The garden café emptied slowly around them. Waiters cleared tables, the afternoon sun shifted behind clouds, and still they sat—hands linked across the wrought-iron table like two people afraid the moment would vanish if they let go.
Naira stared at their intertwined fingers. His thumb moved in slow, absent circles over her knuckles. The same small habit from years ago. Some things never change.
She spoke first.
"What happens now?"
Aarav looked up. "I don't know."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only honest one I have."
She pulled her hand back gently. Not angry. Just… needing space to breathe.
"I didn't come here to be the other woman, Aarav. And I'm not going to be the reason you blow up a two-year relationship in one morning."
"You're not the reason. You're the truth I've been running from."
She shook her head. "Don't romanticize it. You chose her. You built a life. You posted pictures. You went on trips. You let me become a memory."
His jaw tightened. "I never posted because I wanted to forget you. I posted because I was trying to prove to myself that I could be happy without you."
"And were you?"
"For a while." He looked away. "Then I'd hear a song we used to like. Or see someone wearing that stupid red scrunchie you always lost. Or smell rain on Delhi roads. And it would hit me all over again."
Naira swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I tried too," she admitted quietly. "Dated. A lot. Told myself it was moving on. But every time someone kissed me, I compared. Every time someone held my hand, I remembered yours felt different. Safer. Hotter. More… mine."
He met her eyes again.
"I'm sorry I made you compare."
"Don't be sorry. Be sure."
"I am."
She stood up. "Then prove it. Tonight. No half-measures. No guilt. No 'let's see how it goes'. If we do this, we do it knowing it might destroy us both."
He stood too.
"Where?"
"My room. 1407. After dinner. When the wedding chaos dies down."
He nodded once. Sharp. Decided.
"Okay."
They parted without another word.
The rest of the day passed in fragments.
Shanaya's mehendi ceremony. Laughter. Cameras. Dancing aunties. Naira smiled when she had to, hugged people she hadn't seen in years, answered the inevitable questions—"Still single? No boyfriend?"—with practiced deflection.
All the while she felt him.
Across the lawn. Talking to Vikram's cousins. Glancing at her every few minutes like he couldn't help it.
Once their eyes met during the group photo. He gave her the smallest smile. The one that used to mean I'm thinking dirty things about you right now.
Her stomach flipped.
Evening came.
Sangeet. Loud music. Flashy lights. She wore a deep maroon lehenga that hugged her waist and flared dramatically when she moved. She caught Aarav staring from the bar. His expression was unreadable. Hungry.
She danced with Priya. Laughed too loud. Drank one too many glasses of wine.
When the function finally wound down, most guests stumbled to their rooms or the after-party lounge.
Naira slipped away first.
Heart in her throat.
She reached her room. Left the door on the latch.
Showered quickly. Changed into a simple black satin slip she'd packed on impulse. Nothing fancy. Just soft. Slippery. Honest.
She waited.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty.
She started to doubt.
Then the soft knock.
She opened the door.
Aarav stood there in a white kurta, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp like he'd showered too.
No words.
He stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind him.
They stared at each other for a long second.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Hands on her face. Mouth on hers. Backing her against the wall.
This wasn't the rooftop kiss. That had been desperate, stolen.
This was deliberate.
He kissed her like a man who'd waited seven years for permission.
She kissed him back like a woman who'd never stopped wanting.
His hands slid down her sides, bunching the satin, lifting it over her hips.
She tugged at his kurta buttons. Impatient.
Clothes came off in a hurried, messy pile.
He lifted her. Legs around his waist. Carried her to the bed.
They fell together.
Skin on skin.
Finally.
He paused above her. Breathing hard.
"Look at me," he whispered.
She did.
His eyes were dark, serious.
"I love you," he said. "I never stopped. I'm sorry it took me this long to say it again."
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
"I love you too," she breathed. "Even when I hated you."
He kissed the tears away.
Then he moved.
Slow at first.
Every thrust deliberate. Deep. Like he was trying to imprint himself back into her.
She arched. Moaned his name.
His mouth found her neck. Her breasts. Sucking. Biting gently. Worshipping.
Her nails raked down his back.
Harder.
Faster.
The bed creaked.
The headboard tapped the wall in rhythm.
She wrapped her legs tighter.
He groaned against her throat.
"God, Naira…"
She came first.
Shattering.
Clinging.
Whimpering his name like a prayer.
He followed seconds later.
Burying his face in her neck.
Shuddering.
They stayed like that.
Sweaty. Spent. Tangled.
After a long time he rolled off but pulled her with him. She curled into his chest. His heartbeat thundering under her ear.
They didn't speak for a while.
Just breathed.
Then she whispered, "This doesn't fix everything."
"I know."
"We still have to talk. About trust. About what happens tomorrow. About whether we can survive this city and our past and each other."
"I know."
"But tonight…" She lifted her head. Looked at him. "Tonight, it feels like maybe we can."
He brushed hair from her face.
"Tonight is enough."
She smiled. Small. Real.
They kissed again.
Slower.
Softer.
Like lovers who finally had time.
Later, when they were under the sheets, bodies still humming, he traced patterns on her back.
"Remember Neemrana?" he asked quietly.
She nodded against his chest.
"That weekend. When we said someday."
"Yeah."
"I want that someday now."
She lifted her head.
"Even if it's messy?"
"Especially if it's messy."
She kissed him.
Soft.
Lingering.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"Me too."
"But I'm more scared of never trying again."
He pulled her closer.
"Then we try."
They fell asleep like that.
Wrapped in each other.
For the first time in seven years.
Not promises.
Not plans.
Just two people choosing each other in the dark.
The next morning would bring questions.
Rhea's tears.
Shanaya's confusion.
Friends taking sides.
The real world waiting outside the door.
But for now—
For these few stolen hours—
Love was still the easy part.
The heartbreak?
That would come later.
And it would be complex.
Devastating.
Unavoidable.
But tonight?
Tonight they had each other.
And that was enough.
The alarm clock glowed 3:14 a.m.
Outside, Delhi slept.
Inside the room, two half-torn hearts beat in sync.
For now.