The afternoon had quietly slipped into evening.
By the time the clock approached five, the bright sunlight that had flooded Eleanor's grandparents' house had softened into a warm golden glow. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, painting long golden patterns across the floor and illuminating the flowers arranged in the corners of the room.
Nobody seemed to have noticed how quickly the hours had passed.
What had begun as a simple Sunday lunch had somehow turned into an entire afternoon of conversations, laughter, memories, teasing, and stories.
Pragya had become completely comfortable.
At first, she had been slightly hesitant.
After all, Eleanor's grandparents were people she had only recently met. But their warmth had made it impossible for her to remain formal for long.
They had asked about IIT Madras.
Then biotechnology.
Then her childhood.
Then her friends.
Then her dreams.
Then her mother.
And somehow, Pragya had found herself telling them things she rarely spoke about.
Alekhyo had mostly remained beside her, occasionally adding something whenever Pragya exaggerated a story or conveniently forgot an embarrassing detail.
Ethan had stayed too.
That, in itself, was unusual.
Ethan Rodrigues was not exactly known for his patience with long family conversations.
He preferred efficiency.
He preferred conversations with a purpose.
Business meetings.
Negotiations.
Strategy.
Numbers.
Things that had a beginning, middle, and conclusion.
He usually had very little patience for sitting around while people discussed childhood memories and sentimental stories.
Yet he hadn't left.
He had remained in the room.
At first, he had told himself that he was staying because his grandparents wanted him there.
That was the logical explanation.
But somewhere along the way, he had stopped listening to the general conversation and started listening specifically to one voice.
Pragya's.
Hir grandmother had asked,
"So, Pragya, what do you do when you're not studying?"
Pragya's expression immediately brightened.
"Books."
Alekhyo laughed.
Her grandmother smiled.
"You love reading?"
"Love it?"
Pragya placed a hand dramatically over her heart.
"I survive because of books."
Ethan glanced at her.
She was suddenly completely different.
The girl who had spent half the afternoon arguing with him was now speaking with unmistakable excitement.
"I can spend hours reading."
"Hours?"
"Entire days."
Alekhyo interrupted.
"She's not exaggerating."
Pragya looked at him.
"Why are you exposing me?"
"Because it's true."
Her grandmother laughed.
"So what happens when you're reading?"
Pragya shrugged.
"I disappear."
"Disappear?"
"Yes."
She smiled.
"I stop noticing everything around me."
Alekhyo immediately added,
"She stops noticing time."
Pragya sighed.
"That's because books are more interesting than clocks."
Her grandmother laughed.
"What about food?"
"Sometimes I forget that too."
Alekhyo shook his head.
"That's why someone has to remind her to eat."
Pragya pointed at him.
"Don't encourage them."
Ethan quietly watched the exchange.
He found himself noticing how her hazel eyes seemed brighter whenever she talked about something she loved.
She didn't simply talk.
She became animated.
Her hands moved.
Her expressions changed.
Her voice became lighter.
She looked genuinely happy.
It was strangely difficult not to watch.
The conversation eventually moved toward the future.
Her grandfather asked,
"What do you want to do after IIT?"
Pragya leaned back slightly.
"I want to work in biotechnology research."
"Industry?"
"Maybe."
"Academia?"
"Possibly."
She thought for a moment.
"I haven't completely decided."
Then she smiled.
"But I want to do something meaningful."
Her grandmother nodded.
"And what does meaningful mean to you?"
Pragya became thoughtful.
"I don't know if I can explain it properly."
She paused.
"I just don't want to wake up one day and realise that I spent my whole life doing something I didn't care about."
Ethan looked at her.
That answer caught his attention.
She continued.
"I want to build something. Discover something. Contribute something."
Her voice became more confident.
"Even if it's small."
Her grandfather smiled.
"That's a good ambition."
Pragya smiled.
"I don't need to become famous."
Alekhyo looked at her.
"You say that now."
She laughed.
"I mean it."
"What if you become famous?"
"I'll hide."
"You hate attention that much?"
"I hate unnecessary attention."
Ethan almost smiled.
That sounded exactly like her.
The conversation slowly became quieter when her grandmother asked,
"And your family?"
Pragya smiled.
"My father is a surgeon."
Her grandmother looked impressed.
"A surgeon?"
"Yes."
"Then he must be very busy."
"He is."
Pragya laughed softly.
"But he still tries to make time for us."
"And your brother, Anubhab?"
Her expression changed immediately.
A little brighter.
"My brother is my best friend, my motivator and my biggest critique."
Alekhyo smiled.
Her grandmother laughed.
"Brothers and sisters can be very close."
"He's always been there for me," Pragya said quietly.
Then she paused.
"My father too."
Her smile remained.
But something about it changed.
Because inevitably—
her mother came into the conversation.
Her grandmother asked gently,
"And your mother?"
Pragya's fingers stopped moving.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she smiled faintly.
"My mother was an Odissi dancer."
Her grandmother's expression softened.
"Really?"
Pragya nodded.
"She was wonderful."
There was an unmistakable tenderness in her voice.
"She had her own academy."
"She taught young dancers."
"She loved it."
Her eyes brightened again.
"She really loved dancing."
Then she laughed softly.
"Apparently I was obsessed with it too."
Alekhyo smiled.
"How?"
"I used to accompany her to the academy."
"How old were you?"
Pragya smiled.
"One."
Her grandmother looked surprised.
"One?"
"According to Papa."
Pragya laughed.
"He says I would sit somewhere near the practice room and stare at everyone."
Alekhyo smiled.
"That sounds like you."
"What does that mean?"
"You still stare at people."
"I do not."
"You do."
"Not relevant."
Her grandmother laughed.
Pragya continued.
"She used to dance in front of me sometimes."
Her voice softened.
"I don't remember everything."
"But I remember pieces."
"The ghungroo."
"The music."
"The smell of the wooden floor."
"Her costume."
She smiled.
"I remember watching her."
Ethan listened.
He didn't know why.
He simply couldn't look away.
Then Pragya's voice became quieter.
"My grandparents didn't like her dancing."
Her grandmother frowned.
"Why?"
"They were very traditional."
She shrugged.
"They thought it wasn't appropriate."
"But she continued?"
"My father encouraged her."
There was pride in her voice.
"He always stood beside her."
She paused.
"Then she got sick."
The room became still.
Pragya looked down.
"She died when I was five."
Alekhyo's expression immediately softened.
Ethan stopped moving.
Something about the simplicity of that sentence disturbed him.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it wasn't.
She had said it quietly.
Almost casually.
As though she had repeated it so many times that she had learned to make the words smaller.
But Ethan could hear what she wasn't saying.
Five years old.
Too young to understand death.
Too young to understand why someone who had always been there suddenly wasn't.
Pragya continued.
"I don't remember everything about the hospital."
"I remember pieces."
"Papa trying to stay strong."
"Dabhai being there."
"Everyone being quiet."
Her voice trembled.
"And then..."
She swallowed.
"Everything changed."
A tear appeared in her eye.
She quickly wiped it away.
"I tried dancing afterward."
Alekhyo remained silent.
"I thought maybe if I learned Odissi properly, I could somehow feel closer to her."
Her voice cracked.
"But I couldn't."
She took a breath.
"Every time I tried..."
She stopped.
Her eyes became wet.
"I saw her."
The room remained silent.
"So I stopped."
Her grandmother gently reached across the table and held her hand.
"You were only five."
"I know."
"You don't have to be strong about it."
Pragya smiled sadly.
"I don't know how to be anything else."
That sentence hit Ethan harder than he expected.
Alekhyo didn't immediately speak.
He knew Pragya.
He knew she hated being pitied.
She didn't want sympathy.
She had said that herself.
Empathy, not sympathy.
So he didn't tell her,
"Don't cry."
He didn't say,
"Everything will be okay."
He didn't say,
"Be strong."
Instead, he simply remained beside her.
He quietly moved the glass of water closer.
Pragya took it.
"Thanks."
He nodded.
She looked away.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She immediately wiped it.
Alekhyo waited.
Then, after giving her enough time, he said,
"You know..."
She looked at him.
"You're probably the only person I know who can turn a perfectly normal Sunday lunch into an emotional three-act drama."
Pragya stared at him.
"What?"
Her grandmother laughed softly.
Alekhyo continued.
"We started with books."
"Then biotechnology."
"Then childhood."
"Now we're discussing tragic backstories."
Pragya narrowed her eyes.
"You're trying to make me laugh."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you look terrible when you're sad."
She stared.
"That's rude."
"I know."
She almost smiled.
"You're impossible."
"Thank you."
She finally laughed softly.
The heaviness in the room eased.
Her grandmother smiled.
Ethan watched.
He watched how Alekhyo didn't erase her sadness.
He simply helped her carry it.
And somehow—
he brought her smile back.
That irritated Ethan.
More than it should have.
Ethan looked away.
He didn't understand why the sight bothered him.
Alekhyo hadn't done anything wrong.
In fact, he had handled the situation perfectly.
He hadn't been intrusive.
He hadn't mocked her feelings.
He hadn't tried to become the centre of attention.
He had simply been there.
So why did Ethan feel that strange, unpleasant pang?
Why did he dislike seeing Alekhyo being the person who could make Pragya smile again?
He didn't know.
He didn't even have a name for the emotion.
He simply knew he didn't like it.
Eventually, Pragya checked her phone.
"It's five already."
Alekhyo looked at the time.
"We should leave."
Her grandmother immediately protested.
"So soon?"
Pragya smiled.
"We have classes tomorrow."
"You must visit again."
"I will."
"And bring your friends."
"Definitely."
Her grandfather turned toward Alekhyo.
"You too."
Alekhyo smiled.
"Of course."
Pragya stood.
Alekhyo automatically picked up her bag.
She noticed.
"You don't have to carry that."
"I know."
"Then why are you?"
"Because I'm already holding it."
She laughed.
"Fine."
Her grandmother hugged Pragya.
"Take care of yourself."
"I will."
"And eat properly."
Alekhyo immediately looked at her.
"She doesn't."
Pragya glared.
"Don't start."
Her grandmother laughed.
"You see? That's why you need friends."
Pragya groaned.
"I have a whole committee of them."
Alekhyo smiled.
At the doorway, Pragya turned back.
"Thank you for today."
Her grandmother smiled.
"You're always welcome."
Pragya hugged her again.
Her grandfather blessed her.
"Do well."
"I will."
She turned toward Ethan.
"Bye."
Ethan nodded.
"Bye."
She looked at him.
"Try wearing another colour sometime."
He stared at her.
"Never."
She laughed.
"Worth trying."
Alekhyo shook his head.
"Come on."
They walked toward the car.
Ethan remained at the doorway.
He watched Alekhyo open the door for Pragya.
Watched her get inside.
Watched Alekhyo walk around to the other side.
Something twisted inside him.
Again.
He frowned.
He hated this feeling.
The cab moved through Chennai's evening traffic.
The city had begun changing colour.
The bright afternoon had disappeared.
Shop signs glowed.
Streetlights flickered on.
The sky had become a mixture of orange, pink, and fading blue.
Pragya sat by the window.
For several minutes, neither she nor Alekhyo spoke.
Finally she said,
"That was nice."
Alekhyo smiled.
"It was."
"They were so sweet."
"They liked you."
"Really?"
"Very much."
She smiled.
"I liked them too."
A pause.
"Thank you."
Alekhyo looked at her.
"For what?"
"For earlier."
He knew exactly what she meant.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I wanted to."
He smiled.
"Then you're welcome."
Pragya looked outside again.
"I don't talk about Ma much."
"I know."
"I don't know why I did today."
"Maybe you felt comfortable."
She looked at him.
"Maybe."
He smiled.
"You don't have to talk about her if you don't want to."
"I know."
"And you don't have to pretend you're okay when you're not."
Pragya looked at him for a moment.
Then smiled.
"You sound very wise today."
"I have moments."
"Rare moments."
"Very rare."
She laughed.
There it was.
That laugh.
The one Alekhyo loved.
The one he wanted to protect.
Later that night, Ethan returned to his penthouse.
He changed into comfortable clothes.
Walked into his study.
Opened his laptop.
Work.
That was what he needed.
Work always worked.
He checked his emails.
Twenty-seven unread messages.
He opened the first.
Read it.
Then realised he hadn't understood a word.
He read it again.
Still nothing.
He frowned.
Closed it.
Opened a financial report.
His eyes moved across the numbers.
His mind wasn't there.
He leaned back.
Closed his eyes.
And immediately saw her.
Pragya.
Her hazel eyes.
Her smile.
Her voice.
Her ridiculous arguments.
Her teasing.
Her expression when she had challenged him about his black clothes.
Then—
her tears.
His eyes opened.
He stared at the ceiling.
"Why am I thinking about this?"
He stood.
Walked toward the window.
Chennai stretched endlessly beneath him.
Normally, the city at night calmed him.
Tonight, it didn't.
He remembered Pragya saying,
"I remember watching her."
He remembered the sadness in her voice.
The tear.
The way Alekhyo had immediately understood what she needed.
His jaw tightened.
Alekhyo.
Again.
Why did that name irritate him?
He didn't even know the man.
He had met him only today.
And yet the thought of Pragya sitting beside him in that cab—
smiling—
laughing—
made something uncomfortable twist inside him.
He clenched his jaw.
"Ridiculous."
Ethan tried to return to work.
He failed.
He opened another document.
Nothing.
He checked his phone.
No important messages.
He put it down.
Five minutes later, he picked it up again.
Nothing.
He sighed.
Then he laughed bitterly at himself.
"What is happening?"
He had handled negotiations worth millions without losing sleep.
He had walked into hostile meetings without hesitation.
He had terrified entire rooms of executives simply by entering them.
Yet one twenty-two-year-old girl had somehow managed to occupy his thoughts for an entire evening.
And he didn't understand why.
He remembered her laugh.
Her hazel eyes.
The way she argued.
The way she cared about everyone around her.
The way she had spoken about her father.
Her brother.
Her friends.
Her mother.
He remembered how her entire face had changed when she talked about books.
And then he remembered Alekhyo.
The way he had looked at her.
The way he had cared for her.
The way he had made her laugh after she cried.
Ethan's expression darkened.
He didn't like that.
Not at all.
He didn't know what the feeling was.
He didn't know why it existed.
He didn't know why it mattered.
He only knew—
he didn't like Pragya being with Alekhyo.
Ethan sat on the edge of his bed.
He rubbed his forehead.
"She's just a girl I know."
That should have settled it.
It didn't.
"She's irritating."
Still nothing.
"She argues with me."
Nothing.
"She gets on my nerves."
Nothing.
He paused.
Then quietly admitted,
"But..."
He stopped.
There was no logical explanation.
He closed his eyes.
And there she was again.
Those hazel eyes.
That infectious laugh.
That stubborn smile.
He opened his eyes immediately.
Sleep was nowhere near him.
Across the city, Alekhyo was lying on his hostel bed.
The room was quiet.
His roommate was already asleep.
The corridor outside had finally fallen silent.
Alekhyo stared at the ceiling.
He thought about the day.
The lunch.
The conversations.
Pragya's stories.
Her laughter.
The moment she had cried.
His expression softened.
He wished he could have taken that pain away.
But he knew he couldn't.
No one could rewrite her childhood.
No one could bring her mother back.
No one could erase the years of missing her.
But he could do something.
He could be there.
He could listen.
He could remind her to eat.
He could make her laugh.
He could stand beside her when life became difficult.
And most importantly—
he could respect her.
Alekhyo smiled faintly.
"I'm going to protect that smile."
He knew it sounded dramatic.
But he meant it.
Not because Pragya belonged to him.
She didn't.
She never would unless she chose him.
Her happiness was hers.
Her decisions were hers.
Her dreams were hers.
He would never try to control them.
He would never ask her to give up anything for him.
He would never make her feel guilty if she didn't return his feelings.
He would tell her the truth.
Then let her decide.
His thoughts moved toward next month.
Pragya's birthday.
He and Bristi had already discussed it.
Anubhab knew.
There would be no giant public confession.
No embarrassing spectacle.
No pressure.
Just him.
And her.
And the truth.
He would tell her that somewhere along the way, friendship had become something deeper for him.
That he loved her.
That he admired her.
That he wanted to be part of her life.
But then—
he would give her the freedom to choose.
If she said yes—
he would try his best to become the boyfriend she deserved.
Not someone who controlled her.
Not someone who restricted her dreams.
Not someone who demanded all her time.
Someone who supported her.
Someone who encouraged her.
Someone who celebrated every achievement.
Someone who understood that her father, brother, friends, and dreams would always remain important.
Someone who would never ask her to become less of herself for him.
And if she said no?
It would hurt.
He knew that.
Perhaps more than anything he had ever experienced.
But he would accept it.
If she wanted him only as a friend, he would remain her friend.
He would give himself time.
He would eventually try to move on.
Because loving someone meant respecting their happiness even when that happiness didn't include you in the way you wanted.
Alekhyo closed his eyes.
"Whatever you choose..."
He smiled softly.
"I'll respect it."
Two men across Chennai remained awake.
One understood his feelings completely.
The other didn't understand his at all.
Alekhyo knew he loved Pragya.
He knew what he wanted.
He knew what he feared.
And he knew he would respect her decision.
Ethan knew none of that.
He didn't know why her laughter stayed inside his head.
He didn't know why her tears had affected him so deeply.
He didn't know why her hazel eyes appeared every time he closed his own.
He didn't know why seeing Alekhyo beside her made his mood darken.
He didn't know why he wanted to understand her.
He didn't know why he wanted to hear her laugh again.
He didn't know why he was already wondering when he would see her next.
He simply knew that something had changed.
Something he couldn't name.
Something he couldn't control.
And something he certainly wasn't ready to acknowledge.
Meanwhile, completely unaware of the emotional storms developing around her, Pragya slept peacefully in her hostel room.
Her book lay beside her pillow.
Her phone was charging on the table.
Tomorrow she would wake up late again.
She would rush through breakfast.
Alekhyo would probably lecture her about sleeping on time.
Classes would begin.
Research would continue.
Life would go on.
She had absolutely no idea that two very different men had gone to sleep thinking about her for entirely different reasons.
One was already planning how to confess his heart.
The other was lying awake, trying desperately to understand why her existence had suddenly become impossible to ignore.
And neither of them knew what the future had in store.
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