...The art of falling in love...( Abhira❤️Armaan)

13

The morning sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Abhira, armed with her laptop and a mountain of notes, stood before Armaan's apartment door. A glance at her watch confirmed she was precisely on time, maybe even a few minutes early. She pressed the doorbell, a cheerful chime that seemed to vibrate through the quiet hallway.

The door swung open, and Abhira’s breath hitched in her throat. Standing there, framed by the doorway, was Armaan. And that was all there was of him – framed by the doorway, and a towel wrapped low around his hips. A gasp escaped her lips, followed by a mortified squeal.

Why are you screaming?” Armaan asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, droplets of water still clinging to his dark hair.

“Why are you not… wearing anything?” Abhira stammered, her eyes darting everywhere but at him.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture casual and, to her dismay, oddly captivating. “I just came from the shower. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh, really? Didn’t you tell me to come up?” she retorted, her voice laced with incredulity.

“Yes, but I told you to come at eleven o’clock,” he said, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.

“Yes, and I am exactly on time.” Abhira pointed out, her hands now on her hips.

“But… who actually comes at the exact time, babes?” he teased, a playful smirk curving his mouth.

Abhira’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, I’m not your ‘babes’!”

Armaan simply turned and, with a shake of his head, retreated into his room, presumably to get dressed. Abhira, still flustered, stepped inside and perched on the sofa. Armaan emerged a few minutes later, clad in a casual t-shirt and jeans.

He went to the kitchen, the clinking of mugs and the whir of the coffee machine filling the air. He returned with two steaming mugs and sat beside her, a comfortable silence settling between them.

Abhira took a sip and began "Armaan,
"I've done more than half the project now. Today we'll complete it, okay?"

They were about to dive into their work when their hands brushed. Abhira quickly snatched hers away, a sudden awareness prickling her skin.

"Abhira," Armaan murmured, his voice softer than usual, but she cut him off.

"Listen, Armaan, we're here to work. Let's just do it, please."

Armaan leaned back, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee. “Work, work, work,” he echoed, his voice a low murmur. "I don’t care about the work. I care about you. I care about us.”

Abhira's head snapped up. "About us? What do you mean?"

Armaan gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment.

"Armaan," Abhira whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

"Don't you think," he continued, ignoring her protest, "there's something… between us?”

"No, no, you know what?" Abhira burst out, her voice rising in panic. "I hate you. I just hate you."

Armaan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"Because you're a double-facer!" What do you think of yourself? I know everything! I know you were the one who rescued me when the AARRC group locked me in the storeroom! I know you told Mrs. Soni that she should pair us up for this project! I can’t understand your double standard!” Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.

Armaan reached out, gently pulling her into a hug. "Relax," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything's okay." He held her tight until her breathing steadied.

He stepped back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. But, what else could I do? I like spending time with you, baba. That's why I told Mrs. Soni to pair us up. And that day when I rescued you…we were enemies then, that's why I didn’t want you to know I was your rescuer."

If we were enemies then why did you saved me? And if we were enemies then what are ‘us’ now?" she asked, her voice softer now, still laced with confusion.

Armaan froze, his gaze unwavering. "I don't know, but I'm sure that we aren't enemies now, maybe we are friends… or more than friends."

Abhira's eyes widened. She quickly stepped back, her cheeks burning, and went to sit at the table, focusing her attention on the scattered papers. Armaan followed her, leaning close, his breath tickling her ear.

"What do you think about us, Abhira? What are we?" he whispered.

"Armaan, I think we should do our work," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Armaan smiled, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes. "Okay," he agreed softly.

They worked in an awkward silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Finally, they finished the project and by the evening it was time to drop Abhira at her place.

Abhira was about to step out of the car when Armaan reached out, gently holding her wrist. "Abhira, can we be friends? Please?"

A small smile played on Abhira’s lips. "I'll think about it," she replied, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement.

Armaan's shoulders slumped slightly, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Okay, I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he said, his voice a little sad.

Abhira stepped out of the car then quickly headed towards her home, her mind buzzing with the day's events, leaving Armaan watching her go, the question hanging in the air between them.

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