In Time, I Will

*chowk- intersection

I wanted to ask why Adil had even bothered to come, but I didn’t want Charun to think there was any trouble between us. “I’ll get off at the chowk. I’m on the bus, so come pick me up from there,” I said and hung up.

“Is he the one you’ll marry?” Charun asked, his eyes fixed on the floor as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“Arman told you, didn’t he?” I said, more as a statement than a question. He nodded, a silent confirmation. I decided to stay quiet, letting the silence imply ambiguity. If Charun harbored feelings for me, perhaps this would help him move past them. But he wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Is he?” he asked again, this time meeting my eyes with a searching gaze.

I turned back to the window, watching the city blur past. “It’s not set in stone. We’ve only met once. We need to get to know each other before making any decisions.”

The conversation fell into another silence, one that felt heavier with unspoken words. My stop was approaching, and I rose from my seat. “He’s coming to pick me up. Want a ride?” I offered, half-hoping he would say no.

He shook his head. I stepped off the bus and stood by the side of the road, watching as it pulled away. But then, unexpectedly, it stopped about 50 meters down. Charun jumped off and ran toward me, his strides quick and determined. When he reached me, he was remarkably composed, not even out of breath.

“I want a ride home,” he said with a grin that tried to mask something deeper.

I laughed, surprised. “That’s my home, you idiot.”

“Your presence makes me feel at home,” he replied, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that stilled the air between us.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his earnestness. “Oh, look at this kid. What about the 18 years you lived without me? Were you wandering the streets then?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Ma'am, stop getting ahead of yourself,” Charun said, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I said you feel like home. I never said you are home. If home is an Adidas shoe, you’re just a knockoff.” He scoffed lightly, his teasing tone laced with mischief.

“You're getting too bold,” I said, feeling my patience fray at the edges. “I hope you don’t forget that our relationship is that of a student and teacher.”

His smirk faded, replaced by an expression that was almost pained. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice carrying a trace of bitterness.

A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. Had I been too harsh? I reached out, intending to pat his head in a gesture of reassurance. But before I could, he caught my hand mid-air. His fingers curled around mine—not with force, but with an unexpected gentleness that made the breath catch in my throat. His eyes, dark and searching, held a sadness I hadn’t seen before. He shook his head slowly, the silent plea in his gaze clear: Don’t comfort me.

The moment stretched between us, charged with something unspoken. Just as I was about to pull my hand away, a sharp honk cut through the silence, startling both of us. A car rolled up beside us, and the window lowered to reveal Adil, his smile bright and welcoming.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

For a moment, I stared at him, puzzled. The contrast between his demeanor now and the fierce, almost primal anger he had shown the other day was jarring. A ridiculous thought flitted through my mind—what if he was here to kidnap me? But I pushed it aside and forced a smile.

“Yes, but is it fine if we take him along?” I pointed to Charun, who stood a few paces behind me, watching with wary eyes.

Adil’s gaze flickered between us, searching for an explanation. I offered none, letting my silence tease the situation out. Finally, Adil’s lips curled up in a grin. “Sure,” he said, turning to Charun. “You are?”