Bridging Hearts

19. Can I be the one you call yours?

Writer's perspective

Tara stood on the rooftop, the cold wind biting at her skin, but it did little to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. Hugging herself, she stared out at the city, the twinkling lights below offering no comfort. It wasn't the chill of the air that had her heart racing—it was Dante, the impending conversation, and the kiss she couldn't stop thinking about.

The sound of footsteps behind her made her pulse quicken. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was, but she did anyway. Dante was there, his green eyes locking onto hers. The warmth she'd been avoiding for days tugged at her heart, and she forced herself to look away, turning back to the skyline.

He walked over, his steps steady, sure, but there was tension in his posture that mirrored the nervous energy coursing through her. Dante came to stand beside her, the space between them small but significant. His presence always had that electrifying effect, and now, with everything that had happened, it was magnified.

They stood in silence for a moment, the quiet thick with unspoken words. Tara finally sighed, her breath visible in the cold night air, and spoke.

"I've been avoiding you," she began, her voice soft, "because I didn't know how to deal with what happened. The kiss... it wasn't something I wanted—" She caught the flicker of hurt in his eyes and quickly corrected herself. "I mean, it wasn't something I didn't want either. I just wasn't ready for it."

Dante let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, Petardo. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you into something. I've been trying to apologize, but I guess I only made things worse."

Tara shook her head, her gaze still fixed on the lights. "No, you didn't. If anything, I've been the one making this harder. You've been patient, and I've been... well, avoiding you."

Dante turned to face her fully, his voice gentle but firm. "You had every right to. I know it was unexpected. But, Petardo... I've had feelings for you for a while now. That kiss... it happened because I couldn't hold back anymore. I like you. More than I should. More than it's probably safe."

Tara turned to face him, surprise flashing across her face. "Why me, Dante? I'm just an average girl. I'm nothing special."

Dante gave her a look that was equal parts exasperation and affection. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Petardo, you're not just some 'average girl.' You're the woman who bites her lip when she's thinking hard, who gets this adorable wide-eyed look whenever something excites her, who covers her mouth when she laughs like she's trying to hide just how much joy she feels. And you wear kurtas when you're in an extremely good mood, like it's a secret code only you know. It's all these little things that make you... well, you. You're not just special to me, Petardo. You are more than that."

Tara bit her lip again—just as he had mentioned—and felt her heart flip in her chest. Dante always had a way of cutting through her defenses. But she wasn't going to let him have the last word so easily.

"That was incredibly cheesy," she teased, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Dante chuckled, leaning a little closer. "Yeah, well, I'm willing to embrace the cheese if it means you'll finally stop avoiding me."

Tara shook her head, fighting back a laugh. "I don't know how you do it. One minute, I'm frustrated with you, and the next... you make me smile."

Dante grinned, his eyes twinkling. "It's a gift."

The air between them seemed to settle as they both chuckled. But then Dante grew serious again, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower.

"Petardo," he murmured, "can I be the one you call yours?"

Tara's heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth, about to voice her concern. "But... what about Bhaiya? He'll—"

Dante cut her off, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Miss Tara Basu, my Petardo, let me ask you again—can I be the one you call yours?"

She let out a breath, finally letting herself smile fully. "You know Bhaiya's going to murder you, right?"

Dante's grin widened. "I've survived worse."

Tara laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, have you now?"

"Yep," Dante said, his tone light but his eyes dead serious. "I've survived life without you. Pretty sure I can handle anything now."

Tara's laughter died down, replaced by something softer, more tender. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, here you are," Dante teased, inching closer.

Tara sighed playfully. "Yeah, here I am."

Dante leaned down, his forehead almost touching hers. "So... what do you say? Can I be the one?"

Tara rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed on her face. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you about Bhaiya."

Dante chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "Deal. As long as I get to call you mine."

Tara pressed her face into his chest, her arms sliding around his waist as she held him tight. "You already do."

They stood like that for a moment, the city below them forgotten, as the cool night air swirled around them. It felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of them, standing there on the rooftop, together.

Dante pulled back slightly, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. "You know, now that you've said yes, I can finally do something I've been wanting to do."

Tara raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

Dante cupped her face with both hands, kissing her forehead softly, then her nose, making her giggle. "This," he whispered, before pressing his lips gently to hers.

The kiss was sweet, unhurried, and filled with the promise of more to come. When they finally broke apart, Tara's heart was racing, and Dante was grinning like he'd just won a battle.

"I've got you now, Petardo," he murmured, his voice barely above a whsper. "And I'm never letting you go."

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