CANVAS OF COURAGE [Ongoing]

●22●

Arya leaned back in her armchair, crossing her arms and settling into the role of storyteller. "Oh, it was easy," she began, her voice brimming with playful smugness. "One day, I was coming back from college, and I saw you outside Dr. Rai's clinic. You were all dressed up—tailored shirt, polished shoes, and hair gelled to perfection like you were auditioning for a lead role in a romantic movie. Naturally, I assumed something serious had happened.so I almost felt bad for you."

She paused dramatically, letting Eshan squirm under her gaze.

"But then I thought—who goes to therapy dressed like they're headed to a date? So, like any good citizen concerned about her elder brother well-being, I did a little digging. Turns out, you're not seeing the psychiatrist. You're just lurking around there, trying to woo her!"

Siddharth slapped his thigh, doubling over with laughter. "Eshan, you legend! 'Mandir visits,' really? I knew you weren't exactly going for a mandir and all. At this point, I'm expecting you to announce your next date location as the dentist's office.""

Eshan groaned, slumping back against the coffee table. "Can we please focus on Siddharth's mess of a love life instead?" he muttered, but his flushed cheeks gave away his embarrassment.

Arya chuckled, brushing invisible dust off her lap. "Oh no, Eshan bhai, your plotline is far too entertaining to let go. Next time, at least pick an excuse that's slightly more believable. 'Mandir visits? Really? Even a B-grade scriptwriter could do better!"

Siddharth, still chuckling, raised his coffee mug in a mock toast. "Here's to Eshan, the man who proved that even therapy can be romantic—when done wrong!"

Arya, sitting on chair with her one leg now rested upon Siddarth lap and her ching in her hand as through deep in thoughts, her expression turned comically serious, the kind that would make even a high court judge feel underdressed. Tilting her head slightly, her earrings caught the dim light, adding a playful glint to her dramatic pose. "You know, Bhai," she began with the measured tone of someone delivering a life-altering verdict, " lets came back to your love life now, as we're on the topic of romance and bad ideas—when are you planning to seriously propose to Sanvi? Make her my sister-in-law already!"

Siddharth, caught mid-motion trying to place his empty coffee cup on the table, froze as if someone had just yelled "Statue!" at him. His hand hovered awkwardly mid-air, his eyes wide in surprise. As Arya's words sank in, he hastily placed the cup back on the armrest instead, running his hand through his hair in a feeble attempt to mask his nervousness. "I-I don't know if I even love her like that," he stammered, his fingers tapping on the armrest like they had suddenly developed stage fright.

(Author note: he is such a Lier isn't he.)

Eshan, lying sprawled on the carpet with his arms folded behind his head, sprang upright with the kind of energy reserved for soap opera revelations. "WHAT?!" he bellowed, throwing his arms out like he was directing traffic in the middle of a Bollywood car chase. "Have you ever seen yourself around her? Forget fifth graders—even a mosquito flying in the same room could tell you're hopelessly in love! You're about as subtle as a fire alarm going off in the middle of a funeral."

Arya burst out laughing, her leg on Siddharth's lap jiggling slightly as she clutched her stomach. "Eshan's bhai right! bhai, the way you look at her is so painfully obvious—it's like a slow-motion scene with wind blowing dramatically through your hair. Except the soundtrack is missing, and you're standing there like a clueless extra in your own love story."

Siddharth groaned, his hand halfway toward the coffee table once again as he tried—unsuccessfully—to finish the simple act of setting down his mug. He pulled it back to his lap with a resigned sigh. "You two are impossible," he muttered, the tips of his ears turning red as he avoided their mischievous gazes. "For the record, I have no idea what you're talking about."