Shuttles And Stars

Sia

The next morning, as I replayed the events of last night in my head, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed. What had I said? That Neeraj was the color to my sky? A part of me cringed at the thought. Romance, to me, was like salt in tea—completely out of place and unnatural. I had no room for it in my life. So, how on Earth had those words slipped out of my mouth?

Meera, always quick to tease, caught my expression as I came back inside. "The colorful sky, hmm?" she said with a knowing grin.

I shot her a serious look, trying to push aside my embarrassment. "That was the alcohol talking," I insisted, waving off her comment. "I don't even have feelings for Neeraj. I have no idea why I said that."

Meera raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You say what you feel when you're drunk, Sia. It’s called honesty under the influence."

I shook my head, stubbornly denying it. "But I don't even like him that way. I mean, he's a celebrity, the national crush for crying out loud. And I can't let anyone see me being vulnerable, Meera."

Meera softened, her teasing tone fading. "It's okay to feel something, Sia. Not everything needs to be rational."

I sighed, determined not to give in. "I don't have room for romance, Meera. I can't afford to be that vulnerable. Not with anyone."

As I headed for the shower, trying to clear my mind, the warmth of the water felt oddly soothing, yet every drop seemed to bring back memories of Neeraj. The way he smiled, his calm presence—it all came rushing back. But no, I couldn't let myself fall into that trap. I brushed off the thoughts, focusing on the familiar routine of the day ahead.

Later, as I stepped outside my quarters, engrossed in my phone, I suddenly bumped into a solid figure. I looked up, and there he was—Neeraj, standing right in front of me with that easy smile.

"Hey," he greeted casually, "you doing okay? How's the headache?"

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Better, thanks," I muttered, trying to act nonchalant.

As we walked, I couldn’t help but ask, "So, um, what kind of drunk was I last night? Like, was I romantic, violent, diplomatic, or...?"

Neeraj chuckled, clearly amused. "Definitely romantic," he said, making me feel even more embarrassed.

I immediately began to apologize. "I’m sorry! I don't know why I said those things. I didn’t mean it."

Neeraj stopped walking and placed a finger gently on my lips. "Sia, it's okay. You were drunk. It happens. And if it makes you feel better, I'm happy to handle it when you do."

I blinked, momentarily stunned by how effortlessly kind he was. But I couldn’t let this soften me. Not when I was so stubborn about love. I quickly shifted the conversation, turning the moment into a joke to push him away.

"You know, even if you were the last guy left on Earth, you would never be the color of my sky," I teased, crossing my arms. "That was just the alcohol talking."

Neeraj chuckled, shaking his head at my stubbornness. "Is that right?" he said, clearly unconvinced.

I nodded, standing firm. "Absolutely. I’m just not that kind of person, Neeraj. Romance and I? We don't mix."

We walked in silence for a bit after that, the garden peaceful around us. But there was still that warmth between us, a connection I couldn’t entirely deny, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. But I was Sia, and I wouldn’t let love or romance creep into my well-guarded life so easily. Even if Neeraj had a way of making me question that more and more each day.