Meet Indira Devi, an ambitious 18-year-old from India who secures acceptance into her dream university, The London School of Economics. Leaving behind the comforts of her home country, she sets out on a journey to pursue her passion for economics an...
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Eating lunch with Indira was... something else. Delightful, if I had to put a word to it. She talked with her hands, laughed at all my lame jokes (even the accidental ones), and somehow made everything feel like a scene straight out of a movie.
But every time I even slightly tried to flirt, guess who would pop up out of nowhere like a clingy ghost?
Aidan. My personal romance prevention service. Incredible.
After stuffing ourselves with food, we ended up walking around—"to burn off the calories," as Aidan dramatically claimed, hands in the air like some fitness guru. I honestly didn't mind, the day was crisp, and Indira looked ridiculously cute with her hair half up and her cardigan sleeves too long for her arms.
Eventually—bless the heavens above—Aidan ditched us midway to answer some phone call from his "mystery girl." Thank you, mystery girl. You are doing God's work.
Now it was just me and Indie. Walking side by side. In London. In autumn. With leaves crunching beneath our shoes and her eating ice cream.
I know. Ice cream.
"So..." I said, hands in my pockets as I glanced over at her, "It's just been you, your brother, and your dad since you were a baby?"
She nodded, lips pressing into a small smile as she licked a bit of melted vanilla from her spoon.
"That's... I don't know, Indie. That's rough. I'm sorry. It really isn't fair for anyone."
She didn't say much—just hummed—and the silence between us felt soft. Not awkward. Just... calm. Like she trusted me enough to not fill every second with noise.
"Kinda wild you're telling all this to some random guy you met three days ago in a new country," I said, trying to lighten the moment, bumping her shoulder gently with mine.
She let out this small laugh, low and sweet. "You're right. Who even are you?"
God, her voice when she joked like that? Lethal. I smiled wider than I should've and shook my head.
"Alright, alright, forget that. I have a more urgent question," I said, stopping mid-step and turning to face her.
She looked up at me, full attention locked in, spoon mid-air as she blinked. Her eyes—brown and warm and stupidly distracting—stared up with the kind of curiosity that made my chest squeeze.
