Sweet 'n' Sour | ✔

twelve

12. Mere toh khwaab aur haqikat, dono hi khubsoorat hai. (My dreams as well as the reality, both are beautiful.)

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It's a universal fact that Aditya Shrivastava hates waking up early in the morning. Especially during the days he is supposed to relax. Like weekends, festivals, national holidays, and vacations. Then tell me why, I, the formerly mentioned Aditya Shrivastava, am dragging myself up uneven terrain, at five in the morning? To tell you the answer, it's because he is absolutely and irrevocably infatuated with his to-be wife. I think it's quite right when people say men change after they get married. I haven't even put on a ring yet she has me completely under her control. And she doesn't even know it.

"Water?" The reason for my beautiful sufferings offered.

I panted harshly, lips chapped, throat drier than Sahara and my oesophagus, spare me if I spelt the word wrong, was facing the hardships of a drought. To my misfortune, I'm a well-built man so my lack of physiological strength was being judged strongly. I could feel it.

"You should keep up with them," I sat down on a rock, unable to push myself any further. "You'll miss the sunrise."

She nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip, looking at our family that was way ahead of us.

"It's okay. Go." I assured her.

Instead, she crouched to my level. "Are you okay?"

I chuckled. "Except for the fact that I've asthma and I use that as a reason to justify my lack of enthusiasm to do adventures, I'm absolutely fine."

"Is it chronic?"

"Nope." I smiled down at her. "It just gets worse when I have a cold. Give me a few days and I'll be fine again."

She sighed, sitting down on the ground with her legs pulled up. "If I knew your immunity is so weak, I would have never persisted in getting out of the temple."

"You didn't though," I leaned in, hands interlaced between my knees. "It was my idea."

She shrugged. "I should have asked you. Like you did."

I chuckled. "That's okay."

She sighed helplessly, plucking at the grass by her feet.

"You should seriously go," I encouraged.

"I'll keep you company." She looked up at me.

"Are you compensating for what you did at the temple?" I smirked.

"I did what?" She frowned.

"Persisted at getting out in the middle of rainfall," I answered.

"I did no such thing!" She got defensive.

"Did I hear it wrong or was it not you a few minutes ago apologising to me for persisting to leave the temple that evening?"

She blinked at me. "Mr. Shrivastava, you're being so infuriating right now!"

I snickered. "You, Miss. Mathur, don't do well in verbal sparring."

"Please." She rolled her eyes. "I was the top choice for teachers at school during every debate competition."

"I wasn't. Yet here you are, losing against a major introvert. You need more practice." I nodded.

She looked away with a scoff.

A long pause of silence followed where we both enjoyed nature and each other's company. Sometimes she caught me stealing glances at her, other times I pretended she was doing the same. She had the most simple, regular brown eyes one would see every other day on different strangers, yet I was lucky enough to be so close to her that I can point out every single difference that sets those browns apart from the rest of the world. For example, the golden sparkle in her eyes reflected by the hit of the rising sunrays in the still water puddles around us was as beautiful as the magnanimous sun peeking from the east of the mountains. She was no Goddess by any means, her beauty could not be compared to those flawless models on billboards. But she was real, in the flesh for you to admire, and notice all those tiny little details that make her beautiful.