Celestial Bond

4

Sita🌻

I sank into the couch on this Sunday, popcorn in hand, ready for the big India-Pakistan cricket match. Arjun had stepped out, so I figured it was the perfect time to give my poor boobs a break. I couldn't stand the suffocating bra any longer. With a sigh of relief, I slid it off, stuffed it under the couch cushion, and pulled on my granddad's oversized t-shirt—it practically swallowed me whole.

Feeling thirsty, I went to the kitchen to grab some water. But when I came back, there was Arjun, sitting on the couch, munching away at the popcorn. My eyes darted to the couch, and there it was—the bra strap peeking out. He hadn't noticed. Yet.

He glanced up at me as I walked in, and I instantly hunched my shoulders, trying to act casual, hoping he wouldn't realize I wasn't wearing a bra. His brows furrowed, confused at my weird posture. I flashed him a small, awkward smile, grabbed a cushion on to my lap, and pushed the bra deeper into the couch's edge as I sat next to him, trying to look normal.

The match started.

"I love you, Mahi!Go for it! Wicket!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, completely forgetting that Arjun was watching too.

We couldn't be more different. Every catch, every wicket, I shout, jump, and sulk, riding the rollercoaster of emotions. Arjun? He watches it all calmly. He'll give a quiet fist bump when he's happy and a frown when he's disappointed. Yet somehow, even in his quietness, he's adorable.

As we both reached into the popcorn tub at the same time, I felt the light brush of his hand against mine. His veins stood out, sending a shiver up my arm as the popcorn seemed to crawl against my skin. Startled, I quickly pulled my hand away just as Arjun glanced at me, our hands briefly touching.

And then—bam! A wicket.

We were glued to the screen when suddenly, Arjun gently grabbed my hand and placed it back on top of his.

"When your hand touched mine, a wicket went down. If we do it again, maybe it'll happen again," he said with a straight face. I blinked at him in disbelief, nodding along. No one would ever believe that this giant of a man actually bought into such superstitions—but here we were.

To my shock, another wicket fell almost instantly.

I turned to Arjun, eyes wide, only to see him smirking as he knew it all along. We kept our hands together after that, neither of us willing to break the streak.

The match boiled down to the last ball, and tension hung heavy in the air. We both stood up, nerves on edge, eyes glued to Shami. Our grip on each other tightened.

The ball flew—another wicket!

I let out a scream of pure joy, leaping into Arjun's arms. We hugged tightly, jumping up and down in wild celebration. But then, just as Arjun stopped moving, freezing in place, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks—I wasn't wearing a bra.

I looked up at Arjun, only to find his gaze locked on the exact spot on the couch where my bra was hidden.

"Arjun ji, India won! We need to wash the curtains and sheets! Hahaha!" I blurted the first thing that popped into my head, my voice shaky with nerves. Without missing a beat, I pushed him towards the curtains and quickly snatched up the sheets, wrapping them into a bundle with the bra tucked inside.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Is it really necessary to wash the curtains and sheets when India wins?"

I felt my heart race. My excuse made no sense, but I had to commit. "Of course! Before every festival, we wash all the sheets and curtains, right? Well, India winning is like a festival! So we have to wash them," I said, hurrying towards the washing machine, hoping my logic would stick.