Chapter - 23 Your Heartbeat
🦋
Author pov --
Kritika blinked. “Dr. Ayaan?!”
Ayaan blinked back, jaw slightly open. And for a moment just a moment he forgot where he was, why he was there, even what year it was.
Kritika stood in front of him, dressed in a vibrant Pink lehenga, jhumkas swaying gently, eyes lined with kohl, looking like she’d walked straight out of heaven.
Ayaan’s brain? Offline.
Heart? On overdrive.
Kritika frowned, confused. “You okay?”
He blinked again, snapping back to reality. “Yeah… yeah, just… didn’t expect to see you here.”
She folded her arms, one eyebrow raised. “I should be asking you that, Dr. Ayaan. What are you doing here?”
Ayaan crossed his arms, smirking slightly. “I could ask you the same, Miss Sharma. If I’m not wrong… you have an exam in three days?”
Kritika rolled her eyes. “Oh god, don’t start with the lecture. I’m already regretting bumping into you.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No lecture. Just surprised to see my ‘rebellious topper’ crashing a wedding.”
She tilted her head. “You mean beautiful topper in a lehenga?”
Ayaan looked at her, half-smiling. “I didn’t say that… but I’m not denying it either.”
Kritika blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his tone. “Wait… are you—are you complimenting me?”
He smirked again, looking away for a second. “I think I am.”
Awkward pause.
Kritika tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… whose wedding is this?”
Ayaan replied, “Old college friend. He insisted I come.”
“Hmm. Raghav insisted we come. As content,” she said, mimicking air quotes.
Ayaan’s brow lifted. “You gatecrashed for YouTube?”
She shrugged. “Also free food. But mostly drama.”
Ayaan laughed. “You really are trouble.”
Kritika grinned. “And you really enjoy it more than you admit.”
He didn’t reply but the look in his eyes said everything.
Background: Lights twinkled, music thumped faintly, Aryan’s distant shouts could be heard (something about laddoos and love at first sight), but in that little corner of the wedding…
Ayaan Malhotra was falling. Hard.
And this time, he knew it.
Just as Kritika and Ayaan shared that oddly soft moment, a loudspeaker crackled through the wedding lawn.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, time for a surprise duo game! Winners get a special gift from the bride herself!”
Kritika’s eyes lit up. “Oooh! That sounds fun! I’m playing!”
She turned around only to remember her group had vanished.
Jenny and Archu were clicking selfies, Raghav was vlogging mid-laddoo-bite, Aryan was God knows where (probably proposing someone’s chachi), and Arjun had been kidnapped by uncles.
She looked back at Ayaan with mischief.
“No. No no no,” Ayaan backed away, palms up. “Don’t even think about it.”
Kritika grinned. “Oh come on, Malhotra. Live a little.”
“Kritika, this is not—”
She didn’t wait. Grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the game area. Ayaan followed helplessly, muttering something about karma and disasters.
They reached the stage where couples were lining up, giggling, whispering.
Host smiled. “Welcome! Last-minute entry? Brave!”
Kritika smiled proudly. “Always.”
The host handed them a folded paper. “Rules are simple. Place this on the floor. Dance on it. Every thirty seconds, the paper will be folded smaller. Touch the ground? You’re out. Last couple standing wins!”
Kritika’s jaw dropped. “Wait. What kind of game is this?!”
Ayaan blinked. “You brought me here without knowing?”
They both looked at the paper. Looked at each other. Then the “COUPLE GAME” banner above the stage.
“Oh, no,” Kritika muttered.
“Oh, yes,” Ayaan smirked.
The host clapped. “Positions, everyone!”
Kritika gulped. “We… we can’t back out now?”
Ayaan sighed. “Well, you dragged me here. Let’s dance.”
---
Round One:
They both awkwardly stepped on the paper. Enough space. Kritika moved her shoulders with a beat, smirking.
Ayaan tried to match, unsure where to keep his hands. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
“Relax. Pretend it’s Zumba,” Kritika teased.
---
Round Two:
Paper folded in half.
Now they were closer. Kritika's hands rested on his shoulders. Ayaan’s hands found her waist hesitant at first, then settled there.
“You’re stiff,” she whispered.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” he replied.
---
Round Three:
Paper smaller.
Their bodies closer.
Breaths mingling. Music felt slow now. The laughter around them blurred.
Kritika looked up, eyes wide and twinkling.
“You’re actually good at this.”
Ayaan smirked, voice low. “Medical college mein dancing lessons bhi hoti hain?”
“Only for special students,” she replied.
He chuckled.
---
Round Four:
Now there was barely space. Kritika’s arms wrapped around his neck for balance. Ayaan held her tightly by the waist. Faces inches apart. Heartbeats louder than the music.
Neither said anything now.
Eyes locked.
Everything else vanished.
Kritika’s breath hitched.
Ayaan whispered, “Still think dragging me was a good idea?”
She smiled softly. “Best decision ever.”
---
Round Five:
Paper now just a square.
Kritika slipped slightly.
Ayaan caught her.
And for a second just a second it felt like he didn’t want to let go.
Host yelled, “We have our winners!”
Crowd clapped.
But Ayaan and Kritika?
They didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Lost.
Somewhere between laughter and a dance step.
🦋🦋🦋
The host clapped enthusiastically, handing them a sparkling golden gift box.
“Congratulations to the winners of our Couple Dance Game Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra!”
Kritika blinked.
Ayaan froze.
“Wait, what—” Kritika started, looking up in pure panic. “I’m not-- We’re not—”
But no one was listening.
People from the wedding crowd began clapping louder, someone threw flower petals, and before she could breathe, an aunty came forward and kissed her cheek. “Aww, such a lovely couple! Nazar na lage.”
Another uncle laughed. “Beta, Malhotra ji, kya baat hai! Rab ne bana di jodi!”
Kritika’s mouth opened to protest again, but—
“Thank you, thank you so much!”
She turned.
Ayaan.
Smiling.
Nodding.
Soaking in every blessing like a groom at his own shaadi.
“Ayaan?!”
He leaned closer and whispered, “They already think we’re a couple. I’m just being polite.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Absolutely.”
“Mr. Malhotra!” another aunty called from behind, dragging her daughter forward. “I heard you are a doctor, My niece is also a doctor- single, very sanskaari—”
“Oh, sorry,” Kritika cut in with a fake smile, “Mrs. Malhotra here.”
Ayaan looked at her, surprised.
Then smirked. “Now who’s enjoying it?”
“shut up! Don’t get used to it,” she mumbled, pulling him away.
But deep inside…
Somewhere between the petals and the laughter…
She couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging at her lips.
And he?
He was already lost.
Somewhere between her lehenga, her arms around his neck,
… and the sound of her saying Mrs. Malhotra.
🦋🦋🦋
As they finally escaped the crowd and reached the quieter lawn area, Kritika let out a dramatic sigh.
“Oh. My. God. What was that!?” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra?! Are you serious!?”
Ayaan chuckled, his hands in his pockets. “I told you not to drag me in.”
“You didn’t exactly resist like a gentleman.”
“I was being polite,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“To blessings? You looked like you were about to hand out wedding cards!”
He smirked. “I’m very supportive.”
She rolled her eyes, then suddenly clutched her stomach. “Ughh… all that dancing and stress. I’m hungry again.”
Ayaan blinked. “Didn’t you eat enough already? You literally raided the dessert table before the game.”
Kritika shrugged. “That was a pre-dance snack. Now I need post-trauma food.”
Before he could reply, she pointed dramatically at a small pani puri stall near the gate.
“There. That. I need that.”
Ayaan followed her gaze. “Pani puri?”
( I don't know how to explain what is pani puri 😭, if any you don't know what is it please google)
She was already dragging him. “Come on, you’re eating with me.”
“I’m not really a pani puri person—”
She stopped in her tracks and turned, eyes narrowed. “Did you just say not a pani puri person?”
He raised his hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll eat.”
Good boy.
They reached the counter and Kritika’s eyes sparkled.
Then the evil idea struck.
She turned to him with a grin that made him nervous. “Let’s make this interesting.”
“Oh no,” Ayaan said instantly.
“Pani Puri Challenge,” she announced. “You vs me. Let’s see who can eat more in one minute.”
He looked at her like she was insane. “You want to race while eating pani puri?”
“Scared you’ll lose, Mr. Malhotra?”
That did it.
He folded his sleeves. “Game on, Sharma.”
The vendor stared at them, clearly amused as he began prepping two rows.
Kritika tied her hair back like a warrior going to battle.
“Ready?” she said.
“Always,” Ayaan smirked.
And boom timer started.
Both of them grabbed puris like their lives depended on it. Crunch. Splash. Chomp.
Kritika was aggressive. Fast. Ruthless.
Ayaan tried to keep up, his eyes watering from the spice, nose slightly red, but he didn’t back down.
Halfway through, he paused. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Less talking, more chewing!”
Their mouths were stuffed, hands flying, water dripping it was chaos.
Kritika (grinning): "Bhaiya, what are you doing? Make it extra spicy... and give it to him!"She pointed proudly at Ayaan
Ayaan looked up, alarmed.
"Wait, what?! No, no.. mine's fine! Normal spice, please!"
Kritika burst into laughter.
"Seriously? You’re a doctor and can’t handle a little spice?"
one day you’re going to be the death of me!" Ayaan Said middle of the bite.
People around had started watching. Cheering. Laughing.
Random uncle: “Beta, thoda sambhal ke. Biwi jeet gayi toh khana band kar degi!”
Ayaan coughed. Kritika laughed mid-bite.
Buzzer. Time up.
They both gasped, holding their stomachs.
Kritika: “So… how many?”
Ayaan: “11 and a half. You?”
Kritika wiped her mouth with the back of her hand like a champ. “17.”
Ayaan stared. “Are you human?”
She winked. “Nope. I’m hungry.”
Still catching their breath, Ayaan leaned against the side of the counter, watching Kritika as she proudly declared, “17 pani puris! I win, loser!”
He shook his head with a half-smile. “I think you cheated. That fifteenth one mysteriously disappeared too fast.”
Kritika gasped dramatically. “How dare you question my pani puri honor, Dr. Malhotra?”
“I’m just saying… maybe I need a rematch. With CCTV evidence,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes and turned to the vendor. “Bhaiya, ek aur plate. For the sore loser.”
As she turned back to hand him the plate, he paused, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“You’ve got chutney on your nose.”
“Again?” she groaned, trying to wipe it off.
“Wait, here,” he said, stepping forward.
But instead of wiping it gently like a hero from some cheesy movie, he awkwardly tapped her nose with a tissue… and missed.
She blinked. “You literally poked my eye.”
“Oops,” he said, grinning. “Doctor hoon, surgeon nahi.”
(I am a doctor not a surgeon)
Kritika couldn’t help but laugh, her nose scrunching. “Good to know. Remind me to never faint around you.”
“Noted. I’ll just offer pani puri as CPR.”
She snorted. “You’re impossible.”
He leaned in just a little, lowering his voice. “And yet… you still dragged me into a couple dance. Sharma, you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”
She raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a playful smirk. “Neither are you, Malhotra.”
And just then—
As Ayaan and Kritika laughed at the pani puri stall, the moment was shattered by a familiar loud voice.
“Kritikaaaa! Bhaag le! We’ve been caught!”
Aryan came sprinting towards them, sherwani flying, face pale, eyes wild.
Kritika blinked. “What? What do you mean—?”
“They found out!” he yelled. “Some uncle saw us sneaking gulab jamuns into Archu’s clutch. They’re chasing me! They know we don’t belong!”
“What the—” Kritika spun around just in time to see two furious uncles storming toward them. Behind them, a breathless Arjun ran with a helpless expression.
“I didn’t even DO anything!” Arjun shouted. “Why am I being chased?!”
Kritika turned back to Ayaan, wide-eyed. “Sorry, Dr. Malhotra. Emergency.”
And then she pointed a finger at him with a grin. “But never forget you’re a pani puri loser!”
With that, she bolted after Aryan and Arjun, her lehenga flying, laughter trailing behind her.
Ayaan just stood there, half-confused, half-impressed. “What just happened?”
🦋🦋🦋
The group regrouped under the iconic lights of the Sea Link, out of breath and dying of laughter.
“That... was insane,” Jenny wheezed, holding her stomach.
Aryan bent over, laughing. “You guys... that uncle literally tried to grab my ear like I’m ten!”
“Serves you right,” Archu huffed, adjusting her dupatta. “Who told you to sneak food into my bag?!”
“Best part,” Aryan said, pointing at Arjun, “that uncle’s daughter was staring at him like he’s a Bollywood hero. Pretty sure she fell in love mid-dance.”
Arjun groaned. “I don’t even know who she was! Why is this my life?!”
Raghav, still vlogging, added, “I’m calling this vlog ‘The Great Wedding Escape’.”
As everyone laughed and teased, Kritika stepped aside for a moment, catching her breath. The chaos buzzed around her—Aryan dramatically narrating their escape, Arjun grumbling, Jenny and Archu posing for selfies, Raghav still recording everything like a true vlogger.
But Kritika… her smile softened.
Her mind drifted back to that moment.
Just her and Ayaan. The music. His hand in hers. That unspoken connection in the middle of all the madness.
She smiled to herself quiet, dreamy, and maybe… just a little flustered.
And then, like always, Aryan’s voice snapped her out of it.
“Kritikaaa! Don’t daydream, we need to plan our next mission!”
She rolled her eyes but chuckled, hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks.
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Ayaan get to know a different side of kritika and also some secrets about her🤫
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