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It was a lazy Friday evening, the kind of day where the world felt wrapped in a cozy blanket. The rain drummed softly against the windows, filling the flat with a soothing rhythm.
Prapti was curled up on the couch, wearing one of Shubman's oversized hoodies, engrossed in her laptop.
She was working on a draft for a campaign, her hair in a messy bun, and an empty mug of tea sitting beside her.
Shubman, sitting cross-legged on the rug, had been quietly strumming his guitar—a skill he'd been trying (and mostly failing) to learn for months.
He wasn't naturally musically inclined, but he'd kept at it, often practicing in secret while Prapti was out. Tonight, however, he decided to put his (limited) skills to the test.
"Hey," he called softly, setting the guitar in his lap.
Prapti glanced up, her eyes softening at the sight of him. "Hmm?"
"Can I steal your attention for a minute?" he asked, his tone tinged with both excitement and nerves.
She closed her laptop, tilting her head curiously. "What's going on?"
Shubman grinned, his cheeks dimpling. "I've been working on something. For you."
Her brows lifted in surprise. "Oh? Is it a song? Because if it's a love song, I swear I'm going to—"
"Shh," he interrupted, laughing. "Just let me do this, alright?"
He adjusted the guitar, his fingers fumbling slightly as he placed them on the strings. Taking a deep breath, he began to strum.
The tune was uneven, the chords occasionally off, but there was something endearing about the earnestness in his effort. He looked up at her briefly, his eyes shining with a mix of concentration and hope.
"Prapti..." he began to sing, his voice more confident than his playing. The words were simple, sweet, and completely improvised:
"You drive me crazy, and you know it too. When you're around, there's nothing I can't do. Your laugh's like sunshine, your smile's my sky, If love's a game, well, I'm your guy."
Prapti covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her giggles as he continued. The song was adorable, filled with the kind of goofy rhymes that could only come from someone who didn't take themselves too seriously.
"Every time you steal my hoodie, I realize I'm whipped, it's my duty. You're my jaan, my muse, my all-time star, But damn, babe, can't you tune my guitar?"
At this, Prapti burst out laughing, leaning back on the couch and clutching her stomach. "Shubman Gill, what was that?"
He stopped playing, grinning sheepishly. "That, my love, was me pouring my heart out in the only way I know how."
"You're ridiculous," she said, shaking her head but unable to stop smiling. "I can't believe you actually wrote a song for me."
"Hey," he protested, setting the guitar down. "That was not just a song—it was an experience."
"An experience of bad chords and worse rhymes," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.
Shubman crawled over to her, resting his chin on the edge of the couch and giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Admit it—you loved it."
Prapti rolled her eyes, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Fine. I loved it. Happy now?"
"Very," he said, pulling her off the couch and into his lap. "Even if I sucked?"
"Especially because you sucked," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It was perfect because it was you. Don't ever stop being this ridiculous, okay?"
"Never," he promised, nuzzling her nose. "But next time, I'm learning a real song."
"Next time?" she echoed, smirking. "I can't wait."
The rain continued its gentle rhythm, the world outside a blur of grey. But inside, their laughter filled the flat, a melody all their own, more beautiful than any song.
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woop woop!
and here we have the 14th chapter! finally, like after so long
