for such things.

But tonight... he really was asking.

"Ji" she whispered, surprising even herself with how steady it sounded. "Ham karenge aapse shaadi"

(Yes, I will marry you.)

Samar blinked. he had expected her to hesitate maybe even refusal. But Not this.

Her eyes glistened but her voice grew firm, stronger than her usual fragile self was capable of.

"What did you think? That I am not serious? I am not a kid anymore. I know what I am doing... I know what I feel."

Her words cut through him, leaving him silent. For the first time, she was bare and bold without shyness, without fear.

But then she looked down, lips turning into a pout, upset at him for not believing in her after all this.

she murmured, voice softer now "Aapko jo sahi lagta hain aap samjhiye... lekin humein itna pata hai, hum aapse bohat prem karte hain."

(You can think whatever you feel is right... but I know one thing. I will always love you.)

She shifted as if to rise. But before she could, Samar's hand shot up, pulling her back.

She fell against his chest, her head just beneath his chin. His arms wrapped around her firmly, his hands capturing her wrists and bringing them against her own waist as though locking her in place.

She squirmed lightly, her breath uneven, her heart racing as her hair brushed against his neck. Her anger was shown in her resistance.

Ye toh gussa gayi, Samar thought, a faint smile on his lips despite the burst of feelings on his chest.

He tightened his hold, lowering his mouth until his breath grazed the shell of her ear, his chin on her shoulder.

"Shant Piu..."

Her body froze.

"Iam aware, you like me. A lot. But you know?....I am in love with you or whatever this feeling means. I am more deep in it than you are." Samar murmured, his thumb gently brushing circles on the back of her hand as he held her in place.

Piyali's lips parted, her eyes gazed down to his rough hands on her waist. Her pout rose, her voice quiet but stubborn.

"Then you marry me. Only then I will believe you really like me."

For the first time that evening, Samar chuckled, grinning at her words. The sound vibrates in his chest against her back.

"Shaadi ko waqt hai... bade ho jao pehle."

(There's still time for marriage... grow up first.)

Her brows furrowed instantly, lips puffing in protest.

"I am grown up already."

He smiled faintly, cheek brushing against her chubby ones as he tightened his arms a little more around her.

"Or thoda ho jao..."

(Grow a little more.)

Piyali shifted slightly on his lap, her fingers brushing nervously against the edge of his shirt.

Her earlier boldness was already dissolving into shyness as she mumbled softly

"humein jane dijiye. Maa dhoondh rahi hogi hamein."

(Let me go now. Mom must be looking for me.)

She tried to move, her body leaning forward as to rise from his lap. But Samar's arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back into place.

"Ruko." His voice was calm, but carried the quiet authority she never dared to resist.

(Wait)

Before she could protest, his other hand reached for the glass of haldi wala doodh that had been left on the table. Without a word, he lifted it, bringing it to her lips.

Piyali blinked up at him, wide-eyed. Her lips parted.

His eyes left her no choice but to obey. Slowly, shyly, she sipped as he tilted the glass, his hand steady, his gaze locked on her face.

Not once did he look away. He watched her. The way her throat moved as she swallowed, she didn't even realize when she finished the glass as she was so lost in his eyes.

By the time the glass was emptied, her cheeks were flushed with redness. He set the glass down.

"Subah firse dawai lagi dikhni chaiye hamein."

(In the morning, I should see the medicine applied again.)

She nodded quickly, unable to meet his gaze. "Hmm" was all she managed, her voice suddenly small, the earlier boldness long gone under the ground.

A chuckle escaped Samar as he watched her. The fearless girl who had challenged him, who had sworn she would marry him, was gone again, replaced by the shy, blushing Piyali he knew too well.

Her steps were hesitant as she slipped off his lap and moved toward the door, her fingers fidgeting as though unsure what to do with themselves.

She didn't turn back once, though the warmth of his gaze followed her, she knew he was staring.

When the door finally shut behind her, the room fell silent again.

Samar leaned back agai

nst the wooden bedpost, arms crossing loosely over his chest, his eyes on the door as though expecting it to open again.

But he knew. She hadn't left him behind entirely she had only left his room.

In that quiet room, Samar realized he hadn't simply watched Piyali walk away. He had watched his Piyali leave.

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