“Ishu, college nahi jana kya?”

And I wake up in worry. Alarm didn’t ring because my phone was on silent.

“Haan maa, jana hai.”
“Late ho jayega aaj to.”

I wake from the bed and rush towards the bathroom, towel in my hand. I tie my hair with a clutch. The morning feels cold, and I’m too lazy for showers in winter, but I take a warm water bath and get ready for college.

Cargo jeans and tank top.
I don’t know why I wear this, but I’m in the mood for my favourite clothes.

Suddenly, I remember the last day.

The Rathore.
The rishta.
And him.

I ignore the feelings and flashbacks and go downstairs.

“Maa, mera tiffin?”
“Ye raha. Aur sun, mujhe pata hai teri padhai der tak chalti hai, lekin thand bahut hai, to shaam ko jaldi aa jana,” maa says while making nasta.

“Thik hai.”
“Bye maa.”
“Haan, rasta dhyaan se cross karna.”
“Thik hai.”

I leave.

At the bus stand, the bus is ready. I climb in, and it starts towards the university.

After 15 minutes, I arrive.

Dhaval, Mehul, and Nia are already waiting at the gate.

“Padhariye maharani ji,” Dhaval says.
“Aapke liye aarti ki thali aa rahi hai,” Mehul acts.
“Are Ishu, tu 45 minutes late aayi, hum kab se khade hain yahan,” Nia says.

“Are main late ho gayi aaj, chalo abhi.”

We go to the library to discuss the project.

“Sun lo sab,” I say.
“Project research main karungi. Resources Mehul dhundhega. Nia templates dekhegi. Backend jaise hamesha Dhaval handle karega.”

“Ji, aur kuch?” Dhaval laughs.

“Ji nahi. Kal ghar pe guests aa gaye the, isliye research nahi ho payi, lekin aaj ho jayegi.”
“Hum university ka best project banayenge.”

“I’ve found resources already,” Dhaval says.

We work. Lunch, gossip, college faculty—same chaos.

By evening, at least 20% work is done.

“Main thak gayi hoon. Ghar jana hoga, mummy ne bola hai jaldi aana, thand bahut hai.”

“Haan Ishu, aaj kaafi kaam ho gaya, baaki kal,” Dhaval says.

We pack up.

“Bye Ishu, kal milte hain,” Nia and Mehul say, going together.

Me and Dhaval walk the same way.

“Ishu, tu theek hai na? Aaj energy low lag rahi thi,” Dhaval asks.
“Nahi, bas thodi thakan hai.”

Outside the university—

“La, tera bag main utha leta hoon.”
“Are nahi, main utha lungi—”

Then—

A voice.

“Abhi tak ghar nahi gayi aap, Ishika ji?”

I freeze.

My hand starts shaking.

I know that voice.

I turn back. Dhaval turns too.

He’s leaning against a black SUV. Black suit, white shirt. Removing his sunglasses.

“Vi—Vihaan ji…”
“Main bas ja hi rahi thi.”

“Hum aapko ghar chhod dete hain. Chaliye.”

“Are nahi, main chali jaungi, aapko—” I hesitate.

He interrupts, voice calm but final—
“Maine kaha… hum chhod denge.”

“Ishika ji.”

That tone.

Dhaval doesn’t interfere. He hands me my bag and says quietly,
“Chal Ishu, main chalta hoon. Kal milte hain.”

He leaves.

I don’t dare look into those grey eyes.

Cold wind brushes past.

“Sab aapko pyar se ‘Ishu’ bulate hain?” he asks.

After a pause, I say,
“Aisa kuch nahi hai… wo bas—”

He steps closer. Removes his coat and places it over my shoulders.

“Aapko thand lag rahi hai.”
“Thand mein aise kapde pehne nahi jaate, Ishika ji.”

“Aisa nahi hai, Vihaan ji—”

He opens the car door.

“Car mein baithiye. Bahar ka mausam insaan ko kamzor kar deta hai.”

I slide inside without saying a word.

Something feels off.

He didn’t like Dhaval.
Or maybe… he simply doesn’t like anyone near what he already considers his.

And the worst part—

I haven’t said yes yet.

But he’s acting like the rishta is already decided.

I saw her with one boy, clutching her backpack and smiling with him.
And the worst part is—she is smiling too, with that boy.

This is totally fine. He is her friend, and I’m not her fiancé yet.
Then why do I feel this much jealousy?

I close the door after she climbs in, then move to my side and drive the car.

When she saw me, she literally got scared.
During the drive towards her house, she never looked at me even once.
My phone rings with notifications—a message. Not important yet.

I look towards her. Her eyes are fixed outside, her hands clutching her bag tightly.

My phone rings again. I take the call.

Dadi sa says on the call that we have to give nyota at their place too.
I agree and cut the call.

The Rathore Haveli is decorated because we are doing Durga Puja.

“Aap theek hai na, Ishika ji?”

“J—ji,” she says hesitantly.

“Mera ghar us raste se hai,” she says, still avoiding eye contact.

“Hame pata hai,” I say.

We arrive at her home. Her sister is standing at the gate. She sees her getting out of the car.

“Are Ishu, itni late kyun ho gayi aaj? Main kitni der se khadi hoon. Maa ne bola tha agar tum aa jao to saath mein mandir jayenge.”

She stops speaking when she sees me step out of the car.

Ishika still doesn’t speak.

Her mother comes outside, sees me with Ishika, and says,
“Are Vihaan ji, andar aaiye na. Kab aaye aap?”

“Ji,” I nod.

She sees Ishika standing with me, wearing my coat. She smiles softly and says,
“Andar chalo Ishu beta, thand bahut hai.”

We go inside.

Ishika doesn’t sit. She goes directly upstairs, my coat still with her.

Her mom says,
“Ishu ke papa abhi ghar pe nahi aaye hain. Lekin aap kisi kaam se aaye honge. Main unko phone karke bula leti hoon.”

“Ji nahi, koi zarurat nahi hai,” I say.

“Main to bas aapko invitation dene aaya tha.”

“Hamaare ghar Durga Puja hai, do din ke baad. Dadi sa ne khaas aapko nyota dene ko bola tha, to wahi dene aaya hoon,” I explain.

“Durga Puja? Hum zarur aayenge,” she says.

“Ishu aapke saath aayi abhi?” she asks.

“Ji, hum unko college se ghar lekar aaye,” I reply.

“Dhanyavaad. Ye ladki sunti hi nahi hai. Itni thand mein bhi der se aati hai,” she says.

“Aapko shukriya kehne ki koi zarurat nahi hai,” I say.

She comes downstairs, wearing a purple and black night suit, carrying my coat in her small hands.

“Ji… aapka coat,” she hands it to me.

“Shukriya,” I say and stand up to leave.

She looks up at me. Her brown eyes are calm, like the ocean.

“Hum chalte hain,” I say.

I look at her one last time and say,
“Aapke jawab ka intezar poore Rathore parivaar ko hai, Ishika ji.”

She looks at me. Her calm eyes turn worried.

Her mom says,
“Ji, hame bhi intezar hai.”

I leave for the Haveli.

I arrive and go inside the garden. Maa is sitting there, preparing vegetables for dinner.
There are hundreds of servants in the Rathore Haveli, but dinner is always prepared by the Rathore bahu. Dadi sa believes that.

Maa sits on a chair. I sit beside her.

“Ishika ji ke ghar ja kar aaya hoon.”

“Nyota de diya? Ye achhi baat hai,” she says.

“Ladki aayegi, Haveli dekhegi. Sabke saath baat-cheet karegi, to hame zyada samajh payegi,” maa says.
“Abhi to bacchi hai wo.”

“Ji nahi maa,” I correct her.
“Rishton ko samajhne layak to hai.”

“Vihaan beta, hum umar ki baat kar rahe hain,” she says.

“Wo yahan ke riti-rivaz abhi nahi seekh payegi. Aur wo modern bhi hai. Dadi sa ke purane khayalat se mel nahi kha payegi,” maa adds.

“Agar unka jawab haan hua, to wo seekh lengi maa,” I say calmly.
“Aur agar nahi seekh payi, to hum hain unko sikhane ke liye.”

“Dadi sa ke banaye niyam par kisi ne bhi virodh nahi kiya. Aage bhi nahi hoga,” I say.

“Vihaan, tumhe ladki pasand hai, ya phir tum sirf dadi sa ki pasand se shaadi karna chahte ho?” maa asks.

How do I explain to her that I like her…
That I want her…
And more than that, dadi sa choosing her for me is already a victory.

“Ji,” I say firmly.
“Hame pasand hai.”

“Vihaan beta, lekin wo tumse umar mein bahut chhoti—”

“Dadi sa ki pasand par sawal uthana hame achha nahi lagta, maa,” I say and stand up.

“Hum thak gaye hain. Baad mein baat karenge,” I say and leave.

Inside, the Haveli is glowing with decorations.

In my room, I sit on the bed and think of her.

Because after two days, she will come to my home.

And that day…
I want her answer.

Because her answer will decide our future.