Betrothed

20 \ beach bare

Divya stared at Vikram from behind her oversized sunglasses, watching the way his eyes remained fixed on the ocean. They'd been on the beach for almost an hour, and he hadn't said a word. He was usually animated—teasing her, brushing stray sand from her shoulder, occasionally placing a kiss on her temple. But now, he seemed like a sculpture—present, but far away.

She tilted her head, trying to follow his line of sight. Was he checking someone out? She subtly scanned the shoreline, but there were no bikini-clad distractions that could explain the pensive frown on his face. She nudged his thigh gently with her toe.

"What's up?" she asked, unable to ignore the tugging unease in her chest.

Vikram turned to her, blinking like he'd forgotten she was there. "What?"

"Why are you so lost?" she clarified.

He hesitated for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair. "It's Kabir."

Divya sat up straighter. "Your brother?"

"Yeah." Vikram leaned back into his beach chair, sighing. "He met Shriya recently. In Bikaner. It was a formal thing—some family function. But... something felt off."

"Shriya? As in the Princess of Bikaner? I thought she was still in Queensland," Divya said, trying to recall the last update she'd heard.

"She came back last week for a series of events. Kabir had to be there. I watched them greet each other, and..." he trailed off.

"And?" Divya prodded.

"It wasn't just awkward. It was tense. Like they were holding back something. Not shyness. Not unfamiliarity. But discomfort."

Divya frowned. "Kabir's not the kind of guy to make someone uncomfortable. If anything, he charms people even when he doesn't try."

"Exactly. That's what's bothering me. Kabir isn't himself around her. He was stiff, too careful with his words. And Shriya... she looked like she was trying hard not to react to anything."

"You think there's history?" Divya asked softly.

Vikram didn't answer right away. "I don't know. But I've never seen Kabir like that. And when I asked him later, he brushed it off. Said he was tired."

Divya nodded slowly, digesting the information. She reached over and placed a hand on Vikram's arm. "Maybe they just need time. Not every engagement starts with ease."

Vikram turned his hand over and laced their fingers together. "Maybe. But I just... I don't want him to feel trapped."

Divya looked at their entwined hands and bit her lip. "Like we did, before everything changed?"

He glanced sideways at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Exactly like that. Except we got lucky."

They sat in silence for a few moments, the waves crashing softly behind them.

"Speaking of the past," Vikram said suddenly, "Karan messaged you last night."

Divya's head snapped toward him. "You checked my phone?"

"No," Vikram said calmly. "Your phone lit up when you were in the shower. I happened to see it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And?"

"And it made me think... we haven't really spoken about him. Not properly."

Divya leaned back in her chair. "Because there's nothing to talk about. He's my best friend."

"He was also the guy you once thought you were in love with," Vikram said, watching her carefully.

Divya exhaled, a wry smile curling on her lips. "You remember that?"

"You told me. One drunken wedding night rant, remember?"

She did. She remembered the exact moment. They had sat with half-empty wine glasses, strangers bound by ceremony, exchanging secrets like loose change.

"I thought I was in love with him," she said now. "But I wasn't. I was just afraid of being alone. And Karan... he always made me feel safe. He's like that blanket you've had since you were a kid. Comforting. Familiar. But that doesn't mean you want to marry the blanket."

Vikram chuckled. "You have a way with analogies."

She grinned, but her smile faltered slightly. "Are you jealous?"

He didn't answer immediately. "I was. When I first found out. And maybe a little now, knowing he's still around. But mostly... I'm just curious."

"About?"

"What you feel when you talk to him now. Do you still reach for that blanket when things get tough?"

Divya looked at him, long and hard. "I reach for you now. When things get tough. When I'm tired, or angry, or happy, or bored. It's always you."

Something in Vikram's posture relaxed. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He leaned forward, brushing a hand down her cheek. "Okay."

"Okay?" she repeated.

He smiled. "Yeah. Okay."

She smiled back and pulled him to her. Their lips met softly at first, but it quickly deepened. His fingers curled around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She laughed into his mouth as he adjusted their positions clumsily on the narrow beach chair.

"You really want to do this here?" she teased between kisses.

"Private beach," he murmured against her throat.

"But not invisible beach," she giggled.

"I'll take my chances," he said, lips trailing down her collarbone.

She groaned softly as his hands slid under her sundress. The salty air, the crash of waves, the heat of his skin against hers—it all blended into a haze. He lay her back on the chair and tugged her bikini bottoms aside with deft fingers.

"You enjoy being reckless, don't you?" she whispered.

"With you? Always."

And for a while, there were no questions, no pasts, no best friends or brothers or uncertain engagements. Just them—skin against skin, breath against breath—two people who hadn't planned to fall but had no intention of letting go now that they had.