𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ( 𝐘𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐯𝐢 𝐉𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥 )

14

The dinner had started off under the veil of forced smiles and polite conversation. Yashasvi sat across from Jemimah, his mind racing as he contemplated the artifice of their relationship. She exuded a kind of energy that seemed to contradict everything he valued: composure, focus, and emotional restraint. Yet, as he watched her animatedly discuss the latest cricket match and her plans for the upcoming season, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was drawn to her, against his better judgment.

Jemimah was everything he wasn't—bold, expressive, and unafraid to wear her heart on her sleeve. It irked him, yet there was something undeniably captivating about her.

"I still can't believe you missed that catch today," Jemimah teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned forward. "You had it right in your hands!"

Yashasvi crossed his arms defensively. "Yeah, well, maybe if you'd stop talking and let me focus, I wouldn't drop it."

She laughed, a sound that grated against his irritation yet somehow warmed the space between them. Her eyes lighting up, "You're blaming me for your failings? Classic Jaiswal."

"Classic? Is that what you call it?" he replied, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance while secretly enjoying their banter. "Maybe you should worry about your own game. How many runs did you score last match?"

"Ouch, touché!" she shot back, feigning a wound expression, tucking a strand of hair absentmindedly, he noticed.

But in the next moment, she leaned over and snatched a bite of his butter chicken, her fork gliding effortlessly into his plate. "But seriously, this is amazing! You have good taste."

Yashasvi narrowed his eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and amusement at her audacity. "Excuse me? Did you just take my food without asking?"

"Just testing your reaction," she said, a cheeky grin lighting up her face. "And it worked. You're more fun than I thought."

He felt an involuntary tug at his lips. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"Just keeping you on your toes," she said, biting into a piece of naan and savoring it as if it were the best thing she'd ever tasted.

In retaliation, he leaned across the table and speared a piece of her paneer tikka, lifting it to his mouth. "If we're playing this game, I'll show you how it's done."

"Hey! That's my food!" she protested, but he could see the laughter in her eyes, the way her indignation couldn't mask her amusement.

"Now you know how it feels," he replied, enjoying the moment a little too much. The playful exchange began to thaw the icy walls he'd built around himself, a feeling he didn't know how to navigate.

As the meal continued, he noticed how she interacted with the waiter, her friendly banter and genuine smile disarming him even further. She had this uncanny ability to make everyone around her feel at ease, and he found himself studying her, admiring her charm despite his better judgment.

. . . . . .

The evening air was cool as they stepped outside, the sounds of the bustling restaurant fading into the background. Yashasvi took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly after the shared dinner. Yet, as he glanced over at Jemimah, who was adjusting her jacket, he felt the familiar weight of annoyance settling back in. She was infuriatingly cheerful, her smile bright against the dimming him.