"Tell me about your education."
I looked up, surprised by the question.
"My education?"
"Yes. Where did you study? What made you choose computer science?"
I set my spoon down slowly, trying to organize my thoughts.
"I studied at Government Engineering College here in Rajmer. I chose computer science because I have always loved solving puzzles. Coding felt like the biggest, most complex puzzle I could find."
Armaan nodded, his eyes never leaving my face.
"Do you enjoy working at New Gen Corp?"
"Yes," I said honestly. "Very much. The projects are interesting, and my team is supportive. Vikrant sir is an excellent mentor."
"What about outside of work? What do you do for fun? What are your hobbies?"
The questions kept coming, gentle but persistent, and I found myself answering without thinking too hard about it.
"I like reading. Mostly fiction. Fantasy novels, mysteries, sometimes romance. I like going for walks when I have time. And I used to paint, when I was younger, but I have not done that in a long time."
"Why did you stop?"
I hesitated. How could I explain that painting required time and space and materials that Aunty had considered wasteful? That anything I did purely for enjoyment had always been viewed as selfish?
"Life got busy," I said finally, which was not entirely a lie.
Armaan studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see right through my careful non answer.
"What is your favorite food?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Anything sweet," I admitted with a small smile. "I have a terrible sweet tooth. Gulab jamun, jalebi, kheer, anything. If it has sugar in it, I probably like it."
Something shifted in Armaan's expression. Not quite a smile, but close.
"Ice cream?"
"Especially ice cream."
We finished dinner, and I started to stand up to clear the plates. But Armaan spoke before I could move.
"You worked hard today. Do you want to go get some ice cream?"
I opened my mouth to say no. To make some excuse about being tired or needing to finish my presentation or not wanting to impose.
But before I could form the words, Armaan's lips quirked up slightly at the corners.
"I can see the answer on your face, Viya. You do want ice cream."
Heat flooded my cheeks. Was I really that transparent?
Armaan stood up and pulled out his car keys from his pocket.
"Come on. Let us go."
"But I am in my pajamas," I protested weakly.
