65

Tara stirred awake, her body wrapped in the soft warmth of her blanket, but the moment she opened her eyes, a flood of last night's memories hit her like a wave.

The kiss.

Her lips tingled at the thought, and she groaned, burying her face into her pillow. "Oh god," she muttered, trying to will away the way her heart was racing again.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes landing on the blue saree draped over her chair. The same saree she had worn last night when Aryan had looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

Her fingers absentmindedly traced her lips as she recalled the way he had held her, the way he had kissed her—slowly, deeply, like he had been waiting for it for too long.

A soft, involuntary smile crept onto her face.

She still liked him.

Who was she even kidding? She never stopped liking him.

But as soon as the warmth settled in, so did the familiar fear.

His parents.

His mother had been kind, she had helped her with the saree, but that didn't mean things had completely changed. What if this was just a moment? What if this wasn't meant to last?

Her smile faltered, and she sat up, running a hand through her hair. She needed to be careful. She couldn't just let herself fall all over again, not if there was a chance she could break harder this time.

Still, no matter how much she tried to be cautious, she couldn't deny the way her stomach flipped when she thought of Aryan.

Meanwhile, across the hall, Aryan lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a stupid, lovestruck grin.

He had kissed her. Finally.

And she kissed him back.

He turned onto his side, biting back a chuckle as he replayed every moment—the way she had clung to his shirt, the way she melted against him, the way she didn't push him away.

"Oh, you're so mine," he muttered to himself, shaking his head with a smirk.

For the first time in forever, he felt light. Like everything that had been weighing him down had suddenly disappeared.

He wasn't letting her go this time.

Sitting up, he grabbed his phone, opening his chats. His fingers hovered over their conversation, debating whether to text her, but he stopped himself.

No. He wanted to ask her out properly this time. No hesitation, no miscommunication.

This time, he'd make sure she knew that there was no running away from them.

~•~

The morning sun streamed through the large windows of the café, casting a warm golden hue over the polished wooden tables. Aryan leaned back in his chair, lazily stirring his coffee, a faraway smirk playing on his lips.

Karan, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his espresso. "Okay, dude. What's up with you?" he asked, setting his cup down. "You look like a guy who just won the lottery or... wait—" His eyes narrowed slightly before they widened in realization. "No way. No freaking way."

Aryan just smirked, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

"Don't give me that smug look, tell me what happened!" Karan demanded, leaning forward.

Aryan exhaled dramatically, as if debating whether to share, before finally saying, "I kissed her."

Karan's jaw dropped. "WHAT?"

Aryan laughed at his reaction, shaking his head. "Yeah, man. Last night, after the cultural event. We were walking home, just talking, and then... it just happened."

Karan blinked, then grinned. "And? What did she do? Did she kiss you back?"

Aryan's smirk deepened. "Oh, she kissed me back. Didn't push me away, didn't slap me, didn't curse me out. She wanted it."

Karan let out an exaggerated whistle. "Damn. And here I thought you were stuck in your sad boy era forever."

Aryan chuckled. "Yeah, well. I was. Until last night."

Karan leaned back, rubbing his chin. "So what now? Are you gonna ask her out again, or are we playing this whole 'slow burn, will-they-won't-they' thing again?"

Aryan sighed, shaking his head. "No, I'm done waiting. I want her back. But I need to do it right this time. No pressure, no forcing things. She's still a little... hesitant."

Karan hummed in understanding. "Because of your parents?"

"Yeah," Aryan admitted. "She's still scared of my mom. And even though Mom helped her yesterday, I know Tara still doesn't fully trust that everything's fine between them."

Karan nodded. "Makes sense. She went through a lot when you guys first broke up."

Aryan exhaled. "I know."

Karan leaned forward, his expression turning serious as he rested his arms on the café table. "Listen, bro, Tara's not just scared of getting hurt again—she's scared of everything that comes with you."

Aryan frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Karan exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "It's not just about you two breaking up before. It's your family, your mom especially. She's afraid that even if she lets herself love you again, something will happen, and she'll end up right where she was—hurt, pushed away, and feeling like an outsider."

Aryan ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in frustration. "But things are different now. Mom is really trying. I told you, she even helped Tara with the saree yesterday."

Karan nodded. "Yeah, and that was a huge step. But put yourself in Tara's shoes. She's been on the other side of this before. Maybe Meeta Aunty is being nice now, but Tara's probably thinking—what if it changes again? What if she's okay with me today but not tomorrow? She's protecting herself from that."

Aryan exhaled slowly. "So what do I do?"

Karan tapped the table. "You prove to her that this isn't temporary. That your mom actually likes her, not just tolerates her for your sake. And you show her that you won't let anything or anyone come between you again. She needs to believe that if she chooses you, she's not choosing heartbreak again."

Aryan nodded, the weight of Karan's words settling in. "Yeah. You're right."

Karan smirked. "Of course, I'm right. Now, the question is—how are you gonna do it?"

💛