DIVYA
As he walked toward me, a small smile played on his lips, and it struck me just how impossibly handsome he looked in his black three-piece suit. The way the dark fabric clung to him, sharp and crisp, made me realize something I'd never considered before-that black, so often a dull and simple color, could somehow make someone look this breathtaking. He was dressed head to toe in black, and I couldn't imagine anyone else pulling it off the way he did.
"This is for you," he murmured, and only then did I notice the bouquet in his hand-a burst of color against his monochrome attire. The flowers were a riot of hues, so many shades and varieties I couldn't even name. Whoever the florist was, they had done a remarkable job. But I had been too busy admiring him to notice at first that he had brought me something so beautiful.
"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks as I accepted the bouquet.
"Shall we?" he asked, opening the passenger door of his car for me. I slipped inside, careful not to crush the delicate flowers, and watched as he closed the door behind me. Once I was settled, I fastened my seatbelt as he slid into the driver's seat. The engine purred to life, and we pulled away from the building and onto the main road.
I couldn't shake the way my eyes kept drifting toward him. It was like something had taken hold of me, and I couldn't look away. My gaze wandered to his hands, strong and firm as they gripped the steering wheel. His veins stood out when he turned it, and the sight made my pulse quicken. There was something about the way his hands looked-so powerful, so sure-that stirred something deep inside me. I glanced at my own hands, small in comparison, and bit my lip, a flutter of excitement rippling through me. I had always found something irresistibly attractive about strong hands, and his... his were perfect.
Before I realized it, the car slowed, and he pulled over to the side of the road. Confused, I looked around at the deserted surroundings.
"Come on," he said, stepping out and extending his hand toward me. My heart did a little flip as I placed the bouquet on the seat and slipped my hand into his. His hand engulfed mine, warm and reassuring. I couldn't help but feel small in his grasp, and when he intertwined our fingers, I felt a shiver of something I couldn't quite name.
I couldn't quite figure out what Raghav was up to, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. Was I dressed appropriately for whatever this was? My hand, still interlinked with his, felt small and delicate in his grip, and though I loved the closeness, I struggled to keep up with his long strides, especially in my heels. I glanced ahead and saw a row of lavish restaurants lining the street, their golden lights spilling out onto the sidewalk. From this side of the road, I couldn't make out the name of the one we were heading to, but something told me this was where he planned to take me.
The realization hit me-this was our date spot, and he'd parked the car a little farther away, as if to build anticipation. As we approached the crosswalk, a sudden rush of nerves gripped me, and without thinking, I tightened my hold on his hand. He glanced at me, his expression calm, and gave me a reassuring smile. It was a simple gesture, but it soothed me, like a parent guiding a child safely across a busy street. I hadn't realized how much I craved that kind of protection, the kind I had never gotten from my own parents. But Raghav, without even knowing, was filling all those empty spaces they'd left behind.
Crossing the road felt effortless with him by my side. His presence made it easy, like he was grounding me in a way I couldn't explain.
We walked together, my heels clicking softly against the pavement. His strides were long, and I had to work hard to keep up, my shoes making it even more difficult. But then, as if sensing my struggle, he slowed his pace, and I marveled at how he could understand me without me saying a word. Up ahead, I noticed the glow of a restaurant, its lavish exterior coming into view. I could barely make out the name, but as we neared, it became clear. My breath caught in my throat.
Opulence.
It was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Vaani had wanted to celebrate her birthday here last year, but reservations were impossible to get. And yet, here we were. How had Raghav managed this on such short notice? Then again, with someone like him, it probably came down to money and connections. Power.
The moment we stepped inside, I felt like we had entered another world. Everything here whispered elegance. The soft, amber glow of the chandeliers above bathed the room in a warm, intimate light. Each crystal refracted the light into delicate prisms, making it seem as though stars had been scattered across the ceiling. The scent in the air was intoxicating-something rich and decadent, perhaps saffron or truffle, mingling with the faint trace of candle wax and expensive cologne.
The tables, draped in perfectly pressed white linens, seemed almost untouched, as though no one dared disturb their pristine beauty. Everything gleamed: polished silverware, fine china, and glasses so delicate they looked as though they might shatter at the slightest touch. Around us, waiters moved like shadows, graceful and silent, ensuring that nothing was ever out of place.
"Right this way, sir," a waitress said, her voice smooth and professional as she led us to our table. The entire time, Raghav didn't let go of my hand, not until I took my seat. That's when it struck me-there was no one else here. An entire fine-dining restaurant, empty on a weekend? It felt surreal.
I glanced around, puzzled. "Is it just us?"
Raghav smiled, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "I prefer privacy," he said simply. "I didn't want anyone to interrupt our evening."
His words settled over me, making my heart race. This wasn't just a date; this was a world he had created, just for the two of us.
I looked around, and for the first time, I felt truly grateful to Vaani for insisting on taking me to the salon. Without her, I don't think a simple dress would have felt right in a place as extravagant as this restaurant. Everything about the setting oozed sophistication, and I realized how out of place I might have felt otherwise.
The waitress handed us the menus with a polite smile, and I gave her a quick, grateful nod. "Are you ready to order, sir and ma'am?" she asked in a calm, professional tone.
"Give us a minute," Raghav replied smoothly, barely looking up from the menu. She nodded and stepped away, leaving us to make our choices.
I unfolded the menu, but as I scanned the page, my heart sank. Disappointment washed over me when I realized I couldn't make sense of any of the dishes listed. The names were so fancy, most of them unpronounceable, and I had no idea what half of them even meant. I sneaked a glance at Raghav, who was engrossed in the menu, his brow furrowed in concentration. Clearly, he knew what he was looking for.
"So, are you ready to order?" his voice startled me from my thoughts. I looked up, unsure of what to say.
"I... um..." I trailed off, feeling my cheeks heat up as I fumbled with the words.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently, sensing my hesitation.
"I... don't really know what to order," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, embarrassed to reveal my uncertainty.
To my surprise, Raghav chuckled softly, and instead of feeling condescending, it was reassuring. "It's okay, Divya. There's no need to be embarrassed," he murmured, his tone kind. I blinked at him, expecting some kind of judgment, but instead, his words were warm and understanding. "Would you mind if I ordered for you?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine.
A small smile tugged at my lips. He wasn't the type of man who made decisions for others without asking-he was asking for my permission. It was such a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about his character. I'd assumed, given his wealth and background, that he might be more controlling, but I was wrong. He was considerate, thoughtful.
"Sure," I said softly, feeling a bit of relief as I set the menu aside. I rested my chin on my folded hands, watching him focus on the menu again.
"So, what do you prefer? Chicken, seafood, or meat?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.
"Hmm... I think I'll go with chicken," I replied, feeling more at ease now.
He nodded, his lips quirking up. "I have the perfect dish in mind. It's creamy but not too spicy," he said, glancing at me.
"I don't mind trying something new," I replied, my curiosity piqued.
He called the waitress over to take our order. "Sir, your usual?" she asked, and I blinked in surprise. Usual? That meant he came here often enough to have a signature dish. My eyes widened at the thought. This place was so expensive that I could never justify spending this much, even though I came from a wealthy family myself.
"No, not tonight," he replied smoothly. "We'll have a bottle of Chardonnay, a plate of Poulet Florentine, and Sole Meunière." Then, he paused and looked at me, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "For dessert... what do you think, Divya?"
At the mention of dessert, my face lit up with excitement, and he chuckled softly. "Mille-Feuille," he decided, and the waitress noted it down before leaving.
Moments later, she returned with the wine, serving us each a glass before retreating once more, giving us some privacy. I took a small sip, savoring the crisp taste as an awkward silence settled between us. Deciding to break it, I asked, "So, how was your day?"
"Hectic," he said with a sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Hectic? How so?"
"Well, I recently acquired a chain of restaurants-Spices and Chutney. It's undergoing some major renovations right now, and we're finalizing a new menu for the grand reopening next month," he explained, his voice casual but filled with pride.
My eyes lit up with recognition. "Spices and Chutney? That's a famous restaurant! I remember going there with my parents when I was a kid in India."
He nodded, a small smile touching his lips. "Yes, it has a lot of history. I'm hoping to bring it back even better than before."
"And will you be my date for the grand opening?" he asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
"Huh?" I blinked at him, surprised by the question.
"For the grand opening of my new restaurant," he clarified, leaning forward slightly.
I chuckled softly, teasing him. "Our first date isn't even over, and you're already asking for another? What makes you so sure I'll say yes?"
He leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, I have faith," he said confidently.
I laughed, shaking my head. "I thought you didn't believe in faith or any of that."
"I didn't," he replied, his voice lowering as his gaze softened, "until I met you."
A warmth spread through me, and I couldn't help but smile at his words. He was far more charming than I'd expected, and I found myself enjoying his company more than I had anticipated.
"So, will you be my date?" he asked again, more earnestly this time.
I pretended to consider it for a moment. "Will I get to try your new menu?"
He raised an eyebrow, giving me a mock-serious look. "Are you serious right now?"
I shrugged, grinning. "Food is my weakness."
He sighed dramatically but smiled. "Yes, you'll get to try the new menu."
"Then I'd love to be your date," I replied with a wide smile, feeling a sense of excitement bubbling inside me.
Soon, the waiter placed our food in front of us, and my mouth watered just looking at it. The presentation was immaculate, like art on a plate, each element carefully arranged to entice the eyes before the taste buds.
I couldn't resist reaching for one of the lemon wedges that had been elegantly placed as a garnish. Without thinking, I brought it to my lips and slowly sucked the juice. The sharp tangy flavor hit my tongue, and I closed my eyes, savoring the rush of sourness that I secretly loved.
It was only after I set the lemon back on the plate that I realized what I'd done. I glanced at Raghav, and for a split second, I caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. But just as quickly, his face returned to its usual calm expression, making me wonder if I'd imagined it. My face flushed with embarrassment. That little quirk of mine, sucking on lemons like candy, was something my mother always scolded me for, yet here I was, doing it on a first date.
I shrugged the thoughts away because I'd already spent half of my life molding myself to fit my parents' expectations. I wasn't about to spend the other half changing who I was just to make a future partner happy. I couldn't keep compromising myself anymore
I felt a nervous flutter in my chest and quickly averted my gaze, hoping he wouldn't say anything. I half-expected him to be like my parents-judging me for every small, eccentric habit. I picked up my fork and knife, but my appetite seemed to fade under the weight of embarrassment. My mind raced with self-conscious thoughts, wondering if I'd just ruined the entire mood.
Then, without warning, Raghav pushed his own lemon wedges onto my plate. "You like them, right? You can have mine," he said, his voice so nonchalant it made my heart swell.
I bit my lip, my cheeks burning. "Thanks," I murmured, feeling a mixture of relief and disbelief. I'd expected judgment, but instead, he simply accepted me as I was. For the first time in a long while, I felt seen, without the pressure to change or fit into some mold.
I hadn't realized how tense I'd been until he said my name softly, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Divya, don't feel embarrassed. Just be yourself. I like you for who you are. I wouldn't want you to change-not for me, or for anyone."
Those words were like a balm to my soul, and suddenly, I felt lighter. His acceptance gave me the courage I needed, and with a smile tugging at my lips, I finally dug into the meal.
The chicken was exquisite-tender and juicy, bathed in a creamy sauce that balanced richness and subtle tanginess. Each bite was a beautiful dance of flavors, the spinach adding a slight bitterness that complemented the creamy texture perfectly. The more I ate, the more I marveled at Raghav's impeccable taste. It wasn't just the food; it was the entire experience-rich, warm, and utterly satisfying, like he knew exactly how to curate the perfect moment.
By the time I finished, I was more than just full-I was content in a way that went beyond the meal itself. It felt like the evening had wrapped me in a cocoon of comfort and ease, something I hadn't expected.
The waitress soon returned, clearing our plates and heading off to fetch dessert. Raghav turned to me, his eyes softer than usual. "So, did you like the food?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.
I nodded enthusiastically, my earlier embarrassment long gone. "It was amazing."
He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction. There was a warmth about him tonight, a playfulness that I hadn't seen before, and it made my heart flutter.
Then, clearing his throat as if preparing to drop another surprise, he said, "I have something for you."
I blinked in surprise, my eyes widening. A gift? On a first date? Raghav, it seemed, was full of surprises.
Before I could say anything, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He placed it in front of me, his expression expectant but calm.
I stared at it, momentarily speechless. Could this man be any more charming?