59

The train finally pulled into Oxford Station, the familiar glow of streetlights greeting them as they stepped onto the platform. Despite the exhaustion settling in after a long day, there was still a buzz of energy among them, their conversations filled with laughter and the occasional yawn.

Aisha stretched dramatically, groaning. "I swear, my feet are about to file a complaint against me."

Karan snorted. "Your feet? My entire body is protesting."

Rohan pulled out his phone, already opening the Uber app. "I'll book one XL. No way are we squeezing into just a normal one."

Aryan nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, his gaze flickering toward Tara, who was quietly fixing the strap of her tote bag, the bouquet of flowers still tucked inside. He felt a small smile tug at his lips but said nothing.

As they waited by the curb, everyone pulled out their phones, Airdropping pictures to one another. The constant buzz of incoming files filled the air.

"Oh my God, look at this one!" Aria cackled, flipping her phone around to show a picture of Karan mid-sneeze in front of Buckingham Palace.

"Delete that," Karan deadpanned.

"No way," she grinned, immediately setting it as the new profile picture of their group.

Aisha was swiping through her gallery when she gasped. "Guys, this is the best one."

She held up a perfectly timed group photo from Trafalgar Square— all of them mid-laughter, a random pigeon photobombing in the background.

Rohan burst out laughing. "Why does Aakash look like he's arguing with the bird?"

Aakash scoffed. "I probably was."

Aryan smirked at the banter, but his attention kept drifting toward Tara, who was scrolling through her own pictures quietly, her fingers hovering over one in particular.

Before he could say anything, the Ubers arrived. They piled into the cars, the ride back filled with sleepy chatter and the occasional burst of laughter.

By the time they reached their accommodation, exhaustion had truly set in.

The group stood outside the main entrance, exchanging their final laughs before murmuring their goodnights.

One by one, they dispersed, heading up to their respective floors after giving each other hugs.

Tara and Aryan reached their corridor, their studios across from each other.

Tara let out a tired sigh, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Well, good night—"

Just as she reached for her door handle, Aryan gently took her hand.

Tara's fingers twitched in Aryan's hold, her heart hammering at the sudden closeness. She looked up at him, her voice coming out hesitant.

"What's going on, Aryan?"

He didn't let go of her hand. Instead, his grip tightened slightly, firm yet gentle. His dark eyes searched hers, filled with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

"Star," he said softly, voice raw with honesty. "I want you back. What's it gonna take?"

Tara swallowed, her breath catching in her throat. She looked away, her defenses threatening to crumble.

Aryan exhaled, his voice dropping lower, smoother. "I know your guard is melting, baby. Why are you fighting us?" He stepped a little closer, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "Did you not see how Mom was with you? She's trying. I'm trying. You're the only one still running."

Tara's lips parted, but no words came out. She didn't have an answer, at least not one she was ready to admit.

Aryan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before his gaze flickered to her door. "Open your door, come."

Tara blinked, confused. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the door. "Open kar na."

Something about the way he said it—so casually, so comfortably—made her chest ache. She hesitated for just a second before finally unlocking her door and stepping inside, Aryan following her in.

She turned to him, arms crossed. "Now what?"

He smirked, heading straight to her kitchen. "You want coffee?"

Tara stared at him, baffled. Here he was, standing in her space like he belonged there, like this was normal. But instead of pushing him away, she felt a wave of exhaustion hit her.

"Okay."

Aryan glanced over his shoulder with a small smile before getting to work. Tara leaned against the counter, watching as he moved around her kitchen like he'd done it a million times before. The familiar clinking of mugs, the soft hum of the kettle, the rich aroma of coffee—everything felt oddly comforting.

As the coffee brewed, Aryan walked over to her tote bag, pulling out the bouquet of flowers he had given her. Without a word, he stepped to the small vase on her shelf, gently arranging the flowers inside.

Tara watched him, a small, involuntary smile tugging at her lips.

Aryan caught it. "You're smiling."

She rolled her eyes, quickly looking away. "Shut up."

His quiet chuckle filled the space as he handed her the mug. They moved to the couch, sitting side by side, the atmosphere surprisingly light.

"So," he leaned back, stretching his arm across the top of the couch. "What did you think of the trip?"

Tara exhaled, curling her fingers around the warm mug. She took a slow sip, savoring the heat before finally speaking.

"It was nice," she said simply, her voice quieter than usual.

Aryan raised an eyebrow, watching her closely. "Nice? That's all you're giving me? We went to THE Harry Potter World, Buckingham Palace, danced in the middle of the street like maniacs, and you're calling it 'nice'?"

Tara smirked, shaking her head. "Okay, fine. It was... fun."

Aryan hummed, nodding. "Better." He tilted his head, studying her expression. "What was your favorite part?"

Tara hesitated for a moment before setting her mug down on the coffee table. "I think... Harry Potter World and the train ride."

Aryan's lips twitched. "Because you slept through most of it?"

She let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the couch. "Maybe."

"What else did you like?" He asked.

Her finger circled around her coffee cup, "London Eye."

Aryan chuckled too, but his voice was softer when he spoke next. "Was it the view? Or.... was it because of the flowers?"

Tara stiffened slightly, her fingers twitching in her lap. She didn't say anything, but the way her eyes flickered to the vase for a brief second was enough of an answer.

Aryan smiled, a mix of knowing and satisfaction. "I meant it, you know."

She turned to him, confused. "Meant what?"

He leaned in just a little, voice dropping lower. "That I haven't forgotten a single dream of yours, Star."

Tara's breath hitched. The way he said it—so soft, so sure—made something in her chest clench.

She swallowed hard, looking away. "Aryan... don't."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just—" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply before leaning back again, giving her space. "Fine."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Not awkward, not tense—just thick with something unspoken.

Then Aryan cleared his throat, shifting gears. "You know, I think my dad likes you."

Tara blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"

Aryan smirked. "He called you 'beta' and everything. That's like peak Rajeev Deshmukh approval right there."

Tara rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched. "I've met him before, you know. It's not like this is new."

Aryan shrugged. "Yeah, but that was for barely 15-20 minutes, before we even dated. But this time, he knows what you mean to me."

That made her pause. What she meant to him.

She looked down at her coffee, fingers tightening around the mug. "Aryan..."

"Hmm?"

She inhaled sharply, but at the last second, she lost the courage to say whatever had almost slipped out. Instead, she shook her head. "Never mind."

Aryan watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. But instead of pushing, he just nodded. "Okay."

Tara glanced at him, a little surprised he wasn't pressing her for answers. But at the same time, she was grateful.

She sighed, rubbing her temple. "It's late. You should go sleep."

Aryan chuckled, standing up. "You just want me out of your studio."

Tara smirked slightly. "Maybe."

He shook his head, but before leaving, he reached for her wrist and tugged gently. Not enough to pull her toward him, just enough for her to feel it.

"Goodnight, Star," he murmured.

Tara looked up at him, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't look away immediately.

"Goodnight, Aryan."

And as he walked out, he smiled to himself—because for the first time in a long time, it felt like she wasn't running away.

💜