⋆ ——————— shaurya ⋮ ⋆

MY BRAIN REFUSED to function properly. I accidentally went into the wrong street to deliver a shawarma order and then had to turn all the way around, get stuck in traffic and test my customer's patience. I walked up to the door and rang the bell. A middle-aged woman opened the door, a little boy clinging onto her leg. I wondered why the boy hadn't slept yet because it was almost midnight.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I got stuck in traffic and —"

"Yeah, yeah, the same excuse every delivery man gives. Be a little slower na, next time? So that you can bring me cold food instead," she snapped and I hung my head down.

"I am really sorry, Ma'am. This won't happen again," I apologized. She gave me a glare, lifted the boy to place him on her hip and then took the takeout from me.

"Don't give your word so easily when nothing is in your control," she sneered before shutting the door on my face. If it weren't for the rudeness of some customers like her, I would've even taken extra shifts to help out Aarav. Ending my whole day with a bad note was something I hated. Everyday I made sure I went to bed content, if not happy. Never angry or hurt. It was something Ma imprinted in me to follow.

I climbed onto my motorbike and then thinking I was done for the day, changed routes to my house. Before I could do so, a familiar ping sounded from my phone and I groaned. Not another order.

I checked my phone and nearly lost my balance when a milkshake order from Sunset Pier blinked on my screen. I clicked onto the address and the two words I saw made my heart race.

Sitara Sagar.

The last time I had seen her, she had asked me for a hug. And without even fully comprehending what I was doing, I had taken her tiny form into my arms and hugged her. Somehow the only thought that ran in my head at that moment was to see her smile. Again and again and again. I simply couldn't say no — not that I wanted to — but she had me completely enchanted.

I could still remember what she smelled like — strawberries and toasted sugar; the scent had engulfed me and I found my shirt smelling the same when I went home. Even though her sweater had been cold on the outside, the heat from her body warmed me with comfort, a type of a feeling close to home; that was what bothered me so much. I hadn't wanted to pull away at all. I just wanted to hold her and stay with her.

With a smile on my face, I claimed the order quickly before anyone else did, and drove to Sunset Pier. I picked up both the orders after I smartly cut short the conversation with Nisha and headed towards Purple Fields. I almost expected a call from her asking me to deliver the milkshakes to the terrace but I didn't receive one. Nevertheless, I made my way to her flat 7D and raised my hands to knock on the door. But then for some reason, I pulled back. I combed my hair to tidy them and I dusted my faded yellow t-shirt, hoping I looked decent.

Then I rang the doorbell.

⋆ ——————— sitara ⋮ ⋆

I was in the midst of responding to the queries on Instagram when the doorbell rang. I paused and bit my lip, hoping it would be Shaurya. There wasn't any reason in particular as to why I wanted to see him or why my thoughts kept running back to him and his dark eyes. I just really liked spending time with him and hearing his voice.

I had been beating myself over for the last few days for asking for a hug so blatantly. When he draped his jacket over my legs, I felt his warm breath fan my skin which apparently short-circuited my brain. I wasn't sure if he had hugged me back because he wanted to or because he didn't want to hurt my feelings by declining it. But personally, I felt his hug to be genuine because the way he had tightened his arms around my body, and the warmth of him making me forget everything happening around me — they simply weren't things that could be ignored. I felt protected, loved and respected, all at the same time. Isn't that what every woman wanted?

I just hoped the hug didn't make it awkward between us because the second we pulled away last time, we had refused to look each other in the eye. We both felt something, I knew that. And I wanted to bridge the gap between us not distance us further with my stupidity.

I heard the doorbell ring again and hurried to open the door before Mrs. Malgudi — the fifty-year-old neighbour in 7C — woke up and started snooping on what I was doing. My parents had asked her to check in on me once a while, while they attended my distant cousin's wedding in Ilfir.

I peeked in to see if it was Shaurya and when my eyes met his, I stepped out from behind the door eagerly. My heart raced. He stood with a knowing smile on his face, his hands holding two take-away cups and his hair rustled a little. "Were you expecting me, Sitar?"

"No," I said, swallowing.

"You aren't very good at lying, are you?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Shut up," I mumbled, taking the cups from him. "Do you wanna come in?"

"Is that okay? Your parents —"

"Won't be here for another week. I am all alone in this flat which I am glad for. I need a temporary break from the constant yapping of my impending marriage," I said, waving him forward. He walked in and shrugged his feet out of his shoes. I took them and placed them on the rack before I set to clear the couch.

"I could have done that myself," He said. I waved him off and pushed my files to one side to make space. He looked around the house like a normal first-timer would do and took interest in the photo frames hung on the wall.

"You are an only child?" He asked.

"Yes."

"I assume that's why you still stay with your parents without moving out?" He asked and I paused my work to stare at him.

"How did you guess?"

"You complain about your parents annoying you. From the past two meetings, I can tell you are an independent person who likes to have control of your life. By now, you should have moved out but you are still here. I just connected all of them," He shrugged and I smiled.

"At some point of time, I have to move out, right? When I get married? So, I just wanted to spend time with them as much as I could. I don't want them wishing they could have had a second child because they are lonely now. Besides the marriage thing, they are cool. I love them but sometimes they just don't understand things." I gestured to him to come sit beside me and he did.

"You could always visit them," He suggested.

"I will do that when I get married. Until then, I am sure I can put up with them," I said. "Wait, do you have a sibling?"

"Yes, an older sister. She is the most talkative person I have ever known, even more than you. You two would get along well," He said and I laughed at his expression.

"Where is she now?"

"Settled in Texas. But, she just won't leave me alone even if she is oceans apart from me. Everyday, she calls me up and complains that her husband is not having time to talk to her or even if he does talk, he stops with the instructions and occasional acknowledgements. He only spends ample time with their children, it seems. Amara just can't stop talking and it's almost funny that she married a person who rarely converses," He said, and there was an adorable smile on his face as he recalled whatever memory he was thinking about. "When I tell her to stop torturing me, she says that since Ma is not here anymore, it was my duty to hear all her rants. I deserve an award for putting up with her, really."

I chuckled. "I'm sure she isn't that bad. If you can't put up with her, how are you going to put up with me?" I asked and then my eyes widened. "As a friend!" I hurriedly added.

"I know," he said after a few seconds but the question went unanswered. I handed over the milkshake cup to him and then started sipping on mine.

"When are your parents coming again?" He asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "Next Wednesday. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

I frowned but I let it slide. "Anyway, when they come I am going to be bunking at one of my friend's for at least a week because they will list every girl's name they met at the wedding who is younger than me and is already married; how they are settled happily with kids and with a good family blah blah blah. Might as well run into a hellhole instead of hearing all of it," I sighed.

"Have they tried seeking alliances for you?"

"Don't even start on that," I said, stretching my legs onto the tea table and leaning against the armrest. "Do you know how many guys I had to reject?"

He didn't answer. "Six," I stated, "All of them couldn't handle a wife who sells organic pads, tampons, and all sorts of intimate products because apparently it is not a profession someone can boast about. Bullshit."

I continued. "They've got to know that without these products no menstruater could keep themselves hygienic or reproduce healthily. There's no shame in that. It's just a basic need for survival. And they have the nerve to ask me to quit the job before marrying them, as if I am doing some illegal profession. They say they are open-minded and 'modern' but in some way they still contribute to the social stigma. They are hesitant that my profession will lower the class or the image of their family. I don't need a husband who cannot accept me as the way I am, or doesn't share my views and opinions."

"And, I am not generalising this behaviour to all men. I know a lot of men who are willing to fight against this social stigma and contribute to normalising periods instead. My friend's husband supports us and similarly, many stand with us. India is making progress but people need to be more understanding that menstruation is normal. They need to look beyond taboos and social pressure. I am sure I can find a man out of this lot who agrees with me."

I paused my rant to look at him and he had amusement in his eyes. "What?"

"You are an incredible woman, Sitar. I admire you," He said and there was sincerity in his words. It made my heart swell with a feeling unknown to me. I wanted to tackle him in a hug. So, instead of asking for it again and coming off as a creep, I asked the next best thing.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

I didn't expect him to agree to it because it was pretty late already but he did. I got my laptop and a pair of earphones before I switched off the lights and huddled closer to him on the couch. With a milkshake in my hands, I played an English movie that I had been meaning to watch on Netflix.

The giddiness I felt when I realized that I was watching a movie with him was very high. I couldn't stop smiling.

Not even halfway through the movie, my milkshake got over. When I turned to place the cup away, I saw that Shaurya had his eyes closed, his earphones hanging off his ear and his hand loosely wrapped against the milkshake cup in his lap.

I wanted to kiss him. Really.

But, of course I didn't. I am not mad enough to do it.

I slowly removed the cup from his hands and then guided his head to my shoulders. I watched the rest of the movie like that. His soft hair brushed my cheek when they were levitated by the wind of the fan. At one point of time, his arm snaked around mine and I realized he wasn't doing it consciously. Cute.

I tapped his cheek lightly when the credits rolled in. "Shaurya," I whispered, "Do you want to stay here for the night?"

His eyes opened slightly and then closed again. "Is that okay?" His voice was hoarse, a kind of husky that invited goosebumps on my skin.

"Of course," I said, helping him make himself comfortable in my bed. I pulled the covers over him and sat in the small space beside him.

"Good night, Shaurya," I whispered, but he was already asleep.

I pushed his hair out of his eyes. "I think I'm getting addicted to you."

⋆ —————————— ⋆

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