Sunday had arrived much faster than Pragya had intended.
Far, far faster.
On Saturday evening, she had been completely certain that she would have a peaceful night. She had promised herself that she would finish her dinner, call Papa, talk to Bristi for a while, perhaps read a few pages of her book, and then sleep before midnight.
It had sounded like a perfectly reasonable plan.
Unfortunately, Pragya and reasonable plans had never been particularly good friends.
By eleven-thirty, she was lying comfortably on her bed with a novel in her hands.
At 11:45, she told herself she would stop after the chapter.
At midnight, she turned another page.
At 12:20, she was still reading.
At 12:45, she had forgotten that Sunday existed.
At 1:15, she had become emotionally invested in the fictional lives of two characters who did not even exist.
At 1:40, she whispered,
"One last chapter."
At 1:55, she was still reading.
Finally, at 2:07 a.m., she closed the book and stared at the ceiling.
The story had ended beautifully.
Pragya sighed happily.
"That was worth losing sleep over."
Then she looked at the clock.
Her smile disappeared.
"Oh, no."
She remembered the lunch.
She remembered Alekhyo.
She remembered that he had told her they should leave early.
She remembered that she had confidently promised she would be ready.
"I am going to regret this tomorrow."
She placed the book on the bedside table.
"Definitely."
Within seconds, she was asleep.
Her prediction proved correct.
Unfortunately, the person suffering from it was not the fictional heroine in her book.
It was Pragya herself.
"Pragya, wake up!",her subconscious mind murmured.
Nothing.
Her phone rang.
She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head.
"Pragya!", her mind murmured again.
Still nothing.
The phone rang again.
She blindly reached for it.
Missed it.
It rang again.
She slapped her hand across the mattress until she finally found it.
Without looking at the screen, she answered.
"Hello?"
"FINALLY!"
Pragya immediately pulled the phone away from her ear.
"Alekhyo?"
"Yes!"
"Why are you shouting?"
"I've been calling you for almost forty minutes!"
She opened one eye.
"What time is it?"
"Eight-thirty."
She opened the other.
Her gaze moved toward the clock.
8:30.
Her eyes widened.
"What?!"
"I knew you'd say that."
"Why didn't you wake me earlier?"
"I called you!"
"I didn't hear!"
"I called again."
"Still didn't hear."
"Then I called again."
"Still nothing."
"I think your phone has more patience than I do."
Pragya sat upright.
"Oh my God."
"You slept late again, didn't you?"
"No."
There was silence.
Alekhyo laughed.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You sound half-dead."
"I am perfectly fine."
"You're probably still in bed."
"I am not."
"Pragya."
"What?"
"I can hear your blanket."
She looked down at it.
"How can you hear my blanket?"
"I don't know. I just know."
She sighed.
"Fine. I slept late."
"How late?"
"That's irrelevant."
"How late?"
"Two."
Alekhyo groaned.
"Of course."
"I was reading."
"You always say that."
"Because it's true."
"You have lunch today."
"I know."
"Then get ready."
"I'll be ready."
"When?"
"Soon."
"That's not a time."
"Give me thirty minutes."
"Twenty."
"Twenty-five."
"Twenty."
"Fine!"
She ended the call.
Then stared at her phone.
"You're annoying."
A pause.
She smiled.
"But helpful."
She jumped out of bed.
The next twenty minutes were absolute chaos.
Pragya rushed into the bathroom.
Came out.
Opened her wardrobe.
Rejected one outfit.
Then another.
Then another.
"Too formal."
Another.
"Too casual."
Another.
"No."
Finally, she found the outfit she wanted.
A beautiful kurti in a graceful shade that complemented her dusky complexion and brought out the warm hazel of her eyes.
She stood in front of the mirror.
Adjusted her earrings.
Fixed her hair.
Straightened the fabric.
She smiled faintly.
"Okay."
She picked up her handbag.
Then checked it.
Phone.
Wallet.
Keys.
Small notebook.
Lip balm.
Everything.
She checked again.
Then looked at the book lying on her bedside table.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You're staying here."
She picked it up.
Held it for two seconds.
Then placed it back.
"No."
She walked toward the door.
Stopped.
Looked back.
"Definitely no."
Then she left.
Alekhyo was already waiting outside the girls' hostel.
He couldn't enter, so he had spent the last several minutes standing near the gate and checking his phone.
9:02.
9:07.
9:11.
He was about to call again when he finally saw her.
He stopped.
For a moment, he forgot what he was going to say.
Pragya walked toward him, adjusting her handbag.
"Sorry."
Alekhyo smiled.
"Twenty minutes late."
"I know."
"You promised."
"I know."
"You said you'd be ready."
"I am ready."
"Technically."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Don't start."
He laughed.
Then his eyes fell on her outfit.
"You look nice."
"Thank you."
She looked at him properly.
Then stopped.
"Wait."
"What?"
She looked at his kurta.
Then at herself.
Then back at him.
"Are we wearing the same colour?"
Alekhyo looked down.
"Oh."
Pragya burst out laughing.
"This is hilarious."
"What's funny?"
"People are going to think we planned this."
"We didn't."
"I know."
She looked at him mischievously.
"Still."
Alekhyo's ears turned slightly red.
Pragya didn't notice.
She simply walked toward the waiting cab.
"Come on."
Alekhyo followed.
Alekhyo had been carrying a secret for weeks.
He liked Pragya.
Not merely as a friend.
Not merely because she was beautiful.
He admired her personality.
Her courage.
Her honesty.
Her stubbornness.
Her fierce loyalty.
Her love for her family.
Her ability to argue about practically anything.
Even her terrible sleeping habits.
Especially the way she became completely lost in books.
He had fallen for her slowly.
And completely.
But Pragya had absolutely no idea.
To her, Alekhyo was simply one of the people who had made Chennai feel like home.
She trusted him.
She laughed with him.
She argued with him.
She shared things with him.
But there was no romantic thought in her mind.
Alekhyo knew that.
And that was why he hadn't confessed.
Not yet.
There were, however, people who knew.
Bristi knew.
Anubhab knew.
And Anubhab had already made his position clear.
During one of their conversations about racing, Alekhyo had finally admitted,
"Dada, I like her."
Anubhab had looked at him quietly.
"I know."
Alekhyo had stared.
"How?"
"You aren't exactly subtle."
Alekhyo groaned.
"Does Pragya know?"
"No."
"Good."
Anubhab smiled.
"She'll be the last person to realise."
Alekhyo sighed.
"I don't know how to tell her."
"You don't have to rush."
"I was thinking about her birthday."
Anubhab nodded.
"That's reasonable."
Bristi was helping him plan it.
The idea was simple.
No public spectacle.
No pressure.
Just honesty.
Alekhyo would tell Pragya how he felt on her birthday next month.
Until then, he would wait.
Anubhab had only given him one warning.
"If you hurt her, I'll deal with you."
Alekhyo had laughed nervously.
"I know."
"No. You don't."
That had ended the conversation.
Across the city, Ethan was getting ready.
His Sunday routine was considerably simpler.
Shower.
Gym.
Breakfast.
Work messages.
Then his grandparents' house.
He opened his wardrobe.
Black.
More black.
Even more black.
He picked a black shirt and black trousers.
His grandmother had once told him that he owned enough black clothes to dress an entire football team.
His response had been simple.
"I like black."
He picked up his watch.
Black.
Of course.
Then his phone rang.
It was his grandmother.
"Ethan?"
"Yes, Granny?"
"Are you coming?"
"Yes."
"And don't be late."
"I won't."
"And remember, Pragya is coming."
Ethan paused.
"What, Pragya is coming?"
"Yes."
"This is a surprise. Then I am not coming."
"You have to come for me, please."
"Only for you, I am coming."
"Good."
"And Pragya is bringing her friends."
"Her friends?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
His grandmother laughed.
"Why are you interrogating me?"
"I'm not."
"You sound like you are."
"I'm just asking."
"She'll tell you when she arrives."
Ethan sighed.
"Fine."
"See you."
The call ended.
Ethan shook his head.
He knew Pragya was coming.
He knew she was bringing friends.
But he didn't know who those friends were.
And he certainly didn't know that one of them was about to become a source of inexplicable irritation.
Ethan reached his grandparents' house before everyone else.
His grandmother opened the door.
"You're early."
"You told me not to be late."
"I didn't say to come early."
He gave her a look.
She laughed.
"Come inside."
His grandfather greeted him.
"Where's Eleanor?"
"Working."
"She couldn't get leave?"
"No."
His grandmother sighed.
"She wanted to come."
"I know."
Ethan sat down.
For several minutes, everything was peaceful.
Then the doorbell rang.
His grandmother smiled.
"That must be Pragya."
Ethan glanced toward the door.
His grandmother went to open it.
The moment the door opened, Pragya smiled.
"Granny!"
Her grandmother immediately hugged her.
"You came!"
"Of course I came."
"And this must be Alekhyo."
"Yes, Granny."
Alekhyo folded his hands politely.
"Namaskar."
His grandmother smiled warmly.
"Come in, child."
Ethan, sitting in the living room, heard the unfamiliar name.
Alekhyo.
He looked toward the entrance.
A young man stood beside Pragya.
Ethan's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
Who was he?
He had never seen him before.
Pragya walked inside.
Then noticed Ethan.
She stopped.
"Oh."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Hello."
"You're here."
"My grandparents' house."
"I know."
"Then why are you surprised?"
"I didn't know you were coming."
"My grandmother invited me."
"I didn't know."
Ethan glanced at Alekhyo.
"Apparently, there are surprises today."
Pragya folded her arms.
"Don't start."
"I haven't started."
"You're about to."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Alekhyo looked between them.
Then quietly said,
"Do you two always argue?"
Pragya and Ethan looked at him simultaneously.
"Yes."
"No."
They paused.
Pragya pointed at Ethan.
"He does."
Ethan pointed at her.
"She does."
Alekhyo smiled.
"Right."
Ethan finally turned toward him.
"You're Alekhyo?"
"Yes."
"Alekhyo Mukherjee?"
"Yes."
"Pragya's friend?"
"Yes."
Ethan nodded.
He had no reason to dislike him.
No reason whatsoever.
Alekhyo was polite.
Respectful.
Well-spoken.
And yet something about him immediately irritated Ethan.
He couldn't explain it.
He shook hands with him.
"Ethan Rodrigues."
Alekhyo smiled.
"I've heard about you."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Hopefully nothing terrible."
Alekhyo smiled.
"Mostly good things."
"Mostly?"
Pragya laughed.
"Don't ask."
Ethan looked at her.
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing."
"Then why is he smiling?"
"Maybe he has better manners than you."
Alekhyo laughed.
Ethan looked at him.
"You find this funny?"
"A little."
Pragya grinned.
"See?"
Ethan sighed.
"Wonderful."
Ethan's grandmother watched them with amusement.
She already knew about Alekhyo.
She had specifically asked Pragya to bring her friends.
She had expected Pragya to arrive with them.
Nothing about Alekhyo's presence surprised her.
In fact, she was pleased.
"Come sit," she told Alekhyo.
"Thank you."
"And don't worry. Pragya is always this troublesome."
"Granny!"
Alekhyo laughed.
"I've noticed."
Ethan looked at him.
"Already?"
Alekhyo smiled.
"She has a reputation."
Pragya gasped.
"Traitor."
Pragya put her handbag down.
Alekhyo noticed that the strap had twisted.
He quietly fixed it.
"Here."
"Thanks."
Ethan watched.
He didn't know why he noticed.
He simply did.
Then Alekhyo asked,
"Did you have breakfast?"
Pragya looked at him.
"Not properly."
Alekhyo sighed.
"I knew it."
"I was late."
"You should've eaten."
"I wasn't hungry."
"You never are when you're rushing."
Ethan's eyebrows rose.
He knew that already?
How?
How long had they known each other?
Pragya smiled.
"I'll eat now."
"Good."
Ethan suddenly felt that strange unpleasant sensation again.
A tightness somewhere in his stomach.
He frowned.
What was wrong with him?
He had met this man barely ten minutes ago.
Why did he care?
He didn't.
Obviously.
He simply disliked irresponsible habits.
That was all.
Yes.
That had to be it.
The family eventually moved toward the dining room.
Pragya's eyes immediately brightened.
"This looks amazing."
Her grandmother laughed.
"Sit down and eat."
"I will."
Alekhyo pulled a chair slightly away from the table for her.
"Careful."
Pragya sat.
"Thanks."
Ethan noticed.
Again.
That irritating sensation returned.
He didn't understand it.
He looked away.
His grandfather noticed.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
"You seem distracted."
"I'm not."
His grandmother smiled.
"Leave him."
Ethan gave her a suspicious glance.
She pretended not to notice.
Throughout lunch, Alekhyo seemed to notice everything about Pragya.
When she reached for something, he moved it closer.
When she accidentally dropped her spoon, he handed her another.
When she started talking too quickly, he reminded her to eat.
When she started coughing due to talking and eating simultaneously, he quietly moved the water toward her.
None of it was dramatic.
None of it was inappropriate.
It was simply thoughtful.
But Ethan noticed every single thing.
And each time, that strange feeling became stronger.
His stomach twisted.
His jaw tightened.
He didn't understand.
He didn't even know what he was feeling.
He only knew that he didn't like Alekhyo being so close to Pragya.
Ethan's grandmother eventually smiled.
"Alekhyo."
"Yes, Granny?"
"You take very good care of Pragya."
Alekhyo immediately became embarrassed.
"She's my friend."
His grandfather smiled.
"Very good friend?"
Pragya laughed.
"Yes."
Alekhyo looked at her.
His eyes softened.
There was so much affection in that look that anyone paying attention could have understood it.
Everyone except Pragya.
She simply smiled at him.
"He's one of my best friends here."
Alekhyo looked down.
His grandmother noticed.
So did Ethan.
Pragya did not.
Ethan's eyes remained on his plate.
He told himself to ignore it.
He tried.
He genuinely tried.
But every time Alekhyo spoke to Pragya, Ethan noticed.
Every time Pragya laughed at something Alekhyo said, Ethan noticed.
Every time Alekhyo looked after her, Ethan noticed.
And every time he noticed, something unpleasant twisted inside him.
It wasn't anger.
Not exactly.
It wasn't irritation either.
At least, not ordinary irritation.
It was something else.
Something he couldn't identify.
And Ethan Rodrigues hated things he couldn't identify.
Especially feelings.
So he pushed them away.
He had no reason to care.
He barely knew Alekhyo.
He certainly had no idea that Alekhyo had feelings for Pragya.
He didn't know about the birthday plan.
He didn't know Anubhab was helping him.
He didn't know Bristi knew.
He didn't know anything.
All Ethan knew was that this unfamiliar man had somehow managed to become far too comfortable beside Pragya.
And Ethan didn't like it.
After lunch, Pragya stepped into the garden.
She wanted some air.
A few minutes later, Ethan walked outside.
She turned.
"You followed me?"
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because it's my grandparents' house."
"Oh."
She looked away.
Then glanced at his clothes.
"Black again."
Ethan looked down.
"Yes."
"Do you own anything else?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Black."
She laughed.
"That doesn't count."
"It does to me."
"You seriously need to wear another colour."
"No."
"Why?"
"I like black."
"You always say that."
"You always ask."
"Maybe I'm trying to improve your fashion sense."
"I don't need your help."
"Clearly you do."
Ethan glanced at her.
"Your fashion advice is questionable."
She looked down at her kurti.
"What is wrong with this?"
"Nothing."
She smiled.
"Was that a compliment?"
"No."
"You said there's nothing wrong with it."
"That's not a compliment."
"It absolutely is."
He sighed.
"You're impossible."
"And you're grumpy."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"You're irritating."
"You're arrogant."
"Stubborn."
"Judgmental."
"Dramatic."
"Cold."
"Talkative."
She smiled.
"You're enjoying this."
Ethan paused.
"No."
"You are."
"I'm tolerating it."
"Same thing."
For the briefest moment, Ethan smiled.
Pragya pointed immediately.
"There!"
"What?"
"You smiled!"
"No."
"You did!"
"I didn't."
"I saw it."
"You imagined it."
She laughed.
"Pragya?"
She turned.
Alekhyo was standing at the doorway.
"There you are."
"What's wrong?"
"Granny was looking for you."
"Oh."
He looked at Ethan.
"Everything okay?"
Ethan nodded.
"Fine."
Alekhyo looked back at Pragya.
"Ready?"
"Yeah."
He noticed that her hair had fallen slightly over her face.
"Wait."
He pointed toward it.
Pragya fixed it.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
Ethan watched.
Again.
That feeling.
Stronger.
He looked away.
He didn't understand why.
He didn't want to understand why.
He simply didn't like Alekhyo standing beside Pragya.
That was all.
At least, that was what Ethan told himself.
Pragya, meanwhile, was completely oblivious.
She didn't notice Ethan's expression.
She didn't notice Alekhyo's nervousness.
She didn't notice the way Alekhyo looked at her.
She didn't notice the way Ethan watched them.
To her, this was simply another Sunday.
Lunch with Eleanor's grandparents.
A little teasing.
A little arguing.
A little family warmth.
And one of her closest friends accompanying her.
She smiled at Alekhyo.
"Come on."
He followed her inside.
Ethan remained where he was.
His eyes followed them.
His stomach twisted again.
He frowned.
"What is wrong with me?"
He had no answer.
And perhaps that was what bothered him most.
Because Ethan Rodrigues was accustomed to understanding everything.
Business.
Numbers.
People.
Risks.
Problems.
But this?
This strange, irrational dislike of seeing Alekhyo beside Pragya?
He couldn't understand it.
And he certainly wasn't ready to admit that he didn't want to see the young man anywhere near her.
Not because Alekhyo had done anything wrong.
Not because Ethan knew anything about him.
Not because he knew about his feelings.
He knew absolutely none of that.
It was simply an instinctive reaction.
An unfamiliar irritation.
A strange possessiveness he didn't recognise.
And the most frustrating part was that Pragya had no idea any of it was happening.
She was already laughing with Alekhyo inside.
And Ethan, standing alone in the garden, found himself listening to that laughter.
For some inexplicable reason—
he wanted to be the person who caused it.
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