The warmth of the tea enveloped me as I took the sip.

I tried to adjust the paper-cup in my hand as he pushed some cumin crackers in front of me.

It felt warm.

Too warm, as his hand lightly brushed mine before the tea could have spilled off and landed on my saree.

I gripped the cup a little too tightly, until its edges curled lightly.

I tore my gaze away from him.

The sky had turned darker from the shades of the saffron.

I tried to focus on the birds trying to fly to their destination.

Yet I was able to feel his gaze on me as he gently took the sip beside me.

The smell of ginger reached me and the steam curled as the cup lightly touched my lips.

I inhaled slowly as I gulped the tea.

Yet, his eyes didn't waver from my feet.

It was constantly fixed there.

Like it was his destination.

The tea turned cold and so did the wind.

I crumpled the cup under my palm,

Letting my gaze drift to the feet, for once.

He immediately looked away, noticing my gaze on it.

He threw his own cup as he curled his hands inside the pockets of pant.

I blinked.

The drizzle caught his lashes lightly.

I waited for him to move, but he didn't.

Maybe he didn't want to.

Or maybe this all felt too right.

I, him, rain and tea.

One drop, two drop, and slowly into a soft patter not the relentless kind but a soft one that soothes the soul.

Just like his breaths as I counted them,

I was able to feel the hesitation in his gaze.

Like he had something to say.

So I asked for the first time.

I initiated the conversation.

"Kuch kehna hai aapko?"

🌷

My fingers nearly stopped drumming against the velvet box in my hand inside my pocket.

I shifted my gaze to the moon.

The street had gone quiet, away from the city.

Except for the soft rustle of trees and gentle wind along with the patter of rain that created gentle ripples on the ground.

Yet my eyes were fixed on the reflection of the moon.

It some-how reflected her.

I didn't dare to look at her again.

How could I when she stood there while the rain continued to highlight the grace she carried.

I shook my head and paid the vendor.

Just as I was about to move-my eyes shifted to her attire briefly.

I immediately withdrew my eyes and focused on the road.

But I was too lost.

The way her saree shimmered in the night.

I exhaled shakily.

She followed me slowly.

I was able to feel her perplexed face,

as she tried to match my slow pace.

I didn't know but the rain felt like peace today.

It relaxed the way my muscles had stiffened from the day.

Just as my fingers gripped the door handle of the car.

The velvet box slipped out from the pocket.

Her gaze snapped to it immediately.

The door felt cold under my palm.

Maybe it was the wind.

🌷

I picked up the box.

The velvet had gone dark with the water and dust.

It felt heavy in my hands.

I gently wiped it with the edge of the pallu.

His throat bobbed.

I squinted my eyes at it.

My feet turned cold.

Not because I had cold feet.

But the way he avoided my gaze.

"Wo,"

I waited patiently for him.

The bangles felt cold in my wrist.

The way they chimed felt too loud in the rain.

But when he didn't I held out the box.

He scratched his brows-looking at it.

"Ye shagun, wo gift hota hai na.

Jo aap ne liya wo aapka,"

He paused as though trying to find the correct words.

"Par humara bhi toh haq banta hai na."

He took the velvet box and gently traced the rim of it and slowly opened it.

"Aur sabse zyada aapka."

I didn't know but as I looked at the anklets.

Light, not the heavy one,

As if he knew it always leaves marks on my feet.

I bit my lips.

He stood there staring into the box.

But then I gently pushed my feet in front of him.

The anklets chimed almost lost in the sound of the downpour.

He looked uncertain.

I was about to remove the heavy weight of the silver that adorned my feet.

Too replace it with a light one.

But before I could he interrupted.

"Let me"

I froze mid-motion just for a second.

But then a slow smile graced my lips.

He tried to smile back-but even the water couldn't hide his nervousness.

Slowly he leaned down.

Until his knees touched the ground.

My first instinct was to shift.

I had never seen something like this.

Doing this for someone.

When his fingers were about to touch my feet.

He paused, staring at his hand.

Lined by bruises-faint, old-from training and fields.

My breath hitched.

He looked at me again.

I looked at him through the shield of the downpour.

He wasn't clearly visible in front of eyes.

Yet I was able to feel the veneration in those eyes.

I blinked.

Then only his hands touched my feet.

I tried to look at the vendor shop.

Anything.

My hands tightened around the edge of the saree pallu until the water squeezed out of it into my hands.

The rain had turned softer.

Yet his hands lightly touched mine first.

His calloused hand lingered there.

Just for a second.

As he removed the heavy anklets.

The cold wind touched my feet, until the goosebumps erupted on it.

He smiled this time-as he gently slipped the one that he had brought.

He sat there staring at the feet for a little longer.

It felt more beautiful-than before.

I never knew it could look this beautiful.

With that he got up.

Not before touching the heavy ones-to his forehead.

I never knew that.

It could have felt this way as well.

The way he opened the door.

Like nothing happened just after-

That sight, like it was nothing.

After letting my thoughts drift somewhere.

🌷

That night something quietly shifted inside me.

The girl who despised the thought of marriage,

suddenly considered it.

Or was willing to believe in it.

Not because she liked it now.

Maybe she never did.

But because of him.

Not because the restrictions were not there-

They were,

But it was the person-

That made her believe in it.

Made her believe to choose herself first-

Before anything else.

And maybe she did,

By choosing him.

She chose herself.

🌷

The pen paused mid sentence and I closed the diary.

The ink was dark as though it had been through the experience of time.

"Mumma"

I heard Ritvik's voice.

The air of Bhopal carried a hint of nostalgia.

I smiled at him,

as I witnessed the same eyes that mirrored his.

The dark brown which once held reverence now had innocence.

I carefully closed the diary and with that the smell of old pages and ink faded away like a memory.

Just as I was about to keep it in the drawer.

A sweet voice reached my ear.

"Mumma aap padhaai kal lahe the."

Aarshi rubbed her eyes as she settled on my lap.

The baby scent filled my nostrils.

Ritvik stood there clutching the chair.

I held his hand.

He looked at it curiously.

I locked the drawer.

But just then my eyes flicked to the broken bangles.

And the smile dimmed but I restored it again.

As I stood up, moving towards the backyard.

For some fresh air.

"Aap toh karti nahi ho, toh mumma hi kar rahi hai padaahi."

Ritvik followed me by clutching the pallu.

My eyes softened just slightly.

Just like him.

Aarshi hid her face in my neck, still sleepy.

I picked up Ritvik in my other arm.

The warmth enveloped me.

And it felt like him-even for a moment.

To be continued.

Unedited.