Intensely Twisted Fate

Chapter : 26

Shravan's POV

It was a little after 4:30 when Lara and I finally left the office, the early end to the workweek not bringing the relief I had hoped for. As we walked out, she turned to me with a mischievous glint in her eye and said, “So, where to, Mister Serious Face?” I raised an eyebrow, and she smirked. “I’m craving Vada pav and some strong coffee. Let’s go grab some.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her suggestion. It was so typically her to want to make the most of our time together, even if it was just a quick bite at the local stall. We headed to the nearby shop, where the smell of spicy fried Vada pav filled the air. Lara had already called her dad, asking him to meet us at my place later for “the talk”—the conversation I was dreading, the one where I’d finally get answers to the questions I didn’t even know I had until now.

We ordered our snacks and took a seat at one of the little outdoor tables. Each passing second felt like it carried a ton of weight, and I kept finding myself lost in my thoughts. The memories of what my mom had said the night before, Aarav's cryptic words from a week ago—everything was coming back in a disorienting swirl. I felt the anxiety creeping up, the fear of the unknown tightening its grip around my chest. But then there was Lara, breaking through the fog.

"Hey, Mr. Frowny Face, you’re missing out," she said, waving a freshly made Vada pav in front of me. “Come on, let’s see you take a bite without looking like you’re at a funeral.”

I let out a small chuckle and took the Vada pav from her. “You’re lucky I’m starving,” I teased. As I took a bite, the familiar blend of flavors brought a bit of comfort. Lara kept talking, her voice animated, effortlessly pulling me out of my own head.

“You know,” she said with a grin, “once we shift into your new place—and yes, I’m saying ‘when,’ not ‘if’—we should have a Vada pav day every week. Or better yet, we can have a cooking competition. Loser has to do the dishes for a week. Though, let’s be real, we know who the better cook is,” she added, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” I shot back, feeling a little more relaxed. “Because last I checked, I’m the one who nailed the perfect tadka dal last time.”

She snorted. “Oh, please. That was one time. You got lucky because I was being generous and shared my secret recipe.”

Our banter flowed easily, and for a moment, the dread faded into the background. She was throwing out random ideas for how we could decorate the kitchen in the new place, whether or not we’d grow our own herbs on the balcony, and jokingly warned me that she’d take over the entire closet space.

“Better start looking for places with extra closets, then,” she quipped, poking my shoulder. “You know how much stuff I have. And no, you don’t get to say ‘minimalism,’ not when you have more shoes than me.”

She kept steering the conversation to lighter topics whenever she noticed my mind drifting back into darker territory. Her laughter was like a lifeline, pulling me back every time I felt myself slipping away into the swirl of worry and anticipation. I didn’t know how she did it, but she always knew when I needed the distraction.

At one point, as I was staring into my cup of coffee, feeling the familiar weight start to creep back in, she reached over and placed her hand on mine. “You know, whatever happens tonight, it’s not going to change anything between us,” she said softly. “We’ve already come this far, and we’ll face whatever comes next together.”

I looked at her, her expression steady and warm, and I felt a rush of gratitude. “Thanks,” I murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

She squeezed my hand, then grinned again, “Well, for one, you’d definitely be eating bland food.”

We both laughed, and just like that, I felt a little more grounded, a little more ready to face whatever was waiting for us later tonight.