Aria was at home, sitting in the middle of her living room. Around her were the things she and Zorvath had bought from the market—paints, brushes, small tools, and a few pieces of half-finished furniture. She was polishing one of them carefully, her movements slow and graceful.
Sunlight poured through the window, touching her face with a golden glow. Her skin shimmered softly, her blue eyes sparkled, and her silky hair swayed gently in the warm air.
Then—ding. The doorbell rang.
Aria looked up curiously, dipping her brush into the water and setting the frame aside. She stood, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked toward the door.
When she opened it, her eyes widened.
It was Zorvath.
He stood there, expression unreadable, but his voice carried both irritation and relief. "So, you're alive," he said dryly, brushing past her and stepping inside.
Aria blinked, startled, then closed the door behind him. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, turning around.
Zorvath frowned. "Did you forget you have responsibilities there?"
Before Aria could reply, he noticed the furniture scattered around—the paints, the brushes, the half-finished pieces. He paused, realization dawning on his face. Slowly, he turned back to her.
"You… were doing all this?" he asked, his voice softer now, somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
"Yeah, what else did you think I was doing?" Aria asked doubtfully.
Zorvath suddenly shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered—and then walked in.
"Where are you going?" Aria asked, confused.
Without answering, Zorvath walked straight to the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with a bowl full of jalebis.
Aria immediately snatched it from his hands. "Don't you have manners? This is mine! You're not getting a single bite!"
Zorvath took the bowl back from her, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he stepped closer. Aria backed up instinctively until she was trapped between the table and him. Their noses were almost touching when he said, in a low voice, "Is this your idea of manners? Not inviting your guest in, not serving anything? That's why I had to help myself."
Then, as casually as ever, he turned and walked back to the sofa, sitting down comfortably.
But his behavior left Aria tense. Her thoughts drifted back to that morning—Rithul's words echoing in her mind. Don't you love him?
She shook her head quickly, brushing the thought away, and returned to her spot, continuing to work on the frame.
From the sofa, Zorvath watched her quietly, admiring her. The sunlight kissed her face; her eyes gleamed, her silky hair shimmered softly. Slowly, he reached forward and brushed her hair back, tying it gently.
Aria frowned for a moment but didn't turn around. She knew that if she did—she would lose control.
Slowly, Zorvath got up from the sofa and sat on the floor beside her.
Aria ignored him, focusing on her work.
"What are you doing?" Zorvath asked.
Aria turned toward him, her face brightening as she began to explain. "Don't you remember these things?"
But as her eyes met his intense gaze, she quickly looked back at her frame and continued working.
"Those things we bought from the market that day?" she said, waiting for his reply.
After a moment of silence—still watching and admiring her every movement—Zorvath only hummed in response.
"I thought I should give them a finishing touch before setting these up in our café," Aria continued. "How about we set it up on Diwali?"
"Diwali?" Zorvath repeated.
"Yeah—your choice," Aria replied casually.
He looked at her for a moment, smiled, and said, "Your choice."
Then, after a pause, he added, "Should I help you with anything?"
Aria looked up at him, surprised. "Do you really mean that?"
Zorvath didn't answer.
Not seeing any response, Aria turned her face toward him. He was still looking at her.
"What?" she asked hesitantly.
Zorvath smiled softly. "I have something for you."
He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket. Aria watched curiously, her eyes following his movements. A moment later, he pulled out a delicate hairband made of flowers and gently placed it on her head.
For a moment, time seemed to pause. Aria looked like an angel. She gazed at Zorvath, not even blinking. Their eyes met, and silence filled the room.
Zorvath slowly leaned forward, closing the distance between them. But just a few inchs away from her lips, he turned his head slightly, bringing his mouth near her ear instead. His breath brushed against her skin as he whispered,
"When are you going to give me an answer?"
Aria blinked, startled. She leaned back slightly, confusion flickering across her face. Their eyes met again—close, but not too close.
"Answer for what?" she asked softly.
"For being my girlfriend," Zorvath said, his voice calm yet steady.
Aria tilted her head, a teasing smile forming on her lips. "Didn't you say my yes or no doesn't matter? That you'd already declared me as your girlfriend or something?"
Zorvath let out a quiet laugh. "You're a princess," he said. "And now, seeing you like this, I can't help but treat you like one. Who could ever force a princess?"
The word princess echoed in the air.
A single tear slipped from Aria's eye before she could stop it.
Zorvath's smile faded instantly. His shoulders stiffened, his expression tightening with concern.
Zorvath instantly cupped Aria's face in his hands. She looked up at him, her tear still glistening—soft, small, and fragile, like a little kitten caught in his palms.
"Are you okay, Aria?" he asked gently, his voice filled with concern. "Did I say something that hurt you?"
Aria gave a faint smile and shook her head. "No… I just thought about something I shouldn't have," she said quietly.
Zorvath opened his mouth to ask, "What?"—but before he could finish, a sudden crunch echoed through the room.
Both of them turned toward the door.
There stood Sona, Sreya, and Danvy.
Sona was in the middle, her eyes wide, almost popping out in shock. Danvy just stood there calmly, hands folded together, as if nothing unusual was happening. And Sreya—completely unfazed—was busy taking pictures with one hand while eating chips with the other.