For a fraction of a second, Arnav's fingers brushed the inside of his jacket pocket.
The earring.
Should I return it now?
He glanced at her ear—noticed the absence.
If she's realized it's missing, she'll ask, he told himself.
If she hasn't… it'll just be awkward.
He stayed silent.
Across from him, Pranati hesitated too.
Her fingers instinctively reached up to her ear—then stopped halfway.
No, she decided.
If he had it, he would've returned it already. Asking would be weird.
They stood there—both thinking, both retreating.
Arnav broke the pause. "Did you want to say something?"
Pranati blinked. "No… why? Do you want to hear something?"
"No," he replied automatically.
He stepped forward, intending to pass her—
—and suddenly felt resistance.
Metal clicked softly.
His cufflink had caught in her bangles.
They both froze.
Slowly, instinctively, they looked down—then back up.
Their faces were closer now. Too close to ignore. Too close to dismiss.
The world around them softened.
And somewhere in the background, faint but unmistakable, music drifted in—
Jitni dafa dekhun tumhe
Dhadke zoron se
Aisa toh kabhi hota nahi
Milke ghairon se…
Pranati swallowed.
Arnav's jaw tightened—not in discomfort, but in restraint.
He carefully reached for the bangles, trying to free the cufflink without touching her skin. His fingers brushed her wrist anyway—warm, brief, electric.
Door jaana nahi…
Tumko hai kasam…
Neither of them moved away.
Neither acknowledged the closeness.
Their eyes held—curious, unsettled, searching.
Khudse zyada tumhe
Chaahatein hain sanam…
Arnav finally pulled his hand back, the cufflink free.
Pranati took a small step away, clearing her throat.
"Well," she said lightly, pretending nothing had happened, "seems like even your clothes don't want you leaving."
He looked at her—really looked this time.
And for reasons he couldn't name, he didn't smile… but something softened in his gaze.
She turned and walked inside, the hem of her lehenga swaying gently.
Behind her, unheard but lingering—
Dil mein jo bhi hai
Tera hi toh hai…
Arnav stood there a moment longer than necessary.
The earring felt heavier in his pocket.
And for the first time that day, he forgot why he'd wanted to leave.
Arnav quietly unclasped his cufflinks, slipping them into his pocket as if to steady himself. By the time he looked up again, Pranati was already walking away, her lehenga brushing the marble floor, her presence lingering far longer than it should have.
She stopped near the mandir area, where Dadi stood with Vedshree and Suman, watching the celebrations.
Pranati folded her hands politely.
"Happy Maha Shivratri," she said warmly. "May Lord Shiva bless you all."
Dadi's face softened instantly. "Happy Maha Shivratri, beta."
She turned to the other two women. "This is the same girl I told you about—the one who helped me at the temple."
Pranati smiled. "Pranati Kaur."
Vedshree looked at her properly now.
Not just seeing her—feeling her.
There was something inexplicable… familiar. A calm warmth settled in Vedshree's chest, as though Pranati's presence eased a worry she hadn't even voiced. Without realizing it, her lips curved into a gentle smile.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Pranati," Vedshree said, her voice instinctively affectionate.
Suman nodded politely beside her, curious but reserved.
Pranati opened the tiffin carefully. "This is the sweet dish you ordered, Dadi. I made it fresh—no shortcuts."
Dadi reached for her purse. "At least let me—"
Pranati immediately shook her head, closing the lid softly and pushing the purse away.
"No, Dadi. Please don't."
They all looked at her.
"This isn't an order," Pranati continued simply. "It's an offering. For Lord Shiva. Some things shouldn't have a price."
Dadi's eyes misted slightly as she held the tiffin to her chest. "May Shiva always keep you protected, beta."
Vedshree felt it again—that tug in her heart. She didn't know why, but she knew one thing with certainty.
This girl belongs here… in some way.
From a distance, unnoticed, Arnav watched the scene.
The way Pranati stood—unassuming, sincere.
The way his family gravitated toward her—effortlessly.
And something deep inside him stirred… quiet, unfamiliar, and unsettling.
---
Arav leaned slightly toward Arnav, nodding toward where Pranati had just stepped away with the tiffin.
"Bhaiya… isn't that the same girl?" he asked quietly. "The one Daavansh almost… you know… on the highway a few days ago?"
Arnav's gaze didn't waver. "Yeah… she's the one I almost…" His voice trailed off, a shadow crossing his features.
Ranav interjected, trying to lighten the moment but serious underneath. "Brother, it wasn't really you. That… that was Daavansh."
Arnav shook his head slowly. "Regardless. It was still me. Every part of me." His tone was low, threaded with guilt and unease.
Arav glanced again at Pranati, curiosity peeking through his concern. "So… what's she doing here, by the way? Delivering food?"
Arnav's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah… she runs a home delivery service. Dadi probably placed an order."
Ranav's eyebrows lifted. "Oh." Simple. But the pause that followed said everything—he could feel the unspoken tension, the quiet pull Arnav had toward the girl.
Arnav let out a breath, forcing himself to look away. "Just… don't read too much into it."
Arav smirked but kept his tone light. "Right… of course. Nothing to read into here. Just the girl who somehow survived Daavansh and now shows up delivering sweets to the villa."
Arnav didn't answer. He just kept watching, an almost imperceptible weight settling on his chest, the memory of the highway incident mingling with the calmness of her presence now.
The brothers exchanged a glance. They didn't push. They knew better than to disturb a storm quietly brewing in their elder brother.