Morning - 6:45 AM
Rishaan's POV:
Rishaan had woken up at dawn, earlier than usual. The city was still quiet, the streets mostly empty, and he'd decided to go for a run before the day officially began.
The morning air was crisp and cool as he jogged through the still-quiet streets of Hyderabad. The city was just beginning to wake up, a few street vendors setting up their stalls, early morning joggers in the parks, the occasional auto-rickshaw puttering along.
He found himself smiling for no particular reason. Or rather, for one very particular reason that he was trying not to think too hard about.
It had been four days. Just four days since Anvitha and Ahaan's engagement party, since he'd first really talked to Samaira, since she'd walked into his life in that blue saree and turned everything upside down.
Four days, and he was already rearranging his mornings to work out with her. Making sure she had breakfast. Letting her drive his Ferrari without a second thought. Thinking about her when she wasn't around and looking forward to seeing her when she was.
This is dangerous, he thought. You're falling too fast.
But he couldn't seem to stop himself.
His running route happened to take him past her building, and as he slowed to a jog near the entrance, he spotted a familiar figure standing outside. Samaira was waiting there, her gym bag slung over her shoulder, dressed in black leggings and an oversized maroon sweatshirt, her hair in a ponytail. Somehow, she still managed to look beautiful at 7 AM without trying.
She looked up as he approached, surprise flickering across her face.
"Good morning," Samaira's voice came through, warm and slightly amused. "You're awake. Actually awake this time."
"I told you, I'm a morning person."
"You also told me that yesterday, and I distinctly remember your voice sounding like you'd swallowed gravel when I called."
"That was a one-time thing. A fluke. An anomaly in the data."
"An anomaly," she repeated, laughing. "You're using my engineering language against me."
"Is it working?"
"Maybe".
" What are you doing here?"
"Morning run." He gestured to his athletic gear, still slightly breathless. "My route goes past your building."
"Convenient route."
"Pure coincidence." He grinned. "Heading to the gym?"
"Yeah, I was about to walk."
"I'll walk with you."
She raised an eyebrow. "You just finished running."
"So I'll cool down on the walk. Come on, it's not far."
She smiled, adjusting her gym bag. "Alright. Lead the way."
They fell into step together, and the conversation flowed easily, her Maranello call that morning (another aerodynamics issue, naturally), his grandmother's call last night (checking if he was eating properly, as always), the wedding timeline she'd finished and sent to Anvitha at midnight.
"Midnight?" Rishaan asked as they walked into the gym. "Samaira, you need to sleep."
"Says the man who runs two businesses simultaneously."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because I'm..." he paused, realising he didn't have a good answer. "Okay, fine. We're both terrible at work-life balance. Happy?"
"Thrilled."
The gym was empty again, just like yesterday, and they fell into an easy rhythm. Rishaan was starting to recognise her patterns. She always started with cardio, always ran with that faraway look in her eyes like she was solving problems in her head, always increased the incline gradually rather than all at once.
He was also starting to recognise how much he enjoyed just being near her, even in silence.
"Your grandmother called last night?" Samaira asked during their cooldown stretches. "Is she doing okay?"
"She's great. She lives in our hometown now, says Hyderabad is too loud and crowded for her." Rishaan smiled, thinking of his grandmother's last visit. "She's the only person in my family who actually... cares, you know? My parents see me as the heir to the business. She sees me as her grandson."
"That must have been lonely, growing up."
"It was," he admitted, surprised at how easy it was to tell her this. "My parents provided everything: good schools, a comfortable life, all the opportunities. But they were always so focused on building the business, on making sure I'd be ready to take over someday, that they forgot I was also just a kid who wanted them to show up to his school plays or ask about his day."
Samaira's expression softened. "Is that why you're so determined to make the startup work? Because it's yours, not theirs?"
"Partially. But also because I want to prove that I'm more than just someone who inherited a business. I want to build something from nothing, succeed on my own terms." He paused. "Does that sound arrogant?"
"No," she said quietly. "It sounds like someone who wants to be seen for who they really are, not just what they can provide. I understand that completely."
Their eyes met, and something passed between them: understanding, recognition, a shared loneliness that neither of them had voiced before.
"Your turn," Rishaan said, breaking the moment before it became too heavy. "Tell me about your parents. You mentioned your mother's cooking yesterday, and you clearly adore her."
Samaira's face lit up, the way it always did when she talked about her family. "My parents are... they're everything. They both worked so hard to give me opportunities they never had. Middle-class backgrounds, corporate jobs that paid the bills but never quite enough. But they never made me feel like we were struggling. They made me feel loved, supported, capable of anything."
"That's beautiful."
"It is. But it's also why I push myself so hard. They sacrificed so much for me, I can't let them down. I have to be successful enough to give them the comfortable life they deserve."
"Samaira," Rishaan said gently, "I'm sure they're already incredibly proud of you. You're a principal engineer at Ferrari. You're literally at the top of your field."
"I know. Logically, I know that. But there's always this voice in my head saying it's not enough, that I need to do more, achieve more, prove more."
"Maybe that voice needs to be quieter sometimes."
She smiled sadly. "Maybe. But I don't know how to turn it off."
"We'll figure it out together," Rishaan said, then immediately wondered if that was too presumptuous. "I mean, if you want. As friends. Who works out together? And talk about things."
Samaira laughed, the tension breaking. "Smooth, Rishaan. Very smooth."
"I have my moments."
They finished their workout around 8:30 AM, both pleasantly tired and energised at the same time.
"So, outfit shopping this afternoon," Rishaan said as they walked to the main gate. "Ready for round two of Anvitha's indecisiveness?"
"As ready as I'll ever be. Meher texted the group chat, We're meeting at the boutique at 2 PM."
"Perfect. That gives me time to finish some emails and have a call with my Pune client about the proposal revisions."
"And me time to review some technical documents Ferrari sent overnight."
As they walked to his apartment's main gate, Rishaan's phone rang. His grandmother's name flashed on the screen.
"Nannamma," he answered warmly. "Good morning."
"Bangaram," his grandmother's voice filled the car, affectionate and slightly concerned. "Did you eat breakfast? Are you taking care of yourself?"
"Yes,Nannamma. I had coffee and—"
"Coffee is not breakfast! How many times do I have to tell you? You need proper food, not just coffee."
Rishaan glanced at Samaira, who was clearly trying not to laugh. "I'll eat something after my call, I promise."
"You always say that and then you forget. I should come to Hyderabad and cook for you myself—"
"Nannamma, you don't need to do that. I'm fine, really."
"Fine is not the same as well-fed. When are you coming to visit? It's been three weeks."
"Soon. Maybe after Anvitha's wedding? I promise I'll come spend a few days."
"Good. And bring your appetite. I'll make all your favourites—gongura mutton, dosakaya pappu, pulusu..." His grandmother paused. "Who's that laughing in the background?"
Rishaan's eyes widened. He'd forgotten the call was on speaker. "That's... that's my friend Samaira. She's with me."
"Samaira?" His grandmother's tone immediately shifted from concerned to intrigued. "A girl? You're around a girl this early in the morning?"
"Nannamma, it's not, we were just at the gym—"
"The gym! Together! Chinna, is this someone special? Why haven't you told me about her?"
Samaira was now full-on grinning, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
"We're just friends, Nannamma. We have mutual friends, and—"
"Just friends don't go to the gym together at 7 AM. Hello, Samaira! Can you hear me?"
Samaira leaned slightly toward the phone. "Hello, Ammamma. Yes, I can hear you."
"Good! Tell me, are you feeding this boy? He forgets to eat when he's working."
"I made him breakfast yesterday," Samaira said, and Rishaan could hear the smile in her voice. "Dosas and chutney."
"Dosas! Wonderful! She's a keeper, nanna. Don't let this one get away."
"Nannamma—"
"I'm serious. A beautiful girl who cooks for you and gets you to exercise? Marry her immediately."
Rishaan's face was burning. "We've known each other for four days."
"So? Your grandfather proposed to me after three days. When you know, you know."
"That was a different generation—"
"Love doesn't change with generations. Only the excuses do."
Samaira was laughing now, not even trying to hide it anymore.
"Nannamma, I need to go. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Fine, fine. But Samaira—" his grandmother's voice softened, "—you seem like a lovely girl. Thank you for taking care of my grandson. He doesn't let people do that often."
"It's my pleasure, Ammamma," Samaira said sincerely. "He takes good care of me, too."
"As he should. Okay, I'll let you both go. Rishaan, eat something! And come visit soon. Samaira, you come too! I'll make you a proper Andhra meal."
"I'd love that," Samaira said.
After they hung up, there was a moment of silence. Then Samaira burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry," Rishaan said, mortified. "She's... she's a lot sometimes."
"She's wonderful," Samaira said, still laughing. "And she clearly adores you. 'Marry her immediately'—that's the best thing I've heard all week."
"She says that about every woman I mention."
"Do you mention women to her often?"
"No," he admitted. "Actually, you're the first person I've mentioned in... a while."
That seemed to quiet her laughter, replacing it with something softer. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
They'd reached the building entrance, and Rishaan stood at the same spot as yesterday. Neither of them moved to get out.
"Your grandmother seems really loving," Samaira said eventually. "It must be nice, having someone in your family who cares like that."
"It is. She's the reason I didn't completely close off after my parents' emotional distance. She showed me that family could mean warmth and care, not just obligation." He looked at her. "You're lucky, having both parents who love like that."
"I know. I don't take it for granted." Samaira checked her watch. "I should let you go. You have your client call."
"Right. And you have technical documents to review."
"See you at 2?"
"See you at 2."
Samaira grabbed her gym bag and started to move out of the gate, but turned back. "For what it's worth, your grandmother is right. You do need to eat more than just coffee."
"You sound like her."
"Good. Someone needs to look out for you." She smiled. "Thanks for walking me till the gate even though you don't need to."
"Anytime."
He watched her walk out of the building and on the road till he couldn't see her anymore, that now-familiar gesture that he couldn't seem to stop himself from doing. Making sure she was safe, even though it was broad daylight and her building had security.
As he walked back home, his grandmother's words echoed in his head: "Don't let this one get away."
He wasn't planning to.
2:00 PM - The Boutique
Samaira's POV:
The boutique in Banjara Hills was everything Samaira expected—upscale, beautifully designed, and slightly intimidating with its floor-to-ceiling mirrors and elegantly dressed staff.
She'd arrived right at 2 PM to find Anvitha already inside, surrounded by at least fifteen different outfits spread across multiple mannequins and racks.
"Finally!" Anvitha called out when she spotted Samaira. "I've been here for thirty minutes, and I've already narrowed it down to these six options. I need your opinion."
"Six options for what? The wedding outfit?"
"No, that's already decided. These are for the sangeet."
Samaira looked at the six elaborate lehengas, each more stunning than the last. "Okay. What's the problem?"
"I can't decide between traditional heavy embroidery or modern minimalist designs. And I can't figure out which colours complement the jewellery we bought yesterday."
"Show me the jewellery pictures again."
As Anvitha pulled out her phone, Meher walked in, followed closely by Ahaan and Veer.
"Where's Rishaan?" Veer asked, looking around.
"He texted—stuck in traffic. Should be here in ten minutes," Ahaan said, settling onto one of the plush sofas the boutique provided for suffering companions.
"Good. Samaira, look at this" Anvitha held up her phone. "This is the necklace set. Now look at this lehenga. Does it work?"
Samaira studied both images with the same analytical attention she brought to aerodynamic diagrams. "The necklace has gold with emerald accents. That lehenga is emerald green—the colours will match, which is not the current trend. You want either gold tones to complement, or deep red to match the emeralds."
"See?" Anvitha turned to Meher triumphantly. "This is why we need Sam. She has the engineer brain."
"I have an eye for colour too," Meher protested.
"You told me the emerald one was perfect!"
"It is perfect! Just... not with that jewellery."
While they debated, Samaira wandered toward the other sections of the boutique, drawn by a display of sarees near the back. The boutique specialised in designer wear, and these weren't ordinary sarees; they were art pieces, each one carefully crafted with intricate work that spoke to hundreds of hours of skilled labour.
One in particular caught her eye: a deep wine-colored silk saree with delicate gold zari work that wasn't overwhelming but elegant, scattered like stars across the fabric. The border was more heavily embroidered, traditional, but with a modern sensibility in the design patterns.
"That would look stunning on you."
Samaira turned to find one of the boutique employees, a young woman with a professional smile, standing beside her.
"Oh, I'm not shopping for myself. I'm here with my friend"
"You should at least try it on. That colour would be perfect with your skin tone, and the blouse design we have for this piece is exquisite." The employee was already pulling the saree from the display. "Just try it. No obligation to buy."
"I really shouldn't"
"Samaira Reddy trying on clothes voluntarily?" Anvitha's voice came from behind her. "I need to see this. Go. Try it on. That saree is gorgeous."
"I don't need a new saree"
"You're in the wedding party. You absolutely need new sarees. Plural. Go try it on before I drag you into that fitting room myself."
Defeated by Anvitha's determination, Samaira took the saree and followed the employee to one of the large fitting rooms at the back of the boutique.
The fitting room was more like a small suite—a full-length three-way mirror, elegant lighting, and enough space to actually move around while draping a saree.
"Would you like help with the draping?" the employee asked.
"No, thank you. I can manage."
Samaira had worn sarees her entire life—for festivals, family functions, and formal events. She could drape one in her sleep. But this particular saree, with its heavy silk and intricate work, required more attention than her usual casual draping.
She took her time, making sure each pleat was precise, the pallu fell correctly, and the whole ensemble looked elegant rather than rushed. The matching blouse was a deep wine colour with gold embroidery at the sleeves and neckline, traditional but fitted in a modern cut.
When she finally looked at herself in the mirror, she had to admit, the boutique employee had been right. The colour was stunning against her skin, the gold work caught the light beautifully, and the way the saree draped made her look elegant and sophisticated.
She looked like someone who belonged at a wedding, someone celebratory and joyful, rather than the workaholic engineer who lived in Western business attire.
Taking a breath, Samaira stepped out of the fitting room.
The main boutique area had gotten more crowded—Rishaan had arrived and was standing with Ahaan and Veer near one of the displays, the three men looking slightly out of place among the feminine elegance of the boutique.
Samaira walked toward the group, intending to show Anvitha the saree and get her opinion.
She didn't make it three steps.
Rishaan turned, probably responding to something Ahaan said, and his eyes landed on her.
He froze.
Completely, utterly froze.
His expression shifted from casual amusement to something Samaira couldn't quite name—intensity, appreciation, something almost hungry that made her breath catch.
He wasn't just looking at her. He was staring, his eyes tracking from the way the saree draped across her shoulder to the gold work at her waist to her face, and the heat in his gaze was unmistakable.
"Sam!" Anvitha's voice broke the moment. "Oh my God, that saree is perfect! Turn around, let me see the back."
Samaira turned obediently, very aware that Rishaan's eyes never left her.
"You have to get this," Meher said, coming over to examine the fabric. "This is stunning. The colour, the work, everything."
"It's beautiful," Samaira admitted. "But I'm not sure when I'd wear it"
"Are you kidding? The sangeet, the wedding, the reception—you could wear this to any of those events," Anvitha insisted. "Plus, you'll be back in India for visits. You need more sarees in your wardrobe."
While Anvitha and Meher debated the saree's versatility, Samaira glanced toward Rishaan.
He was still staring, seemingly unaware that Ahaan was talking to him. His jaw was tight, his hands shoved in his pockets like he was physically restraining himself from doing something.
Their eyes met across the boutique, and the intensity in his gaze made Samaira's stomach flip.
Then the boutique employee from earlier approached her with a smile. "It fits perfectly! You look absolutely stunning. Would you like to try any other pieces? We have several other sarees in similar styles that might interest you."
"Oh, I don't think"
"Just a few more? I'll pull some options based on your colouring and style preferences." The woman was already moving toward another display, her hand lightly touching Samaira's elbow to guide her. "We have this beautiful midnight blue piece that just came in"
"I can decide for myself what I want to try," Samaira said politely but firmly, stepping away from the woman's touch. She appreciated the help but didn't like being herded around.
"Of course! I just thought"
"She said she can decide for herself."
Samaira turned to find Rishaan standing directly behind her, his voice polite but with an edge that definitely hadn't been there before.
The employee's eyes widened slightly. "Yes, of course. I'll just... I'll be at the counter if you need anything."
She hurried away, and Samaira raised an eyebrow at Rishaan. "That was a bit intense. She was just trying to help."
"She was being pushy. You said you could decide for yourself, and she ignored you." His eyes were still doing that intense thing, scanning her face like he was memorising every detail. "Besides, you don't need any other sarees. This one is perfect."
"How would you know? You're not exactly a fashion expert."
"I know because I can't stop looking at you in it."
The words hung in the air between them, honest and unfiltered, and Samaira felt her cheeks warm.
"Rishaan—"
"Hey, you two!" Anvitha called out. "Stop flirting in the corner and come give opinions. I need to decide between these two lehengas."
"We're not flirting," Samaira called back automatically, but Rishaan just smiled, that mischievous glint back in his eyes.
"Aren't we?" he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.
Before Samaira could respond, he walked toward the group, leaving her standing there in her wine-colored saree, heart racing.
The next two hours passed in a blur of outfits, opinions, and Anvitha's continued indecision. Samaira eventually changed back into her regular clothes—a simple kurta and jeans, but she caught Rishaan glancing at her several times, that same intense look flickering across his face before he'd look away.
They'd finally narrowed Anvitha's sangeet outfit down to two options when someone entered the boutique behind them.
"Rishaan? Oh my God, Rishaan!"
Samaira turned to see a tall woman in an expensive-looking designer dress, perfectly styled hair, and immaculate makeup walking toward them with a bright smile.
A bright smile directed entirely at Rishaan.
"Priya," Rishaan said, and something in his tone, surprise mixed with what might have been recognition, made Samaira pay closer attention.
"I can't believe I'm running into you here!" The woman Priya walked right up to Rishaan, standing closer than was strictly necessary for casual acquaintances. "I haven't seen you in, what, three months? Four?"
"Something like that."
"You look good. Really good." Priya's eyes scanned him appreciatively, and Samaira felt something sharp and unpleasant twist in her chest. "Still doing the startup thing?"
"Still doing the startup thing," Rishaan confirmed, his posture tense in a way Samaira hadn't seen before.
"That's sweet. I'm sure it'll work out eventually." Priya's tone suggested she thought no such thing. "I'm actually here shopping for a charity gala, the one at the Taj next month? I'm on the planning committee this year."
"Congratulations."
"You should come! I can get you an invitation. It would be fun to catch up properly, maybe over dinner afterwards?" She touched his arm, her hand lingering. "We had such good times together."
Rishaan stepped back slightly, dislodging her hand. "I'm pretty busy these days."
"Too busy for old friends?" Priya's laugh was musical but somehow grated on Samaira's nerves. "Come on, Rishaan. Don't be like that. I know things ended awkwardly between us, but we're adults. We can be friendly."
"Ended awkwardly is one way to put it," Rishaan said dryly.
Samaira saw Ahaan and Veer exchange glances, and Meher moved slightly closer to her, a supportive presence.
"I apologised for that," Priya said, her voice dropping to something more intimate. "I was going through things, and I handled it badly. But I've changed. I'm in a better place now. We could try again"
"No."
The word was flat, final, and left no room for interpretation.
Priya blinked, clearly not expecting such a direct rejection. "Rishaan"
"We're not trying again. We're not having dinner. We're not catching up. What we had is over, and I'm not interested in revisiting it."
"Wow." Priya's expression shifted from flirtatious to annoyed. "You've gotten harsh. When did that happen?"
"Around the time I realised I deserved better than someone who only wanted me when it was convenient for them."
The silence that followed was heavy and uncomfortable.
Priya's eyes swept across the group, landing on each person before settling on Samaira with a sharp, assessing look. "I see. Found someone new, have you? Is that why you're being so cold?"
"Who I spend time with now is none of your concern," Rishaan said evenly.
"Right. Of course." Priya's smile was tight and fake. "Well, I hope she's worth it. I hope she doesn't realise what everyone else eventually does, that you're too busy building your little startup to actually show up for anyone."
"That's enough," Ahaan said firmly, stepping forward. "Priya, you should go."
"I'm just being honest"
"You're being rude," Meher cut in, her PR manager voice coming out, professional but leaving no room for argument. "And you're making everyone uncomfortable. Please leave."
Priya looked like she wanted to argue, but something in the group's unified stance made her reconsider. She tossed her hair back, straightened her designer dress, and gave Rishaan one last look.
"Your loss," she said, then turned on her heel and walked out of the boutique.
The moment the door closed behind her, everyone seemed to exhale simultaneously.
"Well," Veer said into the silence. "That was... something."
"I'm sorry," Rishaan said, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't expect to run into her here."
"Don't apologise," Anvitha said firmly. "She was awful. What a horrible person."
"Is she always like that?" Meher asked.
"Pretty much, yeah. I just... didn't see it when we were together." Rishaan looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation.
Samaira had been quiet through the entire exchange, processing. That was one of Rishaan's ex-girlfriends. The kind of person he'd dated, the kind of relationship he'd had. Beautiful, polished, and completely self-centred, treating his dreams like they were hobbies rather than serious ambitions.
And the way Priya had looked at Samaira at the end, assessing, dismissive, like she was competition that didn't measure up.
Something possessive and fierce had risen in Samaira during that conversation, a feeling she hadn't experienced in years. The urge to step forward, to make it clear that Rishaan wasn't available, that he was...
What? Hers?
They'd known each other for four days. She had no claim on him. No right to feel possessive.
But she did anyway.
"I need air," Rishaan said abruptly. "I'll be outside."
He left before anyone could respond, the boutique door closing behind him with a soft chime.
Samaira counted to ten, then followed him.
Rishaan's POV:
Rishaan stood on the sidewalk outside the boutique, breathing deeply and trying to get his temper under control.
Running into Priya had been unexpected and unwelcome. She'd been one of his longer relationships, eight months, and one of the more painful endings. She'd been charming and fun at first, but slowly, he'd realised that she only wanted him around when it suited her schedule, her social plans, her needs. The startup had been a "cute hobby" to her, something he'd eventually give up to focus on "real work", meaning his family's business, meaning the version of him that had money and status without the risk and uncertainty of building something new.
When he'd finally asked her if she could see a future with him—marriage, partnership, building a life together—she'd laughed and said, "Let's just see where this goes" for the third time in as many months.
So he'd ended it.
And she'd been shocked, genuinely surprised that he'd wanted more than casual companionship.
Now here she was, months later, acting like they could just pick up where they left off, like nothing had happened.
The boutique door opened behind him, and he didn't need to turn around to know it was Samaira. He'd started to recognise the sound of her footsteps, the subtle shift in the air when she was near.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"Yeah. Sorry. I just needed a minute."
"Don't apologise. She was awful."
Rishaan turned to face her. Samaira was standing a few feet away, hands in her jeans pockets, looking at him with concern but not pity. He appreciated that, the concern without pity.
"She wasn't always awful," he said. "Or maybe she was, and I just didn't want to see it. I have a bad habit of not seeing red flags until they're waving directly in my face."
"That makes you optimistic, not stupid."
"Feels stupid."
"It's not." Samaira moved closer. "You wanted something real. Something lasting. That's not stupid; that's human."
Rishaan laughed bitterly. "Yeah, well, apparently wanting something real makes you 'too serious' or 'too intense' or 'moving too fast.' I've heard all the variations."
"How many relationships have ended like that?"
"Most of them." He leaned against the boutique's window. "I'm apparently terrible at casual. When I care about someone, I want the whole thing—commitment, partnership, building something together. But most people my age want to keep things casual, keep their options open, see where things go without making promises."
"And when you asked for more, they left."
"Every time." The admission hurt, even now. "I started to think maybe I was the problem. Maybe I was asking for too much, too soon. Maybe I needed to learn to be more casual, more relaxed about relationships."
"Did that work?"
"No. I just ended up in relationships that made me miserable because I was pretending to be someone I'm not." He looked at her. "What about you? Anvitha mentioned you had one serious relationship. What happened?"
Samaira was quiet for a moment, and Rishaan worried he'd pushed too hard, asked too much.
Then she spoke, her voice soft but steady. "His name was Karthik. We met during my master's program in Germany—he was doing his MBA while I was doing my engineering degree. We dated for three years. It was... it was good. He was kind, ambitious, and intelligent. We had similar goals. We wanted the same things."
"So what happened?"
"His family happened." Samaira's smile was sad. "Traditional Telugu family, very concerned with status and propriety. I was from a middle-class background—my parents worked corporate jobs, nothing glamorous. Karthik's family owned textile mills, old money, old connections. They thought I wasn't good enough. Not the right background, not the right connections, not from the right kind of family."
"That's—"
"It's their prerogative," Samaira interrupted. "They wanted what they thought was best for their son. I can't fault them for that, even if I disagree with their reasoning."
"But Karthik—"
"Karthik chose his family." Her voice was matter-of-fact, but Rishaan heard the old hurt underneath. "He came to me after his family made their position clear and said he couldn't go against them. He loved me, but he loved his family more. Or maybe he loved his family's approval more; I'm still not sure which."
"Samaira—"
"We ended it amicably. No drama, no fights. Just... acceptance that we wanted different things in the end. He wanted a partner his family approved of. I wanted a partner who chose me over their family's prejudices." She looked at Rishaan. "That's why I'm so careful now. Why I don't let people in easily? Because I learned that love isn't always enough. Sometimes practicalities and family expectations and social pressures matter more."
"That's heartbreaking."
"It's realistic."
"It doesn't have to be." Rishaan pushed off from the window, moving closer to her. "You deserved someone who chose you. Who fought for you. Who looked at his family and said, 'This woman is worth standing up to you.'"
"Maybe. But that's not what happened."
"I'm sorry that it didn't."
They stood in silence for a moment, both processing their respective relationship failures.
"You know what the worst part is?" Rishaan said eventually. "After enough relationships end the same way, you start to believe the narrative. That you're too much, too intense, too serious. That something's fundamentally wrong with you for wanting commitment when everyone else is fine with casual."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting commitment."
"Tell that to my exes."
"Your exes were wrong." Samaira's voice was firm. "They were wrong, and they didn't deserve you. Someone who wants a lifelong partnership isn't asking for too much—they're asking for what relationships are supposed to be. And anyone who thinks that's 'too intense' isn't mature enough for an adult relationship."
Rishaan felt something tight in his chest loosen. "You really believe that?"
"I do. Just like I believe that wanting a partner who chooses you over social pressures isn't unreasonable; it's basic respect." She moved closer, looking up at him. "We're not broken, Rishaan. We just haven't found the right people yet."
"Maybe," he said softly, holding her gaze. "Or maybe we just found them at the wrong time."
Something flickered in Samaira's eyes—recognition, understanding, possibility.
"We should probably go back inside," she said, but she didn't move.
"Probably."
Neither of them moved.
The boutique door opened, and Anvitha stuck her head out. "Are you two done having your emotional moment? Because I've narrowed it down to one lehenga, and I need final approval before I lose my nerve."
The spell broke, and they both laughed.
"Coming," Samaira called.
As they walked back inside, Rishaan's hand brushed against Samaira's, and without thinking, his fingers caught hers for just a moment—a brief squeeze, a connection, a silent acknowledgement of what they'd just shared.
She squeezed back before letting go.
And somehow, that small gesture meant more than any of the grand romantic declarations his exes had made.
7:30 PM - Dinner
After another hour of outfit shopping, Anvitha finally settled on a stunning royal blue lehenga with silver embroidery, Meher found three sarees she absolutely needed, and the men looking progressively more exhausted, the group finally called it a day.
"I'm starving," Veer announced as they exited the boutique. "Can we please eat actual food now?"
"There's that new fusion restaurant near Jubilee Hills," Meher suggested. "Supposed to be really good."
"Perfect. Everyone on board?"
There was a chorus of agreement, and they headed to their respective cars.
But as Samaira moved toward Meher's car, Rishaan caught her elbow gently.
"Ride with me?" he asked quietly. "I feel like we didn't finish our conversation."
Samaira hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
She told Meher she'd ride with Rishaan, earning a knowing look from her friend, and slid into the passenger seat of the Ferrari.
"You know they're all going to talk about us now," Samaira said as Rishaan pulled out of the parking lot.
"Let them. They've been talking about us since the engagement party anyway."
"Fair point."
They drove in silence for a few minutes, Rishaan navigating through the evening traffic with practised ease.
"I meant what I said earlier," he said eventually. "About you deserving someone who chooses you."
"And I meant what I said about you not being too intense." Samaira looked at him. "For what it's worth, I think the women you dated were idiots. You're loyal, ambitious, caring, and you know what you want. Those are good qualities, not flaws."
"You're making me sound like a golden retriever."
She laughed. "Maybe a little. But there are worse things to be than loyal and enthusiastic."
"I suppose." He glanced at her. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"After Karthik, did you date anyone else? Or did you just... close that part of yourself off?"
Samaira was quiet, considering. "Nothing serious. I told myself I was focused on my career, which was true. But also, I think I was protecting myself. If you don't let anyone in, they can't hurt you when they choose something else over you."
"That sounds lonely."
"It was. It is." She looked out the window. "But I got used to it. The apartment in Maranello, the late nights at the factory, the race weekends where I was surrounded by people but never really connected with any of them. It became normal."
"Do you want it to stay normal?"
"No," she said quietly. "Being here, seeing Anvitha and Ahaan so happy together, spending time with you and the others... it reminded me what I'm missing. What I gave up for career success."
"You didn't give it up. You just haven't found it yet."
"Maybe." She turned to look at him. "What about you? Are you going to keep looking for that lifetime commitment you want? Or are you going to eventually give up and settle for casual?"
"I don't think I can settle," Rishaan admitted. "It's not in my nature. I'd rather be alone than be with someone who doesn't want the same things I do. But I'm also tired, you know? Tired of putting myself out there just to hear the same rejections over and over."
"So what are you going to do?"
He pulled into the restaurant parking lot and put the car in park before answering. "I'm going to focus on the things I can control, the business, the startup, my friendships. And if the right person comes along, someone who wants the same things I do, someone who's willing to build something real together..." He looked at her, his eyes intense and honest. "Then maybe I'll try one more time."
Samaira's breath caught. There was something in the way he was looking at her, something that suggested he wasn't speaking hypothetically.
"And if it doesn't work out again?" she asked softly.
"Then at least I'll know I tried with someone worth trying for."
The air in the car felt charged, heavy with words they weren't quite ready to say.
"We should go in," Samaira said eventually. "The others are probably already inside."
"Yeah. We should."
But neither of them moved for another moment, both sitting in the quiet intimacy of the car, processing what they'd admitted to each other about their pasts, their fears, their hopes.
Then Rishaan's phone buzzed, a text from Ahaan asking where they were, and the spell broke.
They got out and walked into the restaurant together, not touching but close enough that their arms brushed occasionally.
And somehow, despite all their broken pieces and guarded hearts, despite knowing each other for only four days, it felt like the beginning of something neither of them had been brave enough to hope for.
Something real.
Something worth trying for.
Something that might actually last.
Inside the restaurant, their friends were already seated at a large table, and as Samaira and Rishaan joined them, sliding into seats next to each other like it was the most natural thing in the world, Anvitha caught Meher's eye and smiled.
"See?" Anvitha whispered. "I told you."
"You were right," Meher whispered back. "They're definitely falling."
"The question is," Anvitha said, watching as Rishaan instinctively pulled out Samaira's chair before sitting down himself, "will they figure it out before she has to go back to Italy?"
"Ten days more," Meher said quietly. "They have ten days to figure out if this is something worth long-distance or if it's just a beautiful holiday moment."
"My money's on worth it," Veer interjected, having overheard. "I've never seen Rishaan look at someone the way he looks at her."
"And I've never seen Sam let someone in this fast," Anvitha added. "She usually takes months to warm up to new people."
"So we're all in agreement," Ahaan said, joining the whispered conversation. "Those two are falling for each other."
"Absolutely."
"Without question."
"Completely obvious."
"Should we tell them?" Meher asked.
"Absolutely not," Anvitha said firmly. "They need to figure it out themselves. Our job is just to make sure they spend enough time together to realise it."
"So more group activities," Veer said.
"Exactly. Tomorrow, we can—"
"Are you all seriously talking about us right now?" Samaira's voice cut through their whispered planning. "We can hear you, you know."
The four friends looked appropriately guilty.
"We're not talking about you," Anvitha said unconvincingly.
"You literally just said 'those two,' " Rishaan pointed out.
"We could have been talking about anyone."
"While staring directly at us?"
"Coincidence."
"You're all terrible liars," Samaira said, but she was smiling.
"Fine," Meher admitted. "We were talking about you. Because you're adorable together, and we're allowed to be invested in our friends' happiness."
"We're just friends," Samaira said automatically.
"Sure you are," Anvitha said, her tone suggesting she believed no such thing.
"We are," Samaira insisted.
"Friends who stare at each other constantly."
"Friends who drove separately to have 'private conversations,'" Veer added.
"Friends who have inside jokes after four days," Ahaan contributed.
"Friends who work out together every morning," Meher finished.
Rishaan and Samaira looked at each other, then back at their friends.
"Okay, so we're friends who like spending time together," Rishaan said. "Is that a crime?"
"Not a crime," Anvitha said. "Just adorable. And obvious. And we're very supportive."
"Supportive of what, exactly?" Samaira asked.
"Whatever this is." Anvitha gestured vaguely between them. "Friendship, relationship, complicated situationship—we support all of it."
Before either of them could respond, the waiter arrived to take their orders, and the conversation shifted to food, thank God.
But as they ordered and ate and talked, as the evening stretched into night and the laughter came easily and the conversation flowed, Samaira found herself thinking about what Anvitha had said.
Whatever this is.
What was this?
She glanced at Rishaan, who was arguing with Veer about something related to cricket, his hands gesturing animatedly, his whole face lit up with enthusiasm.
Four days ago, he'd been a stranger. A name mentioned occasionally in Anvitha's gossip sessions, a person she knew facts about but didn't actually know.
Now he was someone who made her breakfast, who listened when she talked about aerodynamics, who looked at her like she was the most fascinating person in the world, who shared his vulnerabilities and insecurities without shame.
Now he was someone she thought about when he wasn't around, someone whose calls she looked forward to, someone who made her smile for no reason at all.
And in ten days, she'd be getting on a plane back to Italy, back to her apartment in Maranello, back to her life of late nights and lonely dinners and professional success that suddenly felt hollow.
Don't think about that now, she told herself. You have ten days. Enjoy them.
But even as she joined the conversation, even as she laughed at Ahaan's terrible joke and stole a bite of Rishaan's dessert and felt like she belonged here with these people, a small part of her was already mourning what she'd have to leave behind.
And she'd only just found it.
By the time they left the restaurant, it was nearly 10 PM. They said their goodbyes in the parking lot, Anvitha extracting promises from everyone to be available for village trips and temple visits in the coming days.
Once again, Samaira found herself in Rishaan's car as he insisted on driving her home.
"You don't have to keep doing this," she said as they pulled onto the main road.
"Doing what?"
"Making sure I get home safely. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"I know you are. But I want to make sure you get home safely anyway. Those two things can both be true."
"You're very stubborn."
"Says the woman who spent three hours creating a detailed wedding timeline."
"That's not stubborn; that's thorough."
"Same thing."
They bantered lightly as he drove, and too soon, they were pulling up to her building.
"Thank you for today," Samaira said. "For the gym, for the conversation outside the boutique, for... for understanding."
"Thank you for listening. And for telling me about Karthik. I know that wasn't easy."
"It wasn't. But I wanted you to understand why I'm careful. Why I don't let people in easily?"
"I get it. And I respect it." He paused. "But Samaira, I want you to know—I'm not Karthik. I'm not going to choose anything over someone I care about. And I'm not going to run away when things get serious."
"I know you're not him. You're nothing like him."
"Good."
They sat in the quiet car, both aware that they were saying things that went beyond casual friendship, both afraid to push further and risk breaking whatever this fragile thing was between them.
"Tomorrow morning?" Rishaan asked finally. "Gym?"
"You're going to turn me into a morning person against my will, aren't you?"
"Is it working?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
He grinned. "See you at 7?"
"See you at 7."
Samaira got out, grabbed her shopping bags from the back seat—including the wine-colored saree she'd ended up buying—and walked toward her building.
Halfway there, she turned back.
Rishaan was still watching, waiting to make sure she got inside safely.
She waved.
He waved back.
And Samaira walked inside with a smile on her face and a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the Hyderabad heat and everything to do with a golden retriever energy man who looked at her like she hung the stars and made her believe that maybe, just maybe, being careful wasn't the same as being closed off.
Maybe she could let someone in.
Maybe she already was.
word count: 6958
Follow on Instagram for updates, spoilers and relatable content.....
Write a comment ...