The next evening, as they wrapped up work, Astha turned to Arin just as they stepped out of the office.
“I have some errands to run for my family. You don’t have to wait. I’ll take an auto home,” she said matter-of-factly, already fishing her phone out of her bag to book a ride.
Arin, who had been walking beside her, stopped. “I don’t mind waiting.”
Astha paused and gave him a flat look. “You realize that could take hours? I have to go to the pharmacy, the grocery store, and pick up something for Shanaya. I won’t be quick.”
“It’s fine,” Arin said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ll wait.”
Astha narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you one of those people who thinks chivalry means making life inconvenient for yourself? Because, just so you know, I am perfectly capable of—”
“It’s not chivalry,” Arin interrupted smoothly. “It’s efficiency. You’ll already be exhausted after running around. It makes sense for me to drive you home rather than have you wait for an auto.”
Astha sighed and shook her head. “You know, for someone who claims to be efficient, you really like making things more complicated than they need to be.”
Arin smiled. “I could say the same about you.”
Astha exhaled in mild exasperation but didn’t argue further. “Fine. But don’t complain when I make you carry grocery bags.”
“Duly noted,” Arin replied, his expression unreadable, but his eyes glinting with amusement.
And so, for the first time, Arin found himself tagging along with Astha, watching her navigate the small, everyday routines of her life—things that were unremarkable to her but utterly fascinating to him.
As they went from one shop to another, Arin observed something unexpected. Astha had a way with people, a quiet charisma that wasn’t forced but felt entirely natural. At the pharmacy, the staff greeted her with familiarity, and within moments, she had the usually gruff pharmacist chuckling at one of her wry remarks.
At the grocery store, she bantered with the vendor, making light-hearted complaints about the price of vegetables while deftly convincing him to give her the freshest produce at a discount. “Come on, Bhaiya, I practically keep your shop running. The least you can do is not charge me extra for looking like I have expensive taste.”
The man laughed, shaking his head. “Aap toh humesha jeet jaati hain, Astha Madam. (You always win, Astha Madam.)”
“Well, someone has to,” she said with a dramatic sigh, making the vendor chuckle even more.
Arin watched, marveling at this side of her. He had always known her as sharp, reserved, sometimes distant. But here, surrounded by familiar faces, she was warm, kind, and—dare he say it—charming. She made people laugh, not in an over-the-top way, but with quiet, clever humor that seemed to disarm even the most reluctant of souls.
By the time they reached the final stop, Arin found himself carrying half her bags, despite his earlier amusement at her threat. “This was planned from the start, wasn’t it?” he asked dryly.
Astha smiled. “I make people do my bidding by being nice to them. Works every time.”
Arin shook his head, amused. “Noted. I’ll have to be more cautious next time.”
She tilted her head. “Or you could just accept that you’re doomed like everyone else who knows me.”
For the first time in a long time, Arin didn’t mind the idea of being ‘doomed.’
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