R. Cozy Sofa

"Note : Happy Valentine's, my dazzling readers! 💘 I wanted to upload this on Feb 16th, but hey consider this a Valentine's gift!  "

She swung open the door and I dumped our bags inside, immediately spotting the world's most optimistic bed. Seriously, who designed this thing – a minimalist monk? One person would barely fit, let alone two. And that sofa? It was basically screaming "Future Backache Here!"

Shraddha went through her whole getting-ready routine , gulp of water, bathroom trip, outfit change, while I did the same, trying to pretend the air wasn't thick enough to cut with a knife. We both did that awkward phone-charging dance, me plugging in right away, her conducting a full-scale archaeological dig for her charger before finally finding it behind, surprise surprise, her phone.

She grabbed a book and started "reading"—and by reading, I mean aggressively flipping pages while radiating enough negative energy to power a small city. Her grip on the book was tight, her jaw set like she was contemplating murder (and I had a sinking feeling I was the intended target).

"Still mad?" I ventured, because apparently, I hate peace.

"Mad? Never heard of her." Her tone could've frozen hell over, and I swear the temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees.

"Right... you just look kind of murdery."

Her fingers drummed against the book's spine in a rhythm that felt a little too much like a countdown to my demise. "Do tell—what exactly would I have to be mad about?" She didn't look up from her book, which she was definitely not reading unless she'd mastered the art of reading upside down.

"Nothing! Just that you're looking at me like I'm a juicy steak and you're a hungry lion." I casually spill these words.

"Oh, so now I'm a vampire AND a lion?" Her eyebrow arched, a dangerous glint in her eye.

"I never said vampire!"

What do you do with a girl who cycles through emotions faster than a Instagram feed? One second, she's ready to burn me alive, the next, she's... oh no.

I was about to embrace my fate with the demon sofa when she dropped the bomb: "Just get in the bed, you drama queen."

"It's microscopic!"

"We'll squeeze." Was that a glint in her eye? Oh, it absolutely was.

"Are you out of your mind? What's your master plan here, we pretzel ourselves together? One wrong move and I'll be testing gravity!"

Instead of answering, she went full octopus mode, legs over mine, arm around my waist, grabbing my hand and planting it on her hip like she was arranging furniture.

"There. Problem solved!" she declared, looking way too pleased with herself.

"Solved? I feel like a human straight jacket! I can't sleep like this I need my space! My arms have rights!"

The look she gave me screamed dense idiot in about fifty different languages. I must've missed some memo about appropriate responses to being turned into a human pretzel.

"I'm still gonna fall," I whined.

The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of the AC. A warm yellow light from the bedside lamp made the beige walls look even cozier. The bed was way too soft, like it was trying to pull me in, and the white bedsheets, fresh but a little messy now, smelled like lavender detergent. The air felt different, heavy, like something big was about to happen.

Her response? Yanking me closer until our faces were practically sharing air.

My brain? Completely fried. My heart? Doing backflips like it was training for the Olympics.

Her dark eyes locked onto mine, and suddenly, blinking felt illegal. She was looking at me like she knew something I didn't. Was she messing with me? Testing me? Or was this actually happening?

We were so close I could count her freckles, maybe even connect them like a secret map leading straight to trouble. And—oh fuck—was she getting even closer? DO NOT PLEASE!

Her lips were moving toward mine like heat-seeking missiles.

This had full-on rom-com energy—except for one small problem.

I could still taste the dal from dinner. Nothing says sexy like legume breath, right?

Before I could panic, she did this silly little Eskimo kiss, rubbing her nose against mine in the most unexpected way. It was soft, playful, almost like she was teasing me, and her grin was so sneaky it could start a riot. It felt like time slowed down for a second as our noses brushed, her skin warm and slightly rough against mine, sending a jolt straight through me. I had no idea what to do—was this a joke? A game?

And then—fucking plot twist—she burst out laughing, the sound light and teasing, and pulled back like it was nothing. The moment deflated faster than a popped balloon, leaving me standing there, completely caught off guard, my heart still racing.

"Shraddha! Have some shame!" I squeaked, sounding about as dignified as a rubber duck being stepped on.

"ME? You're the one who just lay there like a starstruck teenager!"

"I tried to stop you!"

"When? In your head?"

"This is all new to me, okay? I don't usually get attacked by giggly octopuses in hotel rooms!"

"Aww, poor baby. But wait, haven't you kissed loads of people?"

"One! Just one! It was... research."

"Want to do more research?" She wiggled her eyebrows like a cartoon villain.

"That's not—I didn't—ARGH!" I yanked the blanket over my head, trying to hide from both her and my own embarrassment. What's going on with Shraddha today? Is it Valentine's Day or did the ghost of love just possess her? Why is she laying there on the bed like she's been hit with Cupid's paintbrush? Control yourself, Shraddha, I swear on your colors, I honestly can't even figure out what's happening right now!

The next morning was Peak Awkward™. Breakfast felt like a scene from a bad soap opera—Kailash sulking like his coffee had personally offended him, me questioning every life choice that led to this moment, and Shraddha... well, being Shraddha.

During the great car escape, with Kailash claiming shotgun faster than a Wild West gunslinger, Vishwas decided to play relationship counselor.

"So, Kailash, found love yet?"

"Nope." If one word could kill...

"There must be someone..."

"There ISN'T!"

"Why so grumpy? Are you five?"

"YES! I AM FIVE! AND NOW I'M FIVE AND ANGRY!"

Meanwhile, I'm in the backseat having an existential crisis. Was last night a joke? A test? A fever dream? The way Shraddha thanked Kailash for handling her bag (which weighed approximately as much as a small car, of course not!).

I swear, at this point, I'm about to create history by rejecting every person in my life. Maybe that was a joke... or maybe I'm just overthinking everything.

I took a deep breath to calm my stress and told myself, Achievement unlocked: Peak Confusion!