ℂ𝕆ℂ𝕂𝕋𝔸𝕀𝕃𝕊 𝕎𝕀𝕋ℍ ℂ𝕌ℙ𝕀𝔻

𝟴𝟰: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗲 𝗢𝘂𝗿 𝗞𝗶𝘀𝘀

>>>>–––– 💘 ––––<<<<

Mithra returned to the spot where Shakthi was waiting, her mind still tangled up in knots. Every step back from the car carried with it the echo of Anjali’s cryptic words. She sank into the sand beside him with a long sigh, scratching her head in frustration. The cool tender coconut in her hands gave her something to hold on to, but not even its sweetness could untangle the confusion swirling inside her chest. Anjali’s voice played over and over in her head, her final smile, her vanishing… none of it made sense. For someone who usually had an answer for everything, Mithra felt helplessly adrift in this moment.

She pressed the straw between her lips and sipped slowly, eyes narrowing without her realizing. Beside her, Shakthi looked anything but calm.

Her gaze slid toward him, and that was when she caught it—the way his throat moved as he gulped down his drink a little too quickly, as if the coconut water was suddenly the only thing keeping him alive. His eyes darted everywhere but at her, as though the stretch of beach had suddenly turned into a battlefield.

Mithra frowned deeper.

Nee yen oru madhiri irukae?

(Why do you look weird?)

she asked, her voice quiet but piercing.

He jolted, coughing slightly on his drink before hurriedly shaking his head.

Apdhilam onnu illaye

(No, no, nothing like that)

he blurted, forcing a smile that looked as fragile as glass about to shatter.

Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, suspicion etched in their depths, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she raised her coconut again, taking another measured sip. But that didn’t mean she didn’t see him. She saw everything.

The way his leg kept tapping the sand beneath him, restless and uneven. The way his shoulders seemed stiff, like he was trying too hard to sit naturally. And most of all, the way his hand clutched at the coconut—his knuckles turning pale, his grip so tight that if his hands had been just a fraction stronger, the poor fruit would have been crushed into pieces.

Mithra arched an eyebrow but chose silence. She simply shook her head with a sigh, letting the straw rest on her lips again, and looked back toward the shore.

Shakthi, on the other hand, was waging his own private war. Inside, he mentally chided himself again and again. Normal. Be normal. Just act like nothing happened. Don’t give anything away. But his body wasn’t listening. His foot tapped on, his chest felt too tight, and every glance Mithra gave him felt like a magnifying glass burning straight through his skull.

He had to distract himself, anything to drag his mind away from the weight of her presence. His other hand that Mithra can't see, swivelled in the air and his cupid-pad rested on his palm, the faint glow of its screen became his salvation.

He flicked it open, breathing out a little more steadily now. The familiar sight of the display grounded him. This was work, his assignment, his reason for even being here.

Focus, he reminded himself. Focus on what matters. Avi and Ananya. Their chemistry. Their progress.

He opened the app that would show Avi and Ananya's chemistry, mentally hoping it was improving but what he saw was unexpected.

403’s eyes widened so suddenly it was as if the world had just cracked open before him. His breath hitched, his heart lurched, and he froze, staring at the glowing wave on the cupid-pad as though it had turned into a miracle.