BOOK ONE OF THE SWEET AND SOUR SERIES
Vanya Sharma hated marriages. Growing up seeing troubled and failed marriages carved a bitter spot in her heart, especially when one of them belonged to her parents. While escaping the shadows of her past, she f...
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༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ
𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐞
इश्क-ए दी गलियां तंग हैं, शर्मो शर्मि में बंद हैं ख़ुद से ख़ुद की कैसी ये जंग है
📓
M A H I R
She's glowing.
Not just in the soft streetlight, not just from the game-store afterglow, but from the inside. Like something cracked open and joy poured out, raw and unscripted.
She laughs again, and it isn't her usual tight-lipped version or the deflective kind. It's real. Loud and unselfconscious.
And for a second, I forget everything.
I forget the contract. The lies. The ridiculous plan we're tangled in.
Because in this moment, she isn't the girl who walked into my life with a razor-sharp tongue and arms crossed like armour. She's just... Vanya.
Holding a ridiculous lion plush. Looking up, like the sky might tell her a secret. Smiling like she doesn't know I'm staring.
I don't say anything. Can't, really.
Because if I open my mouth now, I might tell her the truth.
That I remember every single thing she tells me, even the ones she says in passing and forgets.
That I've never seen someone carry so much fear and fire in the same breath.
That I want to keep her like this.
Radiant. Unafraid. Mine.
But I say nothing.
Because she's still looking at the stars, and I'm still pretending I'm not falling in love.
📎
The world has gone still.
Somewhere behind us, the arcade glows in neon, soft and far away now. We're walking slower, laughing less, though not from discomfort. Just... tired in a good way. Like our muscles have finally caught up with the joy.
A turn down the path leads us into a garden I didn't even realise was part of the building. It's small. Overgrown in places. But quiet. The kind of quiet that wraps around your shoulders like a shawl.
The trees above are strung with warm yellow lights, flickering gently like fireflies caught in lace.
Vanya lets out a breath and sinks onto a wooden bench under the canopy. She hugs the lion plush to her chest like it might run off. Her cheeks are still flushed from laughter, strands of hair sticking to her temple, lips parted as if mid-thought.
