𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝟖. 𝐀 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞

As I drove, I couldn't help but think about how much I'd do for her. Eating street food wasn't usually my thing, but if she asked me to, I'd gladly oblige. But what caught me off guard was her sudden gesture - feeding me a piece of chocolate while I drove. It was a simple act, yet it spoke volumes about her thoughtfulness.

For a moment, I was taken aback, my mind blanking out as I processed what was happening. Maybe it was the surprise, or maybe it was the intimacy of the moment, but I felt a spark of connection I couldn't ignore. And then, without thinking, I reacted. I gently grabbed her hand, my fingers wrapping around hers, and ate the chocolate she was holding.

The silence between us was palpable as we drove to Juhu Beach, the only sound the soft hum of the engine. I couldn't help but think about the unexpected moment we shared earlier - the chocolate, the touch, the spark. It lingered in the air, a gentle tension that neither of us acknowledged.

Finally, I broke the silence, my voice a little softer than usual, "We've reached." She nodded, her eyes still fixed on some point ahead. And then, as she glanced outside, her face transformed. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and a radiant smile spread across her face. It was as if she had stumbled upon a treasure trove of delights.

I wished, in that moment, that I could freeze time and behold this sight every day. Her joy was infectious, and I found myself smiling along with her. As she almost ran towards the momo stall, I followed closely behind, my eyes fixed on her, drinking in the sight of her unbridled enthusiasm. The beach, the lights, the sounds - everything faded into the background as I trailed behind her, captivated by the simple pleasure of being near her.

"Bhaiya, ek plate steam aur ek plate fried momo dena," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The shopkeeper nodded and handed her the plates, but as soon as she touched them, she winced in pain. The scorching hot plates were too much for her delicate hands to handle.

Without hesitation, I stepped in, gently taking the plates from her. Our fingers touched, and I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. I led her to a quiet spot on the sand, a distance away from the shore, where we sat down together.

The sound of the waves and the cries of seagulls filled the air as we sat there, the warm glow of the streetlights casting a romantic ambiance around us.
She signaled me to hand over the plates, but I playfully refused, teasing her. She frowned and pouted, her eyes sparkling with mock annoyance. "Tum khalo pehle. Main nahi kha raha. I'm just holding these plates," (you can eat first, I'll have it later) I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

She shot back, "Okay, but tum ek khaoge toh bimar nahi padoge." (Okay, but if you eat one, you won't fall sick.)

I chuckled and declared, "Pehle tum khalo... Main kha lunga" (You eat first... I'll eat later).

As she took a momo and dipped it in the red chutney, her eyes fluttered closed, and a soft moan escaped her lips. A radiant smile spread across her face, and I was captivated by the sheer joy she found in that moment. She repeated the process with the green chutney, her expression equally delighted.