Shuttles And Stars

Neeraj

After practice, as I was putting my racket away, Abhimanyu nudged me with a grin on his face. "Bro, it’s Meera’s birthday tomorrow. I want to do something special for her, but I have zero ideas," he confessed, scratching his head.

I chuckled. “Zero ideas? Isn’t that your specialty?”

He smirked, giving me a playful shove. “That’s why I’m roping you in, genius. Let’s ask Sia. She’s always good with this stuff.”

And just like that, we found ourselves at Sia’s place after practice, explaining our plan—or rather, our lack of one.

Sia, as expected, didn’t waste any time. “Alright, here’s the plan,” she said, already pulling out her phone and scrolling through catering options. “We’ll surprise her tonight with her favorite snacks—samosas, chaat, all the usual suspects.” She looked over at Abhimanyu, who nodded enthusiastically. “And let’s invite a few of her friends—Netra, Vikram, Major Rishi, Col. Rajput, and Dr. Maj. Ridhima. Meera will love it.”

Abhimanyu beamed. “Sia, you’re the best!”

Sia raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah. Now, Abhi, you’re in charge of decorating the living room. Go all out—balloons, streamers, lights, whatever you need.”

He saluted her with a laugh, already heading off to gather supplies.

Sia turned to me next, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “And you, Mr. Dixit, are going to help me bake the cake.”

I was about to protest—I barely knew the first thing about baking—but her expression dared me to refuse. “Alright, fine. Lead the way, Chef Sia.”

With a satisfied smile, she led me to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and setting them on the counter. The place felt surprisingly quiet without Meera around. “She won’t be back till 12:30,” Sia informed me, answering my unasked question. “So we’ve got time.”

We started measuring the flour and sugar, Sia explaining each step as she handed me tasks. It felt oddly intimate—just the two of us, side by side, covered in a light dusting of flour and exchanging quiet laughter. At one point, I managed to spill a bit of the flour, and she rolled her eyes, reaching over to dust it off my sleeve.

“Careful, Dixit. You’re not handling your racket here,” she teased, her fingers brushing against my arm.

I grinned, not missing the subtle warmth in her voice. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to keep you close.”

She stopped for a second, her eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something unspoken, something deeper, before she quickly looked away, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink.

We continued working, and as she mixed the batter, I found myself mesmerized by her focus—the way her brow furrowed slightly, her lips pursed in concentration. I hadn’t realized I’d been staring until she smirked. “Am I that fascinating?”

I blinked, feeling a bit caught off guard. “Can’t help it. You’re in your element, Iron Woman.”

She chuckled, her laughter softening the air between us. “You know, I’m not always as tough as you think.”

“Maybe not,” I said, my voice low, “but I like all sides of you.”

For a moment, there was only silence, the unspoken words hanging in the air. She looked up at me, her gaze lingering, and I felt my heart beat a little faster.

“Help me pour this,” she said finally, passing me the bowl, but her fingers brushed mine as I took it, a small touch that sent a shiver through me. It was nothing, really, just a quick moment—but it left me wanting more.

As we poured the batter into the pan, I couldn’t help but lean a little closer, my shoulder brushing against hers. She didn’t pull away; instead, she let out a soft, almost nervous laugh.

“Tumhare toh bas ka hi nahi hai, Dixit,” she murmured, shaking her head but smiling.

I leaned in, unable to resist teasing her just a little. “I don’t know, Sia. I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

She looked up at me, her eyes holding mine, and in that small, shared silence, it felt like there was more than just cake between us. A quiet understanding, an invisible thread pulling us closer.

Just then, the timer went off, breaking the spell. She pulled back, clearing her throat. “The cake should be ready by the time Meera’s back.”

“Good timing,” I managed to say, trying to shake off the way she’d made me feel with just a glance.

As we put the cake in the oven and cleaned up the kitchen, the distance between us felt a little shorter, the air warmer. And for once, I wasn’t in any hurry to leave.