ℂ𝕆ℂ𝕂𝕋𝔸𝕀𝕃𝕊 𝕎𝕀𝕋ℍ ℂ𝕌ℙ𝕀𝔻

𝟴𝟱: 𝗙𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗚𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿

>>>>–––– 💘 ––––<<<<

Ananya sat cross-legged on the thick, velvety carpet, her sharp gaze fixed on Avi like he was some rare creature on display. In front of her, he handled the unopened bottle of his company's latest, unreleased high-class booze as though it were a holy relic. The way his fingers caressed the glass bottle, the reverence in his eyes, and the pride blooming on his face—it was almost weird.

Never, in all the time she'd known him, had she seen him beam with such childlike triumph. Not even when closing million-dollar deals or winning over investors. And here he was, grinning as if he had just magically produced this bottle with his own hands.

She tilted her head, judgment written all over her face. It was obvious she was judging him—silently, mercilessly. And she didn't even bother hiding it.

Avi popped the cork with unnecessary drama, poured the amber liquid carefully into two crystal glasses, and held one up against the light, admiring it like it was liquid gold. That meticulous smile of his tugged at the corner of his lips as he studied the color, the fragrance, the everything.

Then he glanced at her, his proud face instantly meeting her unimpressed side-eye. His brows drew together, offended.

What?

he demanded, as if her very stare had wounded him.

Ananya simply shook her head slowly, lips pressed into a thin line.

Onnum illa

(Nothing)

she said, her tone dripping with judgment anyway.

He narrowed his eyes but said nothing more, instead sliding one glass across the carpet toward her.

Indha try pannu

(Try it)

he said.

She accepted the glass without protest, lifted it, and took a small sip. The smoky warmth coated her throat, and she had to admit—it was good. Really good. Her taste buds were celebrating, but when she looked up, she found Avi leaning forward, eyes glued on her, practically bouncing in anticipation like a child showing his first drawing to his parents.

She blinked. He was waiting for her verdict.

Well?

he pressed, his voice urgent.

How is it? Smooth? Strong kick?

Ananya tilted her head, poker face in place.

Ennaku birthday gift'ah kondu vandingala illa enna vechu survey panna konduvandingala?

(Are you trying to use me as a survey more than giving me a birthday gift?)

Caught, Avi's eyebrows jumped. He tried to look casual, shaking his head furiously.

Illaye, apdila.... onnum illaye.

(No, I'm not.)

His tone was too quick, too defensive. She could see right through it.

Her smirk deepened. Sure, it was her birthday gift. But this man definitely wouldn't pass up an opportunity to get free market research from her too. Win-win for him.

He sipped his own glass, then another, and then another. She matched him, sip for sip. Soon the glasses emptied and refilled, emptied and refilled again. The warmth of the whiskey spread through them both, their bodies loosening, their laughter coming quicker. By the time they lost count of how many glasses had passed between them, their words were slurred and their judgment long gone.