He paused for a second before handing me my phone to unlock. I dipped my chin, signaling him to type. He looked at me, and when I raised my brow, he shook his head.

After opening the phone, he tapped on the camera. I corrected my posture and gave him a pose. Twenty clicks later, I huffed, “Enough.”

He raised a brow. “Tired?”

I shook my head. “You must be bored…” I muttered.

“No,” he stated.

I made an ‘oh.’ “Are you a photographer? Side business types? Is Advani Co. in loss?” I teased, amused by his skill.

He shook his head. “Born talented.”

I furrowed my brows, signaling him to come closer. He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “Maybe… my phone’s camera is better.”

He shook his head, saying, “Thanks.” I laughed — the first laugh since being with him.

A knock on the door distracted us. I looked up. “Sorry to disturb you…” Mira’s soft voice floated in. “Dinner is ready, aunty is calling you both downstairs.”

She wasn’t loud or chaotic like me. Mira was simple, sweet.

We nodded and followed her down. After dinner with everyone, I hugged my mother one last time when departure came.

Her eyes were glassy as she wiped a tear from the corner. “Mom…” I said, shaking my head, silently asking her not to cry.

“We should enjoy the privacy now, Mrs. Deshmukh,” my father whispered in her ear. She lowered her gaze shyly.

Aww. I hugged them both. “I’ll call you once I reach.”

I sat inside the car beside him. He tugged his seatbelt, glanced at me. My eyes stayed on my lap, fingers fidgeting, trying not to cry. “Should I drive?” he asked. I nodded, and the engine hummed softly.

I looked out the window at the shining stars. One star near the moon glowed brighter than the rest. “Beautiful,” I murmured.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, my eyes caught sight of a familiar stall.

“Stop,” I said urgently, not even looking at him.

He slowed down, braking. “What happened?”

I took a breath. “I’m coming, just wait here, okay?” I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“There.” I pointed at the stall under the streetlight. The area wasn’t crowded or well-lit. He glanced once. “I’m coming too,” he said.

I gulped. “N-No need… I will—”

He interrupted. “I insist.”

I nodded, and he opened the door, circled the car, and came to my side.

We reached the stall. My smile stretched wider than usual. “Do you remember me, uncle?” I asked, excitement laced with familiarity.

His hands were busy squeezing lemon into glasses. He looked up, his grin mirroring mine. “Siya bitiya, aap ko kaise bhool sakte hai.”

“Achha… I thought you forgot.” He shook his head at my antics.

“Are you married?” he asked, surprised. I nodded, calming my happy hormones, and introduced him to Ekarth.

“Ekarth Advani… my hus—” The word died in my throat. It sounded foreign.

To my shock, he folded his hands. “Her husband,” he completed. Simple words, nothing extraordinary. But my heart betrayed me, hitching a beat when he said it.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palm, grounding myself. “Siya bitiya?” Uncle called my name.

I was lost. “You both look pretty together,” he complimented. I thanked him.

I forced a smile. “Two lemon jeera with mint.”

He nodded, adding salt and mint to the glasses.

“Siya…” Ekarth’s voice pulled me back. I raised a brow.

“I am allergic.”

I made an ‘oh’ instantly. “Uncle… leave it, sorry to bother.” My voice dropped. Ekarth scratched his neck. “Why don’t you drink?”

I shrugged. “How can I when you don’t?”

“No. You don’t need to change something according to me,” he said, slipping his hand into his pocket.

“It’s fine, Ekarth.” I tried to sound okay.

He shook his head. “I’m really allergic… if you want I can—”

This time I interrupted. “I trust you. I came to meet uncle… sorry, I didn’t know about your allergy.”

Uncle looked at us, then cleared his throat. “Siya… It’s okay. Come next time.”

I nodded, biting my lip. Lemon jeera was my favorite, especially uncle’s. But I couldn’t drink alone while Ekarth stood beside me, watching. I didn’t want him to feel anxious or left out.

“One normal water, please,” he said, taking the glass from uncle.

He dipped his chin toward the stool behind me. I sat, and he passed me the lemon jeera while drinking plain water himself.

My stomach flipped. He drank normal water just so I could enjoy my favorite.

I looked at the star again, feeling what it means to stay with the moon — even if it doesn’t promise to stay forever.

And I bet, I was smiling just as brightly as that star.

🥀