Rangeer POV
Festivals at the Sign house were always grand.
Lights wrapped around the balconies, marigold garlands hung from every pillar, and music flowed through the open courtyard. It wasn't a wedding celebration—just one of those evenings when the family gathered to celebrate tradition.
Yet tonight felt different.
I noticed it when I stepped outside.
Najma bhabhi stood beside Ranveer, dressed in a deep emerald sari, elegant and calm. Ranveer stayed close to her, protective without being possessive. The way he watched her made it clear—this was his world now.
As it should be.
Then my eyes moved elsewhere.
Twinkle.
She wore a bright pink sari, lively and bold, laughing as she teased Paki about dance steps. The fabric shimmered as she moved, and for a moment, I forgot the music, the lights, the noise.
Since when did she look like that?
"Stop staring," Paki muttered.
"I'm not," I replied automatically.
She smirked. "You are."
Someone turned the music louder.
Claps echoed as a small circle formed in the courtyard.
"Dance!" Paki demanded, pulling at my sleeve.
"I don't dance at festivals," I said firmly.
Twinkle turned, hands on her hips.
"Oh please. You dance in movies but freeze at a family festival?"
"That's different."
She grinned. "Then consider this practice."
Before I could escape, she pulled me into the circle.
I nearly tripped.
She laughed openly.
The family cheered.
"Left!" she instructed.
"That is left!"
"That's your other left!"
"This is unfair," I muttered.
She leaned closer, still laughing. "You're doing great."
I wasn't.
But I was smiling.
Across the courtyard, Ranveer watched with an amused expression. Najma bhabhi stood beside him, smiling softly, her eyes following Twinkle with fond affection.
And I realized I wasn't thinking about rules, expectations, or roles.
I was just there.
Twinkle POV
I caught him staring.
Again.
Rangeer always thought no one noticed.
I noticed everything.
He looked uncomfortable, pretending to be uninterested, so naturally, I decided to ruin that.
I dragged him straight into the dance circle.
The way he panicked?
Worth it.
"You're stiff," I told him.
"I'm controlled," he shot back.
I laughed. "Sure."
He stepped on my foot.
"Watch it!"
"You're moving too fast!"
"That's called dancing!"
As the music slowed, something changed.
He stopped trying to escape.
He matched my steps.
And when I looked up—
He was smiling.
Not the actor smile.
The real one.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked quietly.
I shrugged. "Didn't know you could enjoy yourself."
He scoffed. "Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret's safe," I teased.
The lights flickered above us.
Music carried through the night.
Across the courtyard, Najma caught my eye and smiled—a gentle, knowing smile.
As if she saw something I hadn't admitted yet.
When the music ended, Rangeer exhaled dramatically.
"I survived."
"Barely," I said.
He hesitated. "Next festival… you're not allowed to drag me."
I raised an eyebrow. "That sounded like a challenge."
He shook his head, but he was smiling.
The festival continued.
Lights, laughter, color.
And somewhere between the music and teasing, I realized—
This wasn't just fun anymore.