Priya's POV [Priya's second Saturday Off]
I woke up without the alarm. For a moment, I lie still on the mattress, wrapped in the soft hum of Bangalore's early morning. A faint breeze dances through the window. It flutters the pale blue curtain, casting moving shadows on the wall. My eyes drift there for a few seconds, tracing the light.
I sit up slowly, stretching my arms above my head. My body still carries the fatigue of the week—presentations, meetings but today is mine. I get up and walk into the kitchen. The tiles are cold but grounding.
I make chai. Strong, with cardamom and I carry my mug to the little balcony, letting the steam swirl into the warm weekend air.
From here, the city feels different, not loud or fast. A few early risers walk by with their dogs. A vendor cycles past with bananas in his basket.
Taking a sip I let the taste of my chai clear my thoughts, when I hear a voice from my right.
"Neenu hosa hudugi-aa? (Are you the new girl?)" a woman calls out in Kannada.
I turn right. A woman in her early forties, jasmine flowers tucked into her braid, is leaning on her balcony grill with warm eyes and curious smile.
I blink. "S–sorry?"
She switches, searching for words. "You... new here?"
I nod quickly and show her my two finger's. "Yes. Just... two weeks."
She brightens. "Ah! New only. I am Savitha. Your neighbor."
"I'm Priya." I give a small, awkward smile. "Nice to meet you."
She laughs softly, hearing my accent. "Kannada... little problem?"
"Big problem," I admit, embarrassed.
"It's okay, I help you, I speak little-little English," she says, reassuring. "You from...?"
"Jharkhand," I say. "Ranchi."
She nods like that explains everything. "Good, good." Then she looks at my bare balcony and clicks her tongue. "You keep flower pots here. Feels good, Mind happy."
She taps her temple. "Work stress—plants help."
I can't help smiling. "I was thinking about it too."
"I have extra money plant, tulsi. I give you, no problem." She waves off my surprised look. "You take."
"Thank you... really."
She leans a little closer, conspiratorial. "I have two kids. Boy—fourteen. Girl—nine. Full-time circus." She laughs.
"If any problem, you call me. Or knock. Okay?"
Something loosens in my chest. "Okay."
She lifts her steel tumbler in a mock toast. "Welcome, Priya."
I raise my chai back. "Thank you, Savitha akka."
She grins at the 'akka'. "See? Kannada coming."
When she disappears back inside, I'm still smiling. The balcony doesn't feel so empty anymore.
I step back into my room, the smell of chai still clinging softly to my clothes. The sunlight has fully claimed the space now, stretching lazily across the bed and pooling at my feet. I glance around the neatly tucked bed, the curtain swaying faintly, the wardrobe standing firm in its corner.
It's only my second weekend here but already, it feels better than the first one. That weekend was all about cleaning, scrubbing the dusty corners. I had spent the whole Saturday just making the space livable, and Sunday had passed in laundry, unpacking.
Now, it's different. There's still so much to take care of, but it doesn't feel overwhelming anymore.
It's hard to believe this is the same room from my first weekend here.
I tie my hair up in a loose bun and walk to the small kitchen to make my breakfast.
[Author's POV]
(Aarav's room at night)
He saw her... she's standing in his room, glowing. Draped in a deep red saree that hugs her curves like it was stitched by desire itself. Her long hair flows down in soft waves, her maang tikka catching the light. Her lips, those familiar, infuriating, plump lips glossed and slightly parted. She looks... like a bride, his bride. For a second he forgot to breathe.
The room is quiet, dimly lit. She doesn't say a word, she just looks at him. Not shy, not bold. Just... there. As if she belongs. His steps are slow as he walks toward her. His hand lifts on its own, trailing gently along the silk of her saree until it reaches her bare waist. Warm and soft. She doesn't flinch.
Her eyes hold his, and he's not sure if his heart is racing or stopping. His gaze drops to her lips, God.
He slowly leans in, one hand resting on her waist, the other brushing her cheek. Her breath warms his. His eyes flutter shut, lips just inches from hers...
Just then he hears, Knock. Knock.
He froze. His lips hover, not touching.
"Who's knocking?" he whispered, eyes still closed. "Priya...?"
She giggles. "Open your eyes and see," he frowned.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Louder now.
Her voice begins to fade.
"Open your eyes, Aarav..."
Knock-Knock-KNOCK.
And just like that he jolted upright in bed.
[Aarav's room during the day]
[Aarav's POV]
My heart pounds, sweat clings to my back. The morning light is filtering through the curtains, far too bright for what just felt like night. The door knocks again real this time.
"Aarav beta!" Ma's voice. "Get up."
I run a hand over my face, still caught between dream and reality.
My shirt clings to my chest. My breaths are shallow. And....Shit. I toss the blanket off and saw my buddy hard "FUCK" I sit at the edge of the bed and started staring at the floor like it holds the answers.
Was that a wet dream? No. No way.
But the evidence is clear. The heat, the ache, the damn wetness sticking to my skin like guilt.
What the hell was that? It was just a dream, just a stupid dream but it felt too real.
The way she looked... like a bride standing in my room. Letting me touch her, letting me lean in, almost kiss her like she—
I clench my jaw.
Stop.
She's a new intern, a fresher. So what if we bumped into each other once? So what if she looked at me like she'd seen a ghost the other day? That doesn't mean I should be dreaming about her like... that.
What's wrong with me?
I rub my hands over my face again, harder this time, like I can scrub the guilt off.
She's so young. I shouldn't be thinking about her like this. I've always kept things clean, professional. Always. And now? One moment of eye contact and my brain decides to go full Bollywood-fantasy-on-steroids?
I take a deep breath, then another.
"It was just a dream," I tell myself.
Except my body clearly didn't think so.
And the worst part is, I liked it. I liked how close she felt. How warm. How right. I shake my head. This is messed up.
"Get up, Aarav!" Ma calls again. "Breakfast is getting cold!"
I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. "Coming , Ma!"
But even as I stand and grab a towel to clean up, the dream lingers like perfume in the air sweet, wrong, and completely unforgettable.
[Author's POV]
Aarav descended the staircases slowly, his mind still tangled in the haze of sleep and the remnants of an all-too-vivid dream. Dressed in a white t-shirt and grey lounge pants, he looked casual, comfortable but far from relaxed. His feet moved on instinct, but his thoughts refused to quiet.
The house is calm, wrapped in the warm aroma of ghee, curry leaves, and fresh filter and black coffee.
In the dining room, sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains, pooling golden light across the long teakwood table. His mother was at the sideboard, arranging a tray of hot dosas, while his father sat at the head of the table, immersed in the newspaper.
"Good morning," Aarav said, his voice gruffer than usual as he pulled out a chair. His mother turned, smiling warmly. "Good morning, beta."
His father acknowledged him with a curt, "Morning," barely glancing up from the headlines.
The maid stepped forward and placed a steaming plate in front of Aarav. Crisp dosas folded neatly, coconut chutney with the right tempering, and a small bowl of sambar. He was just lifting the first piece when his father lowered his paper, fixing him with a look.
"Why did you wake up so late today? You never sleep like this."
The question hit harder than intended. Aarav froze for a beat, not by the question, but by the memory it summoned. The red saree. Her bare waist. Her lips.
He choked.
The cough came out of nowhere, sudden and sharp, as he dropped the piece of dosa back onto his plate. His body tensed, eyes watering, and he struggled to breathe between sputtering gasps.
His mother rushed to his side. "Aarav! Are you alright?" she asked, placing a firm hand on his back and reaching for the water jug. She poured a glass and handed it to him quickly.
He drank in hurried gulps, still coughing. "I'm fine," he said between breaths, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "It just... went down the wrong way."
His father raised a brow.
Aarav offered a tight smile and a shake of his head. "Maybe I'm just more tired than I thought." But inside, his thoughts ran wild.
He kept his gaze fixed on the plate, hoping the dosa would distract him from the heat still curling in his gut.
On the other hand, just as Aarav was choking on his dosa, Priya was standing near her little gas stove, trying to flip an oddly shaped paratha when a sudden hic! escaped her lips.
She paused, blinked. Then another one followed. Hic! Hic!
"Oh no," she muttered, dropping the spatula and reaching for her steel glass of water.
She took one long sip, held her breath for five seconds and released. Silence.
Hic!
"Oh God...." she groaned, clutching her stomach.
She paced around her tiny kitchen, then moved to the balcony hopping fresh air would help. The hiccups refused to leave.
That's when she remembered something her mother used to say whenever this happened.
"If someone is thinking about you with their heart, then you get hiccups."
A soft smile tugged at Priya's lips.
"Maa," she whispered.
She hadn't called since Thursday night, and now it is Sunday morning. Maybe her mother is truly thinking of her.
Still hiccupping, she walked to the table and picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over the contact labeled "Maa ❤️."
Hic!
"Okay okay! I'm calling, I'm calling," she murmured to the hiccup fairy, and hit the green button. The line rang once... twice...
The line clicks, and she hears the familiar rustle of her saree and the background hum of our old pedestal fan.
"Hello?"
Her voice. Soft, alert. Just hearing it makes my chest tighten.
"Maa..." she says, a little breathless from the hiccups, "you are thinking about me, aren't you?" There's a pause.
"Are you having hiccups?" she asks, already knowing.
"Non-stop," hic! she groaned, rubbing her chest. "I drank water, held my breath, even stared at the wall like a fool. Nothing worked."
She laughs, a little breathy chuckle. "you remember it all."
"Of course I do," she whispered. "You are missing me, right? That's why."
There's a beat of silence. Then—
"Me? Why would I miss you?" she says, pretending innocence. "I don't even remember where you went."
Priya smiles, letting her tease play out.
"Maa..." she dragged the word like a warning.
"I mean I did miss you," she finally admits, "but not so much that you'd start hiccupping like this. just a little bit."
Priya laughed. It's the first real laugh she had since she moved. "Just a little? Then I will drown in hiccups everyday."
We both fall quiet for a moment. "Are you okay?" she asks softly.
I nod, even though she can't see. "Yes, Everything is fine. The house is also in order. I decorated it a bit...And I also decided to put some plants on the balcony too."
She hums in approval. "Good. Slowly it will become like home."
"what were you doing?" I ask.
"I am in the kitchen. Your father was shouting since morning—'Where is the tea! Where is the tea!' as if I am his servant."
I chuckle again, imagining the scene clearly.
"I love you, Maa," I say suddenly, voice a little shaky. "And I don't love you at all," she teases, but I can hear the softness behind it.
As Priya and her mother talked, a gentle warmth crept into her chest, the kind that only a call from home could bring. Her mother was telling her about the turmeric plants blooming on the veranda, and Priya imagined the little yellow flowers stretching toward the sun. For a brief moment, she could almost smell the damp mud after watering.
Then, a voice interrupted. A deep, stern one.
"Who's on the phone?" her father asked from somewhere in the background.
Priya froze.
Her mother's reply came after a second of hesitation. "My sister." She lied.
There was silence for a moment. Then her father's voice came again lower, but still loud enough for Priya to hear.
Her mother didn't respond to him. Instead, she returned to Priya, her voice a little more rushed now.
"Okay, take care of yourself. We'll talk again soon."
Priya opened her mouth to say something else but her mother added quickly, "I have to go now. Your Papa's calling me. Bye, beta."
And the line went dead.
Priya stared at the phone screen, the sudden silence louder than the words that had just been exchanged. Just as Priya placed the phone down and leaned back against the wall, a sharp hiccup burst out of her.
She blinked.
Then came another. Her head dropped back in pure exasperation.
"Seriously?" she muttered to herself, pressing her palm flat against her chest as if that could stop it. "Again?"
She reached for her water bottle and took a long gulp, hoping the hiccups would vanish just as suddenly as they'd returned. But they didn't. They kept coming, annoyingly persistent like the universe wasn't quite finished teasing her yet.
Priya let out a groan. "Ughhh... why now?"
She stood up abruptly and walked toward the kitchen, pacing a little in frustration. Her eyes narrowed as the hiccups refused to relent, and she glared at the ceiling like it was personally responsible.
It isn't just hiccups anymore, it has become irritation now. First the call had ended too soon, and now this. Her body and emotions were both spiraling, and she had no clue which one to deal with first.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, clutching the glass in both hands, and whispered to herself, "This better not be some cosmic punishment for ignoring that weird dream boy last night..."
Another hiccup.
Priya sighed again.
But what she didn't know and wouldn't have believed even if someone told her that the reason for her hiccups had nothing to do with the universe...😏
It had everything to do with a certain man named Aarav.🤭
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To be Continued........
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