He was watching me with an expression that made my heart skip. There was a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, genuine and unguarded.
"See?" he said, walking over to stand beside me. "Plucking mangoes is not as easy as coding, is it?"
I laughed, looking down at the mango in my hands.
"Definitely not. I think I will stick to my laptop."
We plucked a few more mangoes together, though this time Armaan just handed me the stick while he steadied the branch from a safer distance. I was grateful for the space. Being that close to him made it impossible to think straight.
Once we had gathered half a dozen mangoes, we brought them over to where Dadi and Mamta ji were sitting. Mamta ji went to get a knife and plates, and soon we were all sitting together in the garden, peeling and eating fresh mangoes.
The fruit was sweet and juicy, perfectly ripe. The juice ran down our fingers, and we laughed as we tried to eat them without making too much of a mess. Dadi looked happier than I had seen her since the accident, her eyes bright with joy as she watched Armaan and me.
The afternoon sun filtered through the mango tree leaves, casting golden light across the garden. Birds chirped in the trees. A gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers.
It felt like family. It felt like home.
Chapter 13
Armaan
I woke to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, my hand instinctively reaching across the bed before my eyes had fully opened.
Empty.
The sheets on Viya's side were cool to the touch, meaning she had been up for a while now. I turned my head and looked at the indent on her pillow, the faint impression of where her head had rested just hours ago.
She must have woken early again. Probably in the kitchen right now, cooking breakfast for Dadi. Making sure everything was perfect before she left for the office.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the woman who had somehow become the center of my world in the span of just two weeks.
Viya was incredible. That was the only word for it. Incredible.
Nobody would ever guess from her soft spoken nature and innocent demeanor that she possessed the strength to handle crisis situations the way she did. The way she had managed everything when Dadi fell, getting her to the hospital alone, making all the right decisions under pressure. The way she cared for Dadi now, feeding her personally, sitting with her, making sure she was comfortable and happy.
The way she had comforted me in that hospital hallway when I was falling apart, holding me together when I could not hold myself.
I found myself intrigued by her in a way I had never experienced before. I wanted to know everything about her. What made her smile. What made her sad. What dreams she had tucked away in corners of her heart. I wanted to spend more time with her, to peel back the layers and discover who she really was beneath the quiet exterior.
I had never felt this way about anyone. Not even Avija.
With Avija, everything had been surface level. Attraction, yes. Compatibility on paper. Shared social circles. But I had never felt this deep, consuming need to understand her the way I did with Viya.
The way Viya had seamlessly integrated herself into our family, taking care of Dadi like she was her own grandmother, handling household matters with quiet efficiency, it felt like she had always been meant to be here. Like God had always intended for her to fit perfectly into this space beside me.
I smiled at the thought, feeling something warm expand in my chest.
I did not know what was going to happen after a year. The agreement, the plan, all of that felt distant and unreal now. But right now, in this moment, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She belonged to me.
Not because of some contract or astrological arrangement. But because something fundamental had shifted between us. Something that made the idea of letting her go feel impossible.
I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, turning on the shower to let the water heat up. As I stood under the hot spray, I let my thoughts drift to the coming day. I would see her at the office. Maybe I could find an excuse to call her to my cabin. Maybe we could have lunch together.
The thought made me smile like an idiot.
After drying off and getting dressed in one of my usual work suits, I headed downstairs. The house smelled like fresh parathas and chai, and I could hear Mamta ji moving around in the kitchen.
