44

Tara stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the dainty gold earrings she had just put on. The warm Oxford evening called for something light, so she had chosen an elegant yet effortless outfit—a black satin slip dress that fell just below her knees, paired with a cropped beige cardigan draped loosely over her shoulders. Her hair was in soft waves, framing her face, and a subtle touch of makeup highlighted her sharp features.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she heard the familiar knock on her door.

When she opened it, Aisha and Aria stood there, both dressed stylishly—Aisha in a sleek jumpsuit and Aria in a floral wrap dress.

"Damn, girl," Aisha whistled, stepping inside. "Who are you dressing up for?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "For myself."

"Hmm," Aria hummed, shutting the door behind her. "Are you sure it's not for a certain someone who's been looking at you like you're the only person in the room?"

Tara sighed, leaning against the vanity. "Let me guess—you're talking about Aryan."

"Obviously." Aisha flopped onto her bed. "T, what is going on with you two? You guys don't talk for years, and now suddenly, he's acting like you're still together?"

Tara exhaled deeply. "It's not that simple."

"Then explain," Aria said gently.

Tara bit her lip, thinking of the last few days—the way Aryan held her hand under the table, the way he showed up at her door, the way he looked at her like he still owned a piece of her.

"He wants me back," she admitted finally.

Aria exclaimed, "Wait! What?"

Tara sighed, "Yeah."  She looked at her friends and explained the whole situation. How he suddenly showed up telling her he wanted her—or his persistence.

Aisha sat up straighter. "And?"

"And I don't know," Tara murmured.

Aria crossed her arms. "Do you want to be back with him?"

Tara looked away. That was the real question, wasn't it? She knew she still felt something—how could she not? But she also remembered the pain, the way things had shattered.

"I don't know," she said again, softer this time.

Aisha groaned. "God, this is such a slow burn. I swear, the two of you could be a tragic romance novel."

Tara let out a small laugh. "Maybe we are."

Aria smiled. "Maybe it doesn't have to be tragic."

Tara shook her head, trying to push the thoughts aside. "Can we just go? I need a drink."

Aisha smirked. "Now that I can support."

The three of them grabbed their purses and headed out, stepping into the cool Oxford night, unaware that across town, Aryan was already waiting at the restaurant—waiting for her.

The warm glow of fairy lights wrapped around the trees outside Brass & Co., one of Oxford's most charming restaurants on High Street. The vintage wooden doors opened to a softly lit interior, where the aroma of fresh pasta and grilled meat lingered in the air. A small live band played in the corner, the smooth strumming of a guitar blending with the rich voice of the singer, who crooned an old classic.

Tara, Aisha, and Aria stepped inside, scanning the cozy space until they spotted the boys at a large table near the window. Rohan, Karan, Aakash, and Aryan were already seated, drinks in hand, deep in conversation. The moment Aryan looked up and saw her, the chatter around him seemed to fade.

She looked breathtaking.

The soft lighting accentuated the glow of her skin, and the black satin dress hugged her in a way that made it impossible not to stare. Aryan felt something shift in his chest—an ache, a longing, something he had no control over. But he didn't say anything. He simply watched as she walked toward them, forcing himself to act normal.

"Finally, you girls took your time," Rohan teased as they reached the table.

"We had to make an entrance," Aisha said with a grin, sliding into a chair.

Tara took the seat across from Aryan, purposefully avoiding his gaze as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The conversations flowed easily—talk of classes, upcoming projects, a bit of harmless gossip about professors. The live singer switched to a slow, romantic tune, and someone in the restaurant clapped along softly.

Tara reached for her glass of wine at the same time Aryan did for his, and their eyes met over the rim. She quickly looked away, but not before Aryan caught the slight hesitation in her gaze.

A few minutes later, as Karan cracked a joke, Tara laughed, shaking her head. Aryan's lips curled into a faint smile just watching her.

At one point, Aria nudged Tara under the table, whispering, "He hasn't taken his eyes off you."

Tara sipped her drink, pretending not to hear.

Aryan leaned back in his chair, running a thumb over the rim of his glass. "Tara," he said suddenly, his voice smooth but quiet.

She finally met his gaze. "What?"

He held her stare for a moment too long before shrugging, smirking slightly. "Nothing."

Her brows furrowed, but she didn't press. And yet, through the entire dinner, their eyes found each other again and again—like a silent conversation neither of them knew how to end.

Dinner was in full swing, laughter and conversation filling the air as plates were passed around and glasses clinked. The aroma of fresh herbs and cheese lingered between them, the warmth of the restaurant making everything feel softer, more intimate.

Tara sat back, feeling pleasantly full, but her eyes kept drifting toward Aryan's plate of white sauce pasta. It looked really good—creamy, rich, and perfectly cooked. She debated internally whether to order another dish, but before she could decide, Aryan casually leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly.

"Guys, I think I'm full," he said, setting down his fork. Then, without missing a beat, he added, "Can someone finish this?" His gaze, however, was fixed directly on Tara.

She blinked, slightly taken aback.

Rohan, catching on immediately, smirked. "Tara, you were anyway thinking of ordering more, right? Just finish this." He slid Aryan's plate in front of her without waiting for a response.

Tara stared at the plate, then at Aryan, realization dawning on her. He knew. He had noticed her eyeing his food.

She sat there for a second, debating whether to call him out on it, but before she could, Aryan lifted his eyebrows slightly, gesturing toward the plate. Eat up, his expression seemed to say.

Letting out a small sigh, she twirled her fork into the pasta and took a bite. The moment the creamy sauce hit her tongue, she knew she was done for. It was really good.

Aryan, watching her reaction, let out a soft chuckle. He had known she would love it.

She shot him a look, chewing slowly, but he just chuckled lovingly and went back to sipping his drink.

Some things never changed.

💜