JAAN ( Darr 2 )

To see you just ...that

He raised a brow. "Interpretive?"

"Yes," she smirked. "That's the polite word. You're enthusiastic, I'll give you that."

There was something light in her tone, but not mocking. Something soft. Familiar. Like the part of her that used to laugh easily had been asleep a long time and was only now stirring.

He turned back to the earth, grinning despite himself. "Alright, madam botanist. Enlighten me."

She stood, dusting off her knees, then gestured broadly. "That side gets morning sun, so plant the strawberries there. And the lavender's too close to the basil. Give them space. They like their own air."

He followed her gaze, absorbing her rhythm, her certainty. She was in her element now. Not just in the science of plants, but in leading, shaping something. He liked seeing her like this, confident and dryly amused, quietly in control.

"What about this space?" he asked, gesturing to a patch he hadn't touched yet.

She walked past him, boots crunching softly on gravel. "That's perfect for lilies," she said. "Tiger lilies, maybe. Bold things. Like to surprise you."

He turned to look at her, and for a second, she met his gaze, and didn't look away.

The air between them went still. Not uncomfortable. Just *aware*.

After a moment, she shrugged and walked toward the toolshed. "Come on. I'll help you dig. You need supervision."

He smiled, brushing soil from his hands. "You just want to boss me around."

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes glinting in the warm light. "Would you mind?"

He didn't answer. She already knew.

Few days later they found themselves in the garden again and

It happened so suddenly that Rahul wasn't sure if he had imagined it.

They were arguing again, lightly, playfully, over whether pansies were overrated. She had laughed at him, teasing him for being sentimental, and he, with a mock frown and a garden trowel in hand, had stepped closer.

"You're impossible," he'd said.

"And you're hopeless."

He sighed, shook his head, then leaned in just a little and kissed her forehead. A quiet, lingering gesture. Not planned, not bold. Just... honest and because he couldn't help it when she looked so damn happy and relaxed.

she didn't move away.

Kiran tilted her face up to him. Met his gaze for a moment that held its breath. Then, without a word, she kissed him softly, completely her lips brushing his for the briefest second before she pulled back with a gasp of laughter, eyes wide and almost surprised at herself. And then she turned and bolted toward the cottage.

He stood there, stunned. For half a second. And then of course he followed her.

The next few days unfolded like some strange dream. Not all at once, not like the flood of emotion that had once drowned her life. No, this was different. Slower. Sweeter. They would laugh in the garden, toss bits of soil at each other like children, talk about wildflower placements as if it mattered more than anything else. 

And somewhere in between, she'd brush past him on purpose. He'd bump her shoulder lightly and call it an accident. 

And then, a kiss, on the cheek, the neck, her knuckles, or, when neither could pretend anymore, the lips. 

Always followed by one of them walking away too fast, blushing too hard, smiling too much.

It became a pattern. A rhythm.