Sameera's POV:
The interview room felt blank.
Not quiet—blank.
White walls. A long table. Three unfamiliar faces scanning my résumé while someone asked me my name.
I answered, but my mind wasn't here.
It was back home.
My mother's composed voice—a good family, a well-settled boy.
My father's unreadable expression.
The weight of a future undecided.
What if I don't crack this interview?
What if this is my only chance?
My chest tightened.
Bangalore. A job. Independence.
Or marriage. Final. Unavoidable.
And Saharsh.
His smile. The way his thumb brushed over my knuckles when he thought I was nervous. The way he looked at me like I was something precious, not replaceable.
What if I lose him because I fail today?
"Sameera?"
I blinked.
Someone had asked me a question.
My palms were sweaty. My throat dry.
For a second, I felt like standing up and walking out.
Then his voice echoed in my head, soft and confident.
You can do it. I trust you.
I took a deep breath.
Straightened my shoulders.
And answered.
One question turned into another.
Technical rounds. Projects. Situations. I fumbled once, corrected myself twice. Slowly, the chaos in my head quieted.
For those forty minutes, I wasn't a daughter under pressure.
I wasn't someone's potential bride.
I was just… me.
When it ended, I walked out feeling empty—but lighter.
My phone buzzed instantly.
Saharsh calling.
I stared at the screen.
And didn't answer.
Another call. A message.
How did it go?
I know you did great.
I turned my phone face down.
A few minutes later, Rishi pulled up.
"Interview done?"
I nodded and got in, silent.
We went to a café nearby—our usual one. I ordered coffee but barely touched it.
Rishi watched me for a while before speaking.
"You're ignoring Saharsh."
My fingers tightened around the cup.
"Why?" she asked gently.
The words rushed out before I could stop them.
"What if I don't get selected?" I whispered.
"What if my parents make me get married?"
"What if I lose him, Rishi?"
My breathing sped up. My chest felt heavy.
"I can't imagine a life where he's not there," I said, my voice shaking. "And I hate that I'm this scared."
Rishi moved closer and held my hands firmly.
"Hey. Look at me. Breathe."
I tried. Failed. Tried again.
"You showed up today," she said calmly.
"That matters."
"But—"
"No," she interrupted softly. "You're not alone. You have me. And you have him. And you are stronger than you think."
Tears slid down my cheeks.
"I don't want to lose everything," I whispered.
She pulled me into a hug.
"You won't. And even if things get difficult… you won't face them alone."
I closed my eyes, holding on.
I didn't know what the future looked like.
But in that moment, with Rishi beside me, I knew one thing—
I was grateful I wasn't alone.
---
By the time I reached my apartment in Malad, my head was throbbing.
The lift ride up felt longer than usual, my thoughts loud and relentless. I barely managed to unlock the door and step inside when the bell rang—sharp, impatient.
I knew it was him.
I hadn't even dropped my bag when the door swung open.
"You're avoiding me."
I turned, heart skipping. Saharsh stood there, breathing a little harder than usual, eyes fixed on me.
"I'm not," I said, though it sounded weak even to me.
"You didn't pick my calls. You barely replied. You suddenly disappeared?" His voice wasn't angry—just tight.
I slipped my sandals off, buying time. "I was busy. Rishi's here."
"Oh?" he said lightly. Too lightly. "Like I was 'busy' with Gauri?"
I looked up at him then, irritation flashing. "Your new best friend, right?"
His lips curved. "You're jealous."
"I'm not," I snapped. "Why would I be? You seemed pretty comfortable with her."
The smile faded.
"This isn't about Gauri," he said, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I replied instantly. "I'm fine."
He studied me for a second, then shook his head. "You're lying."
I turned away, dropping my bag on the couch. "Can we not do this right now?
I've had a long day. The interview—"
"You're shaking," he interrupted, gently.
I froze.
I hadn't noticed until then—but my hands were trembling.
"I'm just tired," I said quickly. "That's all."
The words kept spilling out after that—half-explanations, excuses, defensiveness—anything to keep him from digging deeper. I was talking too much, too fast, trying to convince both of us that I was okay.
Then suddenly, he was in front of me.
His hands cupped my face, warm and steady, and before I could react, he kissed me.
Once.
I pulled back slightly. "Saharsh—"
He kissed me again. Slower. Deeper. Like he was grounding me.
"I said—"
Another kiss, softer this time, his thumb brushing my cheek as if to calm me down rather than stop me from speaking.
I sighed into him, my hands finding his jacket without thinking.
He rested his forehead against mine.
"You don't have to explain everything right now."
My breath hitched.
When I tried to speak again, he kissed me once more—unhurried, reassuring—until the noise in my head dulled.
The interview.
My parents.
That fear curling in my chest.
All of it loosened as he pulled me into his arms, my face pressed against his chest, his hand firm at my back.
I let myself breathe.
"I've got you," he murmured into my hair.
And in that moment, I believed him.
Standing there wrapped in him, I felt safe in a way I hadn't all day. Like the world could pause right here—even if only for a few seconds.
The problems were still there. Waiting.
But in his arms, they felt quieter.
---
The call came the next morning, right when I was standing in the kitchen, staring at my coffee like it had personally betrayed me.
"Why did you went back to Malad directly after the interview?"
Aai's voice was calm. Too calm. That dangerous calm.
I closed my eyes for half a second. "I had college work, Aai. Seminars, placement formalities, all that. I couldn't stay back."
There was a pause on the other end.
"You could have informed us," she said.
"It felt… sudden."
I swallowed. "I know. I just—things got hectic."
What I didn't say was that I needed space. From the questions. From the expectations. From the constant what next hanging over my head like a deadline I hadn't signed up for.
She sighed. "Fine. But don't make this a habit."
"Yes, Aai," I replied softly, even though my chest felt tight.
The call ended, and I leaned against the counter, exhaling slowly.
That's when the doorbell rang.
I frowned. I wasn't expecting anyone.
When I opened the door, my jaw practically dropped.
"Surprise!"
Rishi stood there, grinning like she'd just pulled off the biggest heist of the century. Two suitcases flanked her, one big, one suspiciously bigger
"What—Rishi—what are you doing
here?" I blinked.
She pushed past me dramatically. "I have decided to temporarily relocate my existence to Malad."
"…You're staying?" I asked, dumbly.
She turned to me, eyes already glossy. "Sameera, you know I went home, had a fight with my mother and left without warning. Now your place is my only choice till my mum's anger cools down, or till my break is over."
"That was very dramatic," I said.
"I haven't even started yet," she replied, hugging me tightly. "Also, I brought snacks."
Before I could protest further, Janhvi walked out of her room, arms crossed, taking in the scene like she was watching a live show.
"Oh my God," she said. "Is this a guest appearance or a permanent character entry?"
Rishi turned to her instantly. "You must be Janhvi. Sameera's roommate."
Janhvi grinned. "And you must be Rishi. Her best friend."
They shook hands like long-lost allies.
I cleared my throat. "Uh, Janhvi… are you okay with Rishi staying for a few days?"
Janhvi waved a hand dismissively.
"Please. I was bored anyway. This is entertainment."
Rishi gasped. "I like her already."
Within minutes, they were sitting on the couch together, whispering and giggling like they'd known each other forever.
"So," Janhvi said loudly, eyeing me, "is she always this stressed or only when secret emotional turmoils are involved?"
"Janhvi!" I protested, heat rushing to my face.
Rishi smirked. "Oh, she's worse when she's in love."
I froze. "Rishi!"
Janhvi's eyebrows shot up. "Oh believe me I know it very well. In love, huh?"
I looked between the two of them, absolutely betrayed. "You both need to stop bonding at my expense."
They exchanged a look.
Then, in perfect sync, they said, "No."
I dropped onto the couch, burying my face in my hands.
Great.
I waited until Janhvi and Rishi were fully distracted—Janhvi mid-rant about some influencer, Rishi dramatically judging her outfit choices—before I quietly slipped my phone from the table.
Come over. Movie night.
Saharsh's message blinked on my screen.
My lips curved into a smile before I could stop it.
I mumbled something about needing water, grabbed my hoodie, and tiptoed out like I was committing a crime. The door shut softly behind me, my heart already racing—not from fear of getting caught, but from the anticipation curling low in my chest.
The moment I stepped inside his place, warmth wrapped around me.
The lights were dimmed. A movie was paused on the screen. There were cushions thrown carelessly on the floor, popcorn on the table, and that familiar smell—him.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning me slowly.
"So," he said, voice deceptively calm, "do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"
I smiled sheepishly. "You know I was busy."
He raised an eyebrow. "Busy avoiding me."
Before I could defend myself, he reached out, pulling me in by the wrist—not rough, not rushed. Just firm enough to make my pulse jump.
"You owe me," he murmured. "And I'm not letting you off easy today."
The movie started, but I barely registered it. I was curled beside him, my head resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me like it belonged there—like I belonged there.
And just like that, the noise in my head softened.
With him, it always did.
For a while, it was just us. Soft laughter. Shared glances. Fingers brushing accidentally—then not so accidentally.
Somewhere in the middle of the movie, a song started playing.
Before I could react, he stood up and tugged my hand. "Dance with me."
"What? Saharsh, are you crazy—"
Too late.
He pulled me up, spinning me around the room as the song played. We danced terribly—bumping into furniture, laughing too hard, throwing cushions at each other. A pillow hit my face, and I shrieked, chasing him toward the bedroom.
"Get back here!" I laughed.
He ran, I followed—and when I finally caught him, we tumbled onto the bed together, breathless, laughing, tangled.
The laughter faded.
He was suddenly above me, his weight balanced carefully on his arms. One hand came up, gently brushing my hair away from my face. His eyes softened in a way that made my chest ache.
I stopped breathing.
He leaned down slowly, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Then my eyes—his lips lingering there, soft and unhurried, like he was memorising the way my lashes fluttered shut beneath his touch.
My nose—an almost playful brush that made me smile before I could stop myself.
My cheeks—warm, lingering kisses that made my skin tingle long after his lips moved away.
And my jaw—where he slowed down deliberately, tracing the line with his mouth as if he knew exactly how sensitive I was there.
Each kiss felt intentional, unspoken words pressed into my skin. I could feel my breath hitching, my body responding before my mind could catch up. His nearness made everything else fade—the noise, the worries, the fear.
His touch sent shivers through me, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath me. I could feel my heart pounding—loud, wild, undeniable.
"You make it impossible," he whispered.
"I tried to control it… but you're too hard to resist."
His lips finally found mine.
The kiss was slow at first, unhurried, like he was savoring it—like he had missed this as much as I had. My hands moved on their own, sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.
The world blurred.
There was only him.
Only us.
Then—
Buzz.
A sharp vibration broke the moment.
Saharsh froze.
I felt it before I saw it—the shift in him, the sudden stillness. He pulled back slightly, his gaze flicking to his phone on the bedside table.
I followed his eyes.
A message glowed on the screen.
Gauri: The other night was amazing.
The air changed.
Our eyes met—his unreadable, mine suddenly filled with questions I wasn't ready to ask.
And just like that, the room that had felt so warm moments ago fell quiet—heavy with something neither of us spoke.