61

The air smelled of earth and freshly fallen leaves as Tara walked through the small park just outside their accommodation, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater. The day had been chilly, but she hadn't thought much about it when she'd stepped out. She only had to pick up a few things from the local store, and she'd be back soon.

But then she saw it—a small, scruffy puppy curled up beneath a wooden bench, shivering slightly as it sniffed at the damp ground.

Tara crouched down immediately, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

"Hey there, little guy." She reached out slowly, letting the puppy sniff her fingers before gently scratching behind its ear.

The puppy wagged its tail, pressing into her touch, and Tara chuckled. She completely forgot about the time, about how dark the sky was growing. Instead, she picked up a twig and wiggled it in front of the pup. It yipped excitedly and pounced on it, making her laugh.

She was so lost in the moment that she didn't notice the way the wind had picked up, or how the clouds had thickened overhead. Not until she felt the first cold droplet land on her cheek.

She looked up.

The rain started slow—gentle, barely noticeable. But within seconds, the sky opened up, and the drizzle turned into heavy, icy sheets.

"Shit," she muttered, standing up quickly.

Only then did she realize—she hadn't brought a jacket.

The cold rain seeped through her thin sweater almost instantly, clinging to her skin, and she shivered. The puppy had already darted off to find shelter under a nearby bush, leaving her alone in the open.

Tara exhaled sharply and pulled her arms closer to herself, preparing to make a run for it. But just as she turned toward the accommodation, she saw a figure walking toward her, carefully stepping through the rain.

Meeta.

Tara's breath hitched slightly in surprise.

Meeta wasn't carrying an umbrella for herself—she was carrying it for Tara.

Without hesitation, she stepped beside her and held it up, angling it so that Tara was covered more than she was.

"You'll catch a cold," Meeta said softly, her voice barely audible over the rain.

Tara blinked at her, momentarily frozen.

She didn't know what to say.

For so long, she had associated this woman with fear, with cold disapproval. But now, standing here, getting partially soaked just so she could protect Tara from the rain—Meeta didn't seem so intimidating anymore.

She just seemed... like a mother.

"Thank you," Tara murmured after a pause, her voice quieter than usual.

Meeta gave a small nod. "Come, let's get inside."

They walked in silence, side by side under the umbrella, their feet splashing against the wet pavement.

From a distance, Aryan stood under the shelter of the entrance, his arms crossed as he watched them. He felt something warm spread through his chest as he saw them walk. His fingers tapped against his arms, his expression unreadable as he looked out.

That was when he saw them.

His mom, walking through the rain, holding the umbrella over Tara more than herself. And Tara, looking up at Meeta with wide eyes, as if she couldn't believe what was happening.

A soft smile tugged at Aryan's lips.

For a long time, Tara had been scared of his mom. And his mom—while trying—was still figuring out how to reach Tara. But in this small, quiet moment, it felt like something had shifted. Like some invisible wall between them had cracked, just a little.

Aryan watched as they stepped into the building, shaking off the cold before getting into the lift.

As the three of them stood inside, the warm air of the elevator contrasting the cold dampness of their clothes, Tara suddenly sneezed.

Aryan turned to her immediately, his brows pulling together. "Mom, she catches a cold so easily," he said, sounding half annoyed, half concerned.

Meeta glanced at Tara, then without hesitation, said, "Then come home and drink chai before you go rest."

Tara's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head. "No, no, I'll be fine."

Aryan just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

As they stepped out of the elevator and reached her studio, Tara muttered a quick goodnight and went inside. But before she could even shut the door—

"ACHOO."

Aryan chuckled, standing outside her door with his arms crossed. "Right. You'll be fine."

Tara groaned softly and sniffled, rubbing her nose as she stood there, clearly too tired to argue.

Aryan didn't say anything else. Instead, he walked past her into her studio, heading straight to her wardrobe.

Tara blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Finding you something warm to wear," Aryan replied casually, picking out a pair of track pants and a cozy oversized top. He turned, handing them to her. "Go shower and change. Fast."

Tara hesitated for a second, then sighed, knowing she didn't really have the energy to argue. She took the clothes from him and went to shower.

When she stepped out, towel-drying her damp hair, she saw Aryan putting her bag away in its usual spot.

He looked up when he heard her footsteps. His eyes quickly scanned her, taking in the way the warm, oversized top slightly slipped off her shoulder, her damp hair curling at the ends. He didn't say anything, just nodded in approval.

"Chal," he said, stepping toward her.

Tara frowned. "Where?"

Aryan didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly, and picked up her phone from the table.

"Come."

Tara sighed, too tired to fight him. She let him lead her out of her studio, his grip warm and steady around her wrist. As they walked toward his flat, the exhaustion from the cold and the rain was settling into her bones, but for some reason, she didn't mind being pulled along by Aryan.

Because deep down, she knew—whether she admitted it or not—he always took care of her.

As soon as Tara stepped into Aryan's studio, her eyes landed on Rajeev and Meeta sitting comfortably in the living area. A wave of nervousness washed over her. It was one thing to be around Aryan, but being alone with his parents—especially after everything—felt overwhelming.

She instinctively tried to pull her hand away from Aryan's grip, but he held on tighter, his fingers wrapping more securely around hers.

"You sit, I'll make chai," Aryan said casually, as if everything was normal.

"No, no, it's okay—" Tara started, shaking her head, but Rajeev cut her off.

"Nonsense," he said firmly, giving her a knowing look. "I can see the cold on your face. Sit down."

Left with no other option, Tara slowly lowered herself onto the couch, hands fidgeting in her lap.

Rajeev smiled warmly. "So, Tara, how's work going?"

Tara hesitated for a second before answering, "It's going well. A bit hectic, but good."

Aryan, busy in the kitchen, called out, "She's being humble. We're working on a restaurant local business project too."

Rajeev raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh? That sounds impressive. Do you need any help?"

Tara blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected Rajeev to offer, but now that he had, she realized his business expertise could actually be really valuable.

"I... I don't mind, if that's okay?" she said cautiously.

Rajeev chuckled. "Of course, it's okay. Show me what you've got."

Without wasting a second, Tara quickly got up and went to grab her laptop from her studio. When she returned, she sat beside Rajeev and opened up her work.

"This is our front-end interface," she explained, pulling up the sleek, user-friendly design of the restaurant's online platform. "It's optimized for both desktop and mobile use. We also included a feature for local restaurant owners to manage their inventory and track sales in real-time."

Rajeev nodded, impressed. "That's smart. You're thinking about the business owners, not just the customers."

She then switched tabs and pulled up her business proposal. "Here's the breakdown of our projected growth, investment requirements, and expected return. We're targeting independent restaurants that don't have the resources for large-scale digital marketing."

Rajeev leaned forward, scanning the details. "This is solid work, Tara." He started making a few edits and suggestions, pointing out areas they could improve.

Meeta, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "You're doing a good job, beta."

Tara's fingers froze on her laptop keyboard. She turned to Meeta, startled.

For a second, she hesitated, but then she managed a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, aunty."

Meeta's heart clenched. She could still see the hesitation in Tara's eyes, the fear that hadn't fully left. But at least, for now, she had managed to get through a tiny bit.

Just then, Aryan walked in with four cups of chai. "Chai's here," he announced, setting the cups down on the table.

As they sipped, Rajeev continued giving feedback, and both Aryan and Tara listened intently. Aryan felt a sense of pride—not just in their project but in the way Tara was slowly opening up to his parents.

When Tara finished her chai, she set the cup down and stood up. "I think I'll leave now. Thank you for the chai."

Then, she turned to Rajeev. "And... thanks for the help, uncle."

Finally, she looked at Meeta. There was a slight hesitation, but then she gave a small, more confident smile than before. "Bye, aunty."

Meeta smiled back. "Bye, beta."

As Tara left, Meeta's heart felt lighter. Rajeev glanced at her knowingly.

"That's progress," he said quietly.

Meeta nodded, still smiling. "Baby steps."

💜