"I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you
I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you"
~ Daylight – Taylor Swift
~Three weeks later~
Being in a relationship was strange.
Not bad strange. Just... different. New.
I kept expecting something to go wrong. For Aadyant to wake up one day and realize dating someone with my baggage was too much. For the other shoe to drop.
But it never did.
Instead, he showed up every morning with coffee. Texted me throughout the day just to check in. Held my hand in public without hesitation. Introduced me as his girlfriend with this pride in his voice that made my chest warm.
"You're doing that thing again," Aadya observed during lunch. We'd started having regular lunch dates, just the two of us. Apparently, dating her brother meant gaining a protective twin sister.
"What thing?"
"The waiting-for-disaster thing. Your shoulders are up by your ears."
I consciously relaxed them. "I'm not—okay, maybe I am. A little."
"Kashvi, my brother is disgustingly in love with you. Like, it's actually gross how much he talks about you when you're not around."
"He does?"
"Oh God, yes. 'Kashvi said this funny thing today.' 'Did you see what Kashvi was wearing?' 'Kashvi smiled at me and I forgot how to function.'" She mimicked his voice. "It's nauseating."
Despite myself, I smiled. "Really?"
"Really. So stop waiting for him to leave. He's not going anywhere."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm his twin. I know him better than anyone. And I've never seen him like this. You're it for him, Kashvi."
My throat felt tight. "That's terrifying."
"Welcome to love. It's supposed to be terrifying."
~
"Okay, I need help," I told Vihaan and Shivansh during our study session.
Kashvi was in class, and I'd called an emergency meeting with the guys.
"Finally admitting you need tutoring in Economics?" Vihaan grinned.
"Not that. I need help with Kashvi."
Both of them immediately perked up.
"What's wrong?" Shivansh asked, concerned.
"Nothing's wrong. Everything's actually perfect. That's the problem."
"How is that a problem?"
"Because I want to do something special for her. Something that shows her how much she means to me. But I don't know what. She doesn't really like big gestures, and I don't want to overwhelm her—"
"You're overthinking," Vihaan interrupted. "What does she like?"
"Fashion. Design. Her guitar. Coffee. Me, apparently."
"So do something with one of those things."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, man. Take her to a fabric store? A concert? Make her breakfast? You know her better than we do."
He was right. I did know her.
She liked small, meaningful things. Not grand gestures. Things that showed I paid attention.
"I have an idea," I said slowly.
"Is it good?"
"I think so. But I'm going to need help."
~
~Thursday Evening~
"I have a surprise for you," Aadyant said after picking me up from class.
"I don't like surprises."
"You'll like this one. Trust me."
"That's what people always say before terrible surprises."
"Have I ever given you a terrible surprise?"
"No, but there's always a first time."
He smiled, pulling into a parking garage. "Close your eyes."
"Aadyant—"
"Please? Just trust me."
I sighed but closed my eyes. Felt him take my hand, guide me out of the car. We walked for a minute, then stopped.
"Okay. Open."
I opened my eyes and gasped.
We were in what looked like a private studio space. But it had been transformed. Fabric samples covered one wall—organized by color and texture. A dress form stood in the corner. A large table was covered with sketching supplies, scissors, measuring tape, all brand new.
"What is this?"
"Your design studio. Well, for tonight at least. I rented it for four hours." He looked nervous. "I know you've been wanting to work on new pieces but you don't have space at home, and the campus studios are always crowded, so I thought—is this okay? Is it too much? I can cancel if it's—"
I kissed him. Cut off his rambling with my lips on his.
When we pulled apart, he looked dazed.
"I'm taking that as a yes?"
"This is perfect. How did you—how did you even think of this?"
"Because I pay attention. You mentioned weeks ago that you wished you had more space to work. And you're always stressed about sharing the campus studios." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to give you that. Space to create without pressure."
"Aadyant Rathore, I love you."
"I love you too. Now go. Create something. I'll be over here doing homework and staying out of your way."
"You're staying?"
"If you want me to. Or I can leave—"
"Stay. Please."
The next few hours were perfect. I lost myself in designing, in the feel of fabric under my fingers, in the flow of creativity. And Aadyant sat in the corner, working on his laptop, occasionally looking up to watch me with this soft expression that made my heart flip.
"You're staring," I said without looking up from my sketch.
"Can you blame me? You're beautiful when you're in your element."
"I'm covered in thread and probably have charcoal on my face."
"Still beautiful."
~
Watching Kashvi create was mesmerizing.
She was completely in her element—focused, confident, alive in a way she wasn't in most other situations. This was where she belonged. Creating. Building. Making beauty from raw materials.
"Aadyant?" She'd stopped working, looking at me with this expression I couldn't quite read.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you so good to me?"
"What do you mean?"
"This. The studio. Driving me to therapy. Showing up every day. Why? What do you get out of it?"
I set down my laptop and walked over to her.
"I get to be with you. I get to see you smile. I get to watch you heal and grow and become more yourself every day. I get to love you." I cupped her face gently. "That's not a sacrifice, my love. That's a privilege."
"Even when I'm difficult? When I have bad days?"
"Especially then. Because that's when you need me most. And being needed by you—being trusted by you—that's everything."
She kissed me then, and it was different from our other kisses. Deeper. More certain. Like she was finally starting to believe this was real.
"Thank you," she whispered against my lips.
"For what?"
"For seeing me. All of me. And staying."
"Always. That's not going to change."
~
~Saturday~
"I got an email from my father," I told Dr. Patel during our session.
"How do you feel about that?"
"Conflicted. He apologized. Said he's been in therapy. Said he understands what they did wrong." I paused. "He wants to talk. Video call or phone, my choice."
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. Part of me wants to hear him out. But another part is scared of getting hurt again."
"Both those feelings are valid. You don't have to decide right now."
"That's what Aadyant said."
"How are things with Aadyant?"
I couldn't help smiling. "Good. Really good. He rented me a design studio last week. Just for the evening, so I could work without distractions."
"That's very thoughtful."
"He's very thoughtful. It's almost annoying how thoughtful he is."
"Almost?"
"Okay, it's not annoying at all. It's perfect. He's perfect. Which is terrifying."
"Why terrifying?"
"Because perfect things don't last. Do they?"
"Kashvi, you're catastrophizing again. Aadyant has shown you, consistently, that he's committed to this relationship. That he loves you. What evidence do you have that he's going to leave?"
"None. Logically, I have no evidence. But the fear is still there."
"Then we keep working on it. Keep challenging those thoughts. Keep building evidence against them."
After therapy, I sat in Aadyant's car for a long moment.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked.
"My dad emailed. Wants to talk."
"And?"
"And I don't know what to do."
"What does your gut say?"
"My gut says I should at least hear him out. But my brain says it's a trap."
"Then listen to both. Hear him out, but with boundaries. You're in control here, Kashvi. You get to decide the terms."
"Will you be there? When I call him?"
"If you want me there, I'll be there."
"I want you there."
"Then I'll be there."
~
~Sunday Evening~
I'd arranged the call for Sunday at 7 PM. Video call, so I could see his face. Aadyant sitting next to me, just out of frame but holding my hand.
When my father's face appeared on screen, I barely recognized him. He looked older. Tired. Sad.
"Kashvi, beta. Thank you for calling."
"Don't call me that. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
"Fair enough." He nodded. "I wanted to—I need to apologize. Really apologize. For everything."
"I'm listening."
"Your mother told me about your meeting. About what you said. About—" His voice broke. "About the suicide attempt. Kashvi, I'm so sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry."
"Sorry doesn't change what happened."
"I know. I know it doesn't. But I need you to understand—I was wrong. Completely, utterly wrong. We failed you in every way parents can fail a child."
"Why?" The question burst out. "Why did you send me away? Why did you make me feel like it was my fault?"
"Because I didn't know how to handle it. I was raised in a world where these things—attacks, trauma—they're shameful. They're hidden. And I was so focused on protecting you from gossip, from judgment, that I didn't see I was the one judging you. I was the one making you feel ashamed."
Tears were streaming down my face. "I needed you. I needed my father. And you weren't there."
"I know. And I will regret that for the rest of my life." He wiped at his own eyes. "Your mother and I, we've been in therapy. Separately and together. Trying to understand where we went wrong. Trying to be better."
"Too late to be better for me."
"I know. But maybe—maybe not too late to try. To build something new. Not what we had before, but something honest. Something real."
"I don't know if I can trust you again."
"I don't expect you to. Not right away. But Kashvi, if you're willing to try—to give us a chance to prove we've changed—I promise we'll earn it. Slowly. With patience. With consistency."
He sounded like Aadyant. Like someone who understood that trust was earned, not demanded.
"I need time to think about it."
"Take all the time you need. We're not going anywhere."
After we hung up, I sat in silence for a long moment.
"How do you feel?" Aadyant asked gently.
"I don't know. Sad? Hopeful? Angry that I'm feeling hopeful?"
"All of that makes sense."
"Do you think I should give them another chance?"
"I think you should do whatever feels right for you. Not for them. For you."
"What would you do?"
"I'd probably give them one chance. With very clear boundaries. But I'm not you, and my parents didn't hurt me the way yours hurt you."
"One chance," I repeated. "With boundaries."
"And I'll be there every step of the way. If they hurt you again, we deal with it together."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
~
~One Week Later~
Things had settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Kashvi was doing better. Really better. The panic attacks were rare now. She apologized less. Smiled more.
We'd fallen into routines—morning coffee, therapy Tuesdays, movie nights with the group, quiet evenings just the two of us.
It felt right. Natural. Like we'd been doing this for years instead of weeks.
"You're thinking too loud," Kashvi said. We were at the penthouse, studying together. Or supposed to be studying. I'd been watching her instead.
"Sorry. Just thinking about how lucky I am."
"Cheesy."
"But true."
She set down her pencil. "Aadyant?"
"Yeah?"
"I've been thinking about something. And I want your honest opinion."
"Okay."
"I'm thinking about giving my parents a real chance. Not just one call. But actually trying. With boundaries and therapy and everything. But really trying."
"How do you feel about that?"
"Scared. But also—I don't know. Hopeful? Like maybe they really have changed. Like maybe I could have parents again."
"Then I think you should try. But carefully. And I'll be there the whole time."
"You're not worried it'll be too much? That I'll be dealing with family stuff and be a mess?"
"Kashvi, you're allowed to have feelings. You're allowed to be messy while you work through this. That's what I'm here for."
"Even if I'm annoying about it?"
"Especially if you're annoying about it."
She smiled. "I love you."
"I love you too."
"No, I mean—" She took a breath. "I love you in a way that scares me. In a way that makes me think about the future. About us having a future."
My heart started pounding. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Is that—is that okay? Am I moving too fast?"
"You're not moving too fast. I've been thinking about our future since the day I met you."
"Really?"
"Really. I'm all in, Kashvi. For as long as you'll have me."
"What if I want forever?"
"Then forever it is."
She kissed me, and it felt like a promise. Like the beginning of something that could actually last.
~
~One Month Later~
The moving-in conversation happened on a Tuesday.
We were at the penthouse after therapy, eating takeout and watching some documentary Aadya had been obsessed with, when she suddenly turned to me.
"Okay, I've been thinking about something and I need to say it before I lose my nerve."
"That's ominous," I said.
"Move in with us."
I choked on my noodles.
"What?"
"Move in. Here. With Aadyant and me." She said it like it was simple. Like it wasn't the most terrifying and wonderful thing anyone had ever suggested. "Before you say no—hear me out. You're here almost every day anyway. Your stuff is scattered between here and your Bua's place. You have your own coffee mug in our cabinet. You've rearranged the kitchen twice and honestly it's better now so we don't even mind."
"Aadya—"
"Also, her work schedule is getting more intense. She's barely home. And I know you don't love being alone, even though you pretend you do. And we have the guest room that's basically yours already—"
"Aadya."
"What?"
"Breathe."
She stopped, took a breath. "Sorry. I just really want you to move in. Is that weird? Is it too fast?"
I looked at Aadyant, who had been suspiciously quiet this whole time.
"You knew about this."
"I may have suggested it to Aadya."
"May have?"
"Okay, definitely suggested it. But I wanted her to ask because I didn't want you to feel pressured." He put down his takeout container. "Kashvi, you don't have to. There's zero pressure. But you're here all the time anyway, and we like having you here, and—"
"Yes."
Both twins went silent.
"Yes?" Aadya said.
"Yes, I'll move in. If Bua's okay with it." I looked at Aadyant. "And if you're sure. Both of you."
"We're sure," they said simultaneously.
"Okay then." I looked around the penthouse—at the place that had slowly started feeling like home. "I'll move in."
Aadya screamed so loud the neighbors probably heard.
~
Moving Kashvi in took one weekend.
She didn't have much—a duffel bag of clothes, her guitar, her sketchbooks, her fabric samples, her carefully organized medical supplies (inhaler, anxiety medication, the emergency kit she never went anywhere without).
But watching her things settle into our space felt significant. Important.
Kritika Aunty had been surprisingly supportive, though she'd given me a very intense fifteen-minute talk about "taking care of her niece" that I took extremely seriously.
"She'll have her own room," I'd promised. "Her own space. Her own privacy."
"I know you'll take care of her," she had said finally. "Just... be patient with her. Some days are harder than others."
"I know. I've seen the hard days. They don't scare me."
"Good." She'd nodded. "Good."
The first night Kashvi officially lived with us, she stood in the middle of what was now her room—the guest room transformed with her sketches on the walls, her guitar in the corner, her books on the shelves—and looked around with this expression I couldn't quite read.
"You okay?" I asked from the doorway.
"Yeah." She turned to me. "I've never had a space that felt like mine. Even in India, my room was just... a room. But this—" She gestured around. "This feels like me."
"Because it is you. We wanted it to feel like yours."
"Thank you. I'm sor—" She stopped herself. "I mean. Thank you."
"Better." I smiled. "Welcome home, my love."
She crossed the room and hugged me, and I held her for a long moment.
"Welcome home," she said quietly, like she was trying out the words.
Like she was starting to believe them.
~
FOLLOW ME!! 😄
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