Fragrance of love

37. WILL YOU BE MY GARBA DATE

– 5 PM, October 3 (Navratri)**

                  SHANAYA

The mirror was mocking me. Or maybe it was my reflection, tangled in a mess of indecision and dread. I stared at the heap of clothes on my bed—each one more colorful than the last, all perfect for the occasion, yet I couldn't bring myself to wear any of them.

"Maybe this pink one?" I muttered, holding up the lehenga. I imagined stepping into the pandal, the eyes, the murmurs, and then... him. Saransh. I felt a knot twist in my stomach.

I slumped back onto the bed, letting the fabric fall from my hands. No, I couldn't do this. I couldn't face him, not today, not after everything that had happened. My fingers toyed with the bangles on my dresser, but my heart wasn't in it.

"What if I just… didn’t go?" The thought had crossed my mind a hundred times today. No one would notice, right? There were enough people celebrating that one absence wouldn’t matter. But I knew better. Bhai would call, demand where I was, and Saransh… would he care?

I shook the thought away. Why did it always come back to him? Every decision, every hesitation was somehow tied to the fear of seeing him again. His teasing words still echoed in my head, the way he never took anything seriously. But I couldn’t afford to pretend it didn’t affect me anymore.

I glanced at my phone, hoping for an excuse to bail. Maybe I could say I wasn’t feeling well? Or that something came up with work? Anything but the truth—that the idea of seeing him made me want to run.

The clock was ticking. I had to decide, but I wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Just as I was about to give in to the idea of making up an excuse, there was a knock on the door. My heart jumped. Who could it be?

Before I could even react, the door creaked open, and standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that infuriating grin, was Saransh.

"Still deciding, princess?" he asked, his eyes scanning the chaos of clothes around me.

I swallowed hard, trying to muster up some confidence, but all I could feel was the tension that had been building up since this morning. "What... what are you doing here?"

He shrugged casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to just barge into my room uninvited. "Ikshit sent me to check if you're planning to grace us with your presence, or if you're too busy having a fashion crisis."

"Not your business," I muttered, pulling the pink lehenga closer to me like it could shield me from his gaze.

Saransh’s smirk deepened as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "Come on, Shanaya, you know you can't hide forever." His voice dropped slightly, as if he was saying more than just words.

"I wasn't hiding," I lied, my voice sounding weaker than I intended. "I was just... thinking."

"Thinking of what excuse you'll use to avoid me?" His tone was teasing, but there was something in his eyes that told me he wasn't entirely joking.

My heart pounded in my chest. He was too close, too casual, like this was just another game to him. But it wasn’t a game to me.

Saransh took a few more steps into the room, his presence looming larger than life. I instinctively moved back, my fingers tightening around the edge of the lehenga.

"I wasn't avoiding you," I said, my voice faltering. Even I didn’t believe myself.

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as if he was challenging me to admit what we both knew. "Sure, Shanaya. That's why you're sitting here, drowning in clothes, instead of getting ready to enjoy Navratri like everyone else."