Threads of Tradition: Tales Of Indian Arranged Marriages

8.

The evening unfolded like a scene from one of Mira’s films, soft lighting casting a warm glow across their modest dining table. Neel had decided to cook for them, channelling his inner chef with a simple yet hearty meal: pasta with a rich homemade sauce and a side of garlic bread. He wanted to create a moment that felt special, a reprieve from the tumult of their recent challenges.

As Mira entered the dining room, her eyes widened at the sight. “Wow, Neel! This looks amazing,” she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face. The scent of herbs and tomatoes filled the air, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

Neel chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “Just something to celebrate making it through a tough week. I thought we could use a little treat.”

Mira’s heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. They settled down at the table, the atmosphere lively with the clinking of cutlery and playful banter. As they shared their meal, laughter echoed around them, mingling with the comforting sounds of the city outside. They reminisced about their journey so far—the awkwardness of their first days as roommates, the chaos of their respective careers, and the moments that had brought them closer.

“I still can’t believe how you stepped up during that whole funding fiasco,” Mira said, her eyes sparkling. “You were my rock.”

Neel waved off her praise with a modest smile. “You would’ve done the same for me. That’s what partners do, right?”

Mira’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The way he cared for her, always putting her needs first, stirred something deep within her—a realization that had been growing steadily since their first awkward moments as husband and wife.

As the meal came to an end, Mira leaned back in her chair, feeling satisfied and content. Neel cleared the table, their casual conversation flowing seamlessly. But as the laughter subsided, an unfamiliar tension filled the air. It was subtle, yet undeniable—the kind of electricity that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Neel joined her on the couch, their knees brushing together, sending a thrill coursing through her. They turned to face each other, and for a moment, the world around them faded. It was just the two of them in their little bubble, a shared silence thick with unsaid words.

“Mira,” Neel began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

Her heart raced, caught between excitement and apprehension. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, searching her eyes for something he wasn’t sure he would find. “I mean, we’ve been through so much together. I never expected to feel so… connected to you.”

Mira swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She felt it too—this magnetic pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. “I feel it too, Neel. But we agreed to keep things… platonic, right?”

Neel’s expression softened, and he moved a fraction closer. “I know what we agreed on, but it’s hard to ignore what’s happening between us. I don’t want to ruin what we have, but I also can’t pretend that I don’t care about you.”

A flutter of hope ignited in Mira’s chest, but uncertainty still loomed over them. “What if we ruin everything? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Neel replied, his gaze unwavering. “I’m willing to take that risk if you are.”

Mira felt her breath hitch in her throat. The sincerity in his eyes made her heart race, urging her to cross that line they had carefully drawn. But just as she opened her mouth to respond, the doorbell rang, shattering the moment like fragile glass.

Neel sighed, running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated by the interruption. “I’ll get it.”

As he stood, Mira’s heart sank, the weight of their unspoken feelings lingering in the air like a bittersweet melody. She watched as he walked away, her mind swirling with a mixture of longing and fear. The door swung open, revealing a delivery man with a package, completely oblivious to the pivotal moment they had just shared.

“Thanks,” Neel said, taking the package and closing the door behind him. He turned back to Mira, but the moment had slipped through their fingers like sand.

“Everything okay?” she asked, forcing a smile to mask her disappointment.

“Yeah, just a delivery,” he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of defeat. He returned to the couch, but the energy between them had shifted, now filled with what-ifs and lingering glances.

As they sat together, Mira couldn’t shake the feeling that they had come so close to something profound. The connection they shared was undeniable, yet the fear of stepping into the unknown held them back. She caught Neel’s eye, and for a fleeting moment, they both recognized the truth: they were teetering on the edge of something beautiful, but the leap still felt too daunting.

That night, they exchanged a few more words, but the intimacy of their earlier conversation hung in the air, a reminder of what they had almost touched. As Mira lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to bridge the gap between them. Neel was no longer just her roommate or even her husband by arrangement; he was becoming someone she cared for deeply.

And somewhere in the quiet of the night, she felt the first stirrings of hope, knowing that the moments of realization were just the beginning of their journey together.