Like or Love

Part - 12✨

Pooja POV :

Saturday afternoon felt brighter than usual. The sky was washed clean by the morning drizzle; the roads still glistened.

I checked the mirror twice, then laughed at myself. "It's just a project trip, Pooja, not a movie date," I muttered, tying my hair in a loose ponytail.

Downstairs, Aunty peeked from the kitchen. "Going with that classmate again? What's his name... Prem?"

I nodded. "Yes, Aunty. We have to buy fabric samples for the design project."

Uncle looked up from his newspaper. "Good, good. Don't let anyone overcharge you. Take the bill."

"Got it," I said, slipping on my sandals.

Aunty added with a knowing smile, "Call Aashish and tell him you'll be late, or he'll start pacing like a worried cat again."

I laughed. "He's not that bad!"

But when I texted him-

'Going to the market with Prem for project stuff. Back by 7.'

His reply came instantly.

'Which market?'

'Lajpat Nagar.'

'Okay. Drive safe.'

It seemed calm, but I could almost see his frown through the text.
Prem POV :

The market was bustling-colors, fabrics, people arguing over prices.

"Okay, Pooja," I said, holding my notebook like a commander. "We need raw silk, cotton, and chiffon swatches. Ready?"

She nodded, her eyes already darting to the displays.

We walked from one shop to another. She was completely in her element-running her fingers across fabrics, matching shades with her sketchbook.

"This shade of coral looks perfect," she said softly.

I watched her smile, that quiet sparkle in her eyes, and said, "You've got a designer's eye, for sure."

She just smiled shyly, brushing hair off her face.

At one stall, I tried bargaining. "Bhaiya, ₹250 per meter is robbery!"

The shopkeeper shrugged. "Quality ka rate hai, sir."

Before I could argue more, Pooja stepped in, smiled sweetly, and said, "Bhaiya, thoda kam kijiye na. Hum students hain."

And just like that, the price dropped to ₹180.

I stared. "How did you do that?"

She grinned. "Magic. And good manners."

Aashish POV :

Meanwhile at the studio, my foot wouldn't stop tapping.

"Bro, stop pacing like a detective," Santhosh said, stuffing chips in his mouth. "She's not on a secret mission."

"She's out with Prem," I muttered.

"So? Maybe he's just helping."

"Yeah, helping her carry fabric while flirting!"

Santhosh smirked. "Jealousy level: 9000."

"Shut up."

I tried to focus on choreography, but after ten minutes of tripping over my own feet, I grabbed my keys.

"I'll be back," I said.

Santhosh called after me, "Where are you going?"

"Market research!" I yelled, and bolted out.