After stepping out of the shower, Aarav quickly styled his hair and reached for the lavender sherwani gifted to him by Arundhati's parents. It fit perfectly. The color matched Arundhati's saree—almost as if they were coordinated. Standing in front of the mirror, Aarav took in his reflection. He looked… regal. Almost princely.
His features—sharp jawline, tousled black hair, and piercing blue eyes—stood out even more in the traditional attire. Objectively, he looked good. But the smile he forced onto his face didn't quite fit. It felt unnatural, like someone trying on an unfamiliar emotion.
> "Well, at least I'm handsome. Definitely an upgrade from the last body," he mused inwardly, attempting to lighten his own mood.
---
Descending the stairs, Aarav noticed Arundhati's parents immersed in their tasks. Her mother was busy in the kitchen, orchestrating a culinary storm, while her father was outside wrestling with lighting decorations.
He looked around, scanning for Arundhati.
She wasn't immediately visible.
Eventually, he spotted her across the courtyard, helping Subhadra arrange offerings for the prayers. She was smiling—genuinely. The sight of her laugh, the easy grace with which she moved alongside her mother, made something stir in his chest. A warmth. A flutter.
Her smile contrasted sharply with the one he'd just faked in front of the mirror.
> "She looks beautiful," he admitted silently, "And we actually look... good together. Did she pick these matching outfits? Did she know? How would she react when she sees me in this—ugh, Aarav, stop. You're sounding like a lovesick fool. Focus. You have bigger things to handle."
He shook the thoughts from his head.
> "Let's just check on last night's work. I need to see what happened to those bastards who insulted my wife..."
A small, dangerous smile curled on his lips—just as a voice cut through his thoughts.
> "Aarav."
His expression dropped.
> "I swear, every time I try to do something entertaining, someone has to interrupt."
He turned around—and immediately regretted it.
Standing behind him was Vijay, his father-in-law.
> "For a moment, my brain refused to function. What on earth could he possibly want from me? I knew this man was trouble—and escaping wasn't an option. If this were the old Aarav, he would've already stormed off. But no, come on, Aarav, breathe. Be civil."
He composed himself and replied politely, "Yes, Uncle? You called me?"
Vijay's expression was strained. He was clearly trying to be neutral, but the distaste in his eyes betrayed him. Aarav, refusing to bite, chose to pretend not to notice.
"Help me with these," Vijay said stiffly, gesturing to a tangled bundle of decorative lights in his hands.
Aarav sighed internally.
> "I don't know about the original Aarav, but I've never been good with this kind of thing..."
Still, refusing wasn't an option. He accepted the lights with reluctant hands.
---
He found a ladder nearby and began climbing it, struggling to untangle the stubborn wires and attach them securely. The wires slipped, the plug kept coming loose, and no matter how he twisted them, the lights just wouldn't cooperate.
From the ground, Vijay watched with something suspiciously close to smug satisfaction.
Aarav heard the barely-suppressed chuckle in the man's voice as he said, "Were you living under a rock? Even a child could do this. Earning money alone isn't enough—sometimes you need real-life skills to survive."
Aarav paused, blinking at the condescension.
> "Ah yes, the unsolicited wisdom. If it were the old Aarav, this man would be lying on the floor with a broken jaw..."
Instead, Aarav gave a calm nod. "I'll keep that in mind."
Vijay's expression soured instantly, as though expecting a different reaction. He opened his mouth, possibly to deliver another jab—but before he could speak, Arundhati's voice rang out.
"Papa, Mom's calling you," she said from a distance.
Vijay didn't even look at Aarav as he turned and walked off.
---
Aarav was still on the ladder, holding the lights awkwardly when Arundhati approached. She looked at him, arms crossed.
"You couldn't have said something... pleasant for once?" she asked, exasperated.
Aarav looked genuinely confused.
> "What did I even do?" he thought. "This father-daughter duo is playing some cosmic game with me. Can't she see me up here struggling with all these wires? Does she care? Of course not."
Out loud, he said nothing. Just sighed.
She didn't wait. "You promised me you'd behave. And yet here we are. What did you say to him this time for his mood to go from mildly hostile to nuclear?"
He blinked at her, baffled.
"That's the most ridiculous accusation I've ever heard," he muttered. "I didn't say anything. He gave me advice, and I agreed."
Arundhati raised a brow. "What kind of advice?"
Aarav pointed at the tangled mess in his hands. "He asked me to help with this. I struggled. He said, 'Earning money isn't enough; you need to be knowledgeable to survive.' So I replied, 'I'll keep that in mind.' That's it. I didn't say a single disrespectful word."
There was a beat of silence.
Arundhati blinked. Her shoulders eased slightly as the truth settled in.
"Oh…" she murmured.
Stepping closer, she reached up to help him, untangling the wires wound around his arms and shoulders. Her touch was gentle but brisk—practical, not tender.
"Leave this to the workers," she said. "It's time. Come with me."
As her fingers worked through the mess, one of them brushed against his skin. The contact was fleeting, but it sent an unexpected thrill down his spine.
Aarav leaned in, voice teasing. "Careful now, wife. If you touch me like that, I might get the wrong idea."
She didn't even blink. "Try it," she said coldly, "and I'll wrap these wires around your neck instead."
Aarav chuckled, unbothered. "Such sweet threats. You're warming up to me, aren't you?"
She gave him a blank stare and yanked the last of the wires off him with a bit more force than necessary.
"Move."
He followed, the smirk still playing on his lips. She might hate him—but oh, the tension was delicious.
And as he walked behind her, his thoughts drifted—not to survival, not to power—but to the way her fingers had brushed his.
Just once.
But enough.