Page 34 of Knot So Romantic

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if this would be appropriate, and then ask anyway. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you married?”

“Eight years,” he says. “Until it became so apparent that we wanted different things, and try as I did, I could not make it work.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It was a challenging time,” he shrugs. His eyes soften as our gazes meet and hold. “But hey, at least now I have the wisdom to appreciate good company and delicious laddoos, right?” He picks up another laddoo and holds it up. “Did you know that a laddoo is as timeless as a classic Bollywood movie?”

I notice he’s changing the subject to something lighter, maybe to avoid talking about his past. I decide to go along with it. I love movies, and I can talk about them all day. “I’d pick a timeless Amitabh Bachchan classic over the latest Netflix release any day,” I say.

“You mean you like the good old days when the Internet was unheard of and ‘fast food’ meant eating your mom’s homemade aloo tikkis in a hurry?”

I laugh. “Something like that.”

Soon, we’re talking about our favorite movies, and he’s surprised to learn that I love movies from the ‘90s like ‘Roja’ (his favorite too), and old movie stars like Rekha and Sridevi. And, of course, Amitabh Bachchan - Big B.

“Seriously, I didn’t think you even knew who Big B was!” he jokes. “Do you have a favorite Big B classic?”

“The angry young man in Deewar.”

“No way! Mine too!” He belly-laughs, and at that moment, something stirs deep inside me. It’s like every emotion that’s been skittering beneath the surface for days is now bubbling up.

We finish up the sweets and empty the box.

And then, as we’re ready to leave, I rise from the ledge. Suddenly, my foot slips, and I’m about to fall when he swiftly grasps my waist and steadies me.

Inadvertently, I’m pulled straight onto his lap. At that moment, our noses are inches apart. I feel his warm breath on my face, mixed with the sweet aroma of laddoos.

Time seems to stand still as I find myself lost in his deep, dark eyes. My heart races and a familiar warmth spreads through my body. His arms around me feel strong and protective, and I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to close the small distance between us and press my lips against his. The thought sends a tingle down my spine, and I unconsciously lick my lips, my gaze dropping to his mouth. I can feel the heat of his palm cupping my lower back and the solid muscles of his thighs beneath me. It’s both thrilling and intoxicating, being this close to him.

Before I know it, I lean in, putting my arms around his neck, my lips brushing against his lightly.

My phone rings just then, the shrill ringtone ruining the moment. It’s Mom.

“Oh my gosh! I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry!” I pull away, staring at my feet in embarrassment. I didn’t expect to get carried away, although honestly, I don’t feel sorry for kissing Neel. Well, almost kissing him!

When I look up again, Neel is...blushing?

“That was...I mean...wow...um...” Neel stammers, his deep voice trailing off into a flustered chuckle, only making me want to kiss him again.

I can’t forget the look in his eyes and the way his gaze slides to my lips again when we part.

Thanks, Mom. Your timing couldn’t be worse if you tried.

CHAPTER 14

Neel

It’s early morning, too early to call on Kavita, but as I jog around the park, passing her boutique with each lap, I notice the lights on inside. I want to talk about our collaboration like we planned, but this early, it’s really just an excuse to see her.

Dripping with sweat, I stop and think about whether I should go in now. I check my watch, wondering if it’s too early to drop by without calling first. After a moment’s hesitation, I decide to take a chance. I push open the gate and step inside, only to be startled by a man rushing toward me from the side of the building, waving a sickle. Surprised and a little freaked out, I instinctively back up a few steps.

I hadn’t anticipated being greeted by a man with a sickle, of all things. I brace myself, unsure of what to expect next. I just hope Kavita is alright and that this unusual situation isn’t a sign of trouble.

“Boutique is closed, sir,” the man says, puffing as he stands before me. It takes a moment to realize that this is Ramu, the guard who had barged into Kavita’s boutique the last time I was here.

“I just need to speak to Kavita,” I explain.

“Sorry, sir, the boutique’s closed,” he repeats in broken English.