FF: Always You - Chapter 3 - Not for anyone else Updated

Always You

Character Sketch

Maan Singh Khurana, aged 15: Intelligent, disciplined and confident. Yash’s best friend and Meera’s older brother, and naturally the more responsible one of the group.

Geet Handa, aged 12: Mischievous, lively and food-loving. Yash’s younger sister and Meera’s best friend, she is usually the most playful of the group.

Yash Handa, aged 15: Easy-going, loyal and protective. Geet’s older brother and Maan’s best friend.

Aditya, aged 14: Playful, cheeky and mischievous. Geet and Yash’s cousin, but raised alongside them as their brother.

Meera Khurana, aged 12: Bright, sensible and studious. Maan’s younger sister and Geet’s best friend.

Rajveer Khurana, aged 43: Maan and Meera’s father. Successful, disciplined and respected, he is the founder and Principal Architect of Khurana Architects and a long-time friend and business partner of Mohinder.

Avantika Khurana, aged 40: Maan and Meera’s mother. Elegant, warm and successful, she is a fashion designer who runs her own clothing label and boutiques while remaining closely involved with her family.

Mohinder Handa, aged 43: Geet and Yash’s father and Aditya’s father figure. Hardworking, practical and family-orientated, he is the founder and Managing Director of Handa Developments and works closely with Rajveer.

Pammi Handa, aged 40: Geet and Yash’s mother and Aditya’s guardian. Warm, nurturing and energetic, she runs Handa Catering and is deeply devoted to all three children.

Index

Chapter 1 - below

Chapter 1 - Ladoo

There had never really been a Khurana family without the Handas, or a Handa family without the Khuranas. Their friendship had started long before their children were born, back when Rajveer Khurana and Mohinder Handa had been two ambitious young men trying to establish themselves in industries where reputation mattered almost as much as talent.

Rajveer had built Khurana Architects from a modest architectural practice into one of Delhi’s most respected firms, specialising in luxury residential developments, hotels and commercial spaces, while Mohinder had taken a different route by building Handa Developments into a successful property development and construction company. Rajveer designed the buildings, while Mohinder brought them to life, and although that arrangement should have turned them into competitors eventually, it instead became the foundation of their partnership.

Over the years, the Khurana and Handa names appeared beside one another on countless projects, with Rajveer’s company handling the architectural vision, planning and design while Mohinder’s company managed development, construction and delivery. Somewhere between late-night meetings, impossible deadlines, successful projects and enough disagreements to last several lifetimes, the two men had become closer than business partners. Their wives had followed almost naturally.

Avantika Khurana had never been interested in sitting at home simply because her husband was successful, so she built her own name as a fashion designer and eventually opened boutiques under her label, becoming known for elegant Indian clothing that combined traditional craftsmanship with modern designs.

Pammi Handa was equally incapable of remaining idle, and her love for cooking, which had begun inside her own kitchen, eventually grew into a catering company that handled everything from intimate celebrations to enormous weddings and corporate events.

The women became best friends in their own right, and when their children began arriving, the bond between the two families only grew stronger. Maan was the first, followed by Yash and then Aditya, while Meera came next and Geet arrived last, three years after Maan.

Aditya was Geet’s cousin, the son of Pammi’s brother. After his parents died when he was young, Mohinder and Pammi had brought him into their home and raised him as their own. He had grown up alongside Geet, Yash, Maan and Meera, and although everyone knew he was Geet’s cousin, nobody treated him as anything less than a brother.

Geet was the youngest and the loudest, and according to Maan Singh Khurana, she was unquestionably the most irritating person he had ever met, although he had been saying that since they were old enough to understand him.

Their parents had raised them almost as one extended family, which meant that weekends blurred between the Khurana and Handa homes, holidays were planned together, birthdays involved both families and there were spare clothes, forgotten toothbrushes and bedrooms that the children entered without knocking because the idea of asking permission had disappeared years ago.

Rajveer and Mohinder could be demanding businessmen outside their homes, but neither brought that coldness back to their children. Rajveer might spend twelve hours arguing over a multimillion-pound development, only to return home and listen to Meera give him a detailed explanation of an argument she had with her friend as though nothing in his day had been more important.

Mohinder was exactly the same. Meetings could wait if Yash needed him, and calls could be ignored when Geet climbed onto his lap demanding his attention.

Avantika and Pammi were no different. Although their careers mattered to them, their children never questioned whether they mattered more.

Perhaps that was why the five of them had grown up so secure in one another, or perhaps, in Geet and Maan’s case, they had simply become secure enough to torment each other without mercy.

“Move, ladoo.”

Nine-year-old Geet Handa stopped halfway through taking another spoonful of kheer and slowly turned her head towards Maan, who stood behind her with his arms folded across his chest.

At twelve, Maan already possessed an irritating amount of confidence. He was taller than most boys his age, serious when he wanted to be and far too convinced that he knew better than everyone around him. Teachers adored him because he was intelligent, adults praised him because he was responsible and his father trusted him because Maan rarely needed telling anything twice.

Geet thought they had all been fooled because she knew the truth: Maan Singh Khurana was horrible.

She narrowed her eyes, deliberately took another enormous spoonful and pointed towards the table.

“There is space.”

“There isn’t,” Maan insisted. “Not when you’re standing there.”

Yash immediately started laughing from the dining table, while Aditya covered his mouth, already knowing what was coming. Meera looked up from her book with a sigh.

“Maan, leave Geet alone,” she said.

“I haven’t done anything,” Maan replied innocently as he reached around Geet for a glass.

Geet deliberately moved so he could not reach it. When Maan shifted in the opposite direction, she blocked him again.

“Geet.”

“Maan.”

“Move.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You’re taking up the whole table.”

Geet gasped and turned towards Yash with an indignant cry.

“Bhai!”

Yash raised both hands immediately.

“Don’t involve me.”

“He called me fat again!” Geet accused.

“I didn’t call you fat,” Maan corrected as he finally managed to reach the glass. “I said you’re taking up the whole table, and you decided what that meant.”

Aditya burst out laughing, which made Geet turn towards him with her mouth open in disbelief.

“What?”

Aditya attempted to look innocent between laughs.

“He has a point.”

“You are all horrible,” Geet declared before shoving another spoonful of kheer into her mouth.

Maan stared at her bowl.

“Is that your third serving?”

Geet pulled it protectively against her chest.

“Why are you counting?”

“I’m concerned for the kheer,” he replied.

Yash nearly choked on his drink.

“Maan!” Meera complained as she threw a cushion at her brother.

He caught it easily with one hand.

Geet glared at all three boys before looking down at herself, because she knew she was bigger than Meera and everyone else knew it too.

Geet had always been a chubby child, with round cheeks, a soft little stomach and an appetite that Pammi claimed could single-handedly keep her catering company profitable. She loved food, hated running unless somebody was chasing her and considered any game involving unnecessary physical effort a personal attack.

Usually, she did not care because she liked herself, although she liked food even more. Unfortunately, the boys had discovered very early that her weight was the easiest way to annoy her, and Maan was by far the worst.

“One day I’m going to become very skinny,” Geet announced as she pointed her spoon at him. “Then what will you call me?”

Maan considered the question seriously.

“Short.”

Geet stared at him while Meera laughed and quickly hid her face behind her book when Geet turned towards her.

“You too?”

“Sorry,” Meera mumbled, still laughing.

Geet placed her bowl down dramatically.

“Nobody loves me in this house.”

“Who doesn’t love my princess?” Mohinder asked as he walked into the dining room.

Geet’s entire expression transformed.

“Papa!”

She ran towards him, and Mohinder barely had time to put his briefcase aside before she crashed into him and wrapped both arms around his waist.

“Maan is bullying me,” she informed him.

Mohinder looked over her head towards Maan.

“Again?”

“I wasn’t bullying her, Uncle,” Maan replied.

“He called me ladoo.”

Mohinder’s lips twitched, but Geet pulled away immediately and accused him of laughing.

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

Mohinder quickly controlled his expression and cupped her round face between his hands.

“Nobody is laughing at my beautiful girl.”

Maan made a coughing sound behind them, which caused Geet to narrow her eyes while Mohinder pointed towards him without looking.

“Leave my daughter alone.”

“Tell her to stop eating my mother’s kheer.”

“It’s Auntie’s kheer,” Geet snapped as she returned to the table. “Not yours.”

“My house.”

“My auntie.”

“My mother.”

“She loves me more.”

That made Maan pause, and Avantika chose that exact moment to enter the room.

Geet immediately ran towards her.

“Auntie, who do you love more, me or Maan?”

Avantika looked between them while Maan stared at his mother with a warning expression.

“Choose carefully.”

Avantika smiled sweetly.

“Geet.”

Maan stared at her in disbelief while Geet squealed in triumph.

Avantika kissed Geet’s forehead before looking at her son.

“Geet doesn’t argue with me.”

“She argues with everyone!”

“Not me.”

“Because you feed her!”

Geet’s victory disappeared as she shouted Maan’s name, but he was already running.

“Maan!”

Geet chased him around the dining table while Yash and Aditya shouted encouragement that changed sides every few seconds.

Meera attempted to continue reading for approximately twenty seconds before giving up when Geet grabbed one of the cushions and launched it towards Maan.

The cushion missed Maan completely and hit Rajveer instead.

The entire room went silent as Rajveer stood at the entrance with the cushion at his feet.

Geet and Maan froze. Yash immediately looked down, Aditya suddenly found the ceiling fascinating and Meera hid behind her book.

Rajveer looked at the cushion before slowly lifting his gaze towards the children.

“Who?”

Maan pointed at Geet, while Geet pointed at Maan.

“He moved!” Geet defended herself.

“She threw it!”

“Because you called me fat!”

“I called you ladoo.”

“Same thing!”

Rajveer stared at them for several seconds before shaking his head.

“I’m going back to work.”

Avantika laughed as her husband turned around. Rajveer muttered to Mohinder as he passed him,

“Take me with you. We’ll sleep at the office.”

Mohinder followed him while laughing.

“You say that every weekend.”

“And every weekend I mean it,” Rajveer replied.

Their voices disappeared down the hallway while the children immediately resumed arguing, because it had always been like that.

Maan and Yash were best friends despite being from different families, while Aditya had attached himself to both of them so completely that nobody remembered a time when he had not been around. He was Geet’s cousin, but he was also her brother in every way that mattered.

Meera and Geet were the same. Although there were other friends at school, other cousins and other people who came and went, Meera was Geet’s person. They shared everything, including clothes, secrets, food, homework and punishments, as well as the blame whenever only one of them had actually done something wrong.

There were occasions when their alliances shifted. Meera would betray Geet for Maan when she wanted something from her brother, Yash would defend Geet until she annoyed him and then hand her directly over to Maan, while Aditya remained loyal to whoever was most entertaining at the time.

But Maan and Geet were different because their relationship had never required an alliance. They simply existed in one another’s space.

He annoyed her because he could, while she followed him because she knew it annoyed him. He hid her chocolates, she changed the alarm on his phone, he pulled her plaits, she told Avantika when he swore, he called her ladoo and she called him Dusht Danav after hearing the phrase in one of Pammi’s television serials and deciding that no description had ever suited another human being better.

Somewhere amongst all of it was an attachment neither of them noticed because it had existed for too long to require explanation.

If Geet fell, she called for Maan almost as quickly as she called for Yash. If Maan came to the Handa house while Geet was absent, he noticed.

If somebody outside their group laughed at her weight, Maan’s amusement disappeared. He could call her ladoo, but nobody else could.

Geet discovered that distinction when she was eleven.

They were leaving school one afternoon when two older boys walked past them, and one of them muttered,

“Move, fatty.”

Geet stopped.

The word itself was not new because Maan said worse almost every day, but hearing it from a stranger felt different, so she moved quietly.

The boy managed two steps before Maan caught his shoulder.

“What did you call her?”

Geet looked up while the boy turned around.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Maan replied.

His voice had changed because there was no teasing now and no smirk.

Yash immediately moved closer while Aditya muttered,

“Here we go.”

The boy looked towards Geet and laughed.

“I told her to move, fatty.”

Maan shoved him hard.

“Maan!” Geet exclaimed as the boy stumbled backwards.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the boy snapped.

“Apologise.”

“For what?”

Maan stepped forward again.

“Apologise to her.”

Yash caught his arm before the situation became worse.

“Leave it, Maan.”

“No.”

Geet stared at him in complete confusion because this was the same boy who had called her ladoo before breakfast and had once rolled an actual round ladoo-shaped ball towards her while telling everyone that he had found her twin.

Yet his face now looked thunderous because somebody else had said one word.

The older boy eventually muttered an apology, more interested in leaving than continuing the argument, and Maan watched him disappear before turning around.

Geet folded her arms.

“You’re mental.”

Maan frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“You call me fat all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it is.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

Geet stared at him before looking towards Meera.

“Your brother has problems.”

Meera nodded solemnly.

“We’ve known for years, bhai.”

Maan glared at his sister while Geet smiled despite herself.

She did not understand Maan then, and perhaps Maan did not understand himself either.

At twelve and fifteen, they still existed comfortably inside the roles childhood had given them. Geet was the noisy, round-faced menace who ate from everybody’s plate and somehow still complained that she was starving, while Maan was the controlled, intelligent and arrogant boy who believed responsibility had somehow made him an authority over everyone three years younger than him.

He expected Geet to remain exactly as she was: his ladoo, his favourite person to annoy and the girl who would run behind him demanding that he explain her maths homework after spending twenty minutes insisting that she hated him.

He did not know that Geet Handa was already beginning to change, and the first change had nothing to do with her weight.

It happened over a maths paper.

Geet stared at the large red 42% written across the top and felt something unfamiliar settle inside her, especially when she noticed that Meera, sitting beside her, had scored 78.

Geet did not feel jealous; she felt embarrassed. Not because anybody laughed, since nobody did, but because she knew she had not tried.

She had spent the previous evening watching television, ignored Meera’s messages asking whether she wanted to revise and told herself that she was simply bad at maths because that was what everybody expected from her anyway.

Then she had failed again.

Meera leaned closer and promised that they would study together for the next test.

“Properly,” she added, holding out her little finger. “I’ll help you with maths, and you help me with English.”

Geet linked their fingers.

“Deal.”

That afternoon, Maan arrived at the Handa house with Aditya while looking for Yash, but instead he found the girls at the dining table with books covering almost every inch of it.

Maan stopped, but Geet did not look up.

He walked further into the room, yet she still did not react, even though she usually noticed him before he had removed his shoes.

“Where’s Yash?” he asked.

“Upstairs,” Meera replied as she highlighted something in her textbook.

Maan glanced towards Geet, who was staring at an equation with such concentration that her brows had pulled together.

“What are you doing?”

“Maths.”

Maan almost laughed.

“Are you doing it voluntarily?”

Geet finally looked at him without outrage, a dramatic insult or a cushion thrown at his head.

“Yes,” she replied before looking back down.

Maan stood there for a second longer than necessary.

“Why?”

“Because I got 42%.”

He waited for the excuse, but it did not come. Instead, Geet erased something and tried the equation again.

“I want 80 next time.”

Maan’s amusement faded slightly as he leaned over the table and examined her calculation.

“That’s wrong.”

Geet’s pencil stopped.

Maan pointed towards the middle of the equation.

“You changed the sign. That’s why the answer is wrong.”

Geet looked at the calculation again.

“Oh.”

She erased it.

Maan expected her to hand him the pencil, but she did not. Instead, she corrected the sign herself and continued working until she reached the answer a minute later.

Her entire face brightened.

“Meera, I got it!”

Meera looked over.

“You did?”

“I got it!”

They slapped their hands together while Maan watched them.

Then Geet finally glanced towards him.

“Thanks.”

She returned to her work two seconds later.

Maan straightened because something about it bothered him, although he could not explain what.

Perhaps it was because she had not asked him to stay. Perhaps it was because she had not begged him to teach her. Or perhaps it was because, for the first time, Geet seemed perfectly content figuring something out without him.

He dismissed the thought and headed upstairs to find Yash while Geet bent over her book again.

She did not know yet that 42% would irritate her enough to change the way she approached school, nor did she know that studying with Meera would become part of her routine.

She also did not know that months later she would stand in front of her wardrobe, tired of clothes never fitting the way she wanted, and decide that she wanted to become healthier too.

She would not do it because Maan called her ladoo, because boys laughed or because she wanted somebody to find her beautiful. She would do it for herself.

Geet Handa had spent most of her childhood allowing everyone else to decide who she was: the funny one, the chubby one, the lazy one, the hopeless student or Maan’s ladoo.

She would not remain any of them forever.

And Maan Singh Khurana, who thought he knew Geet better than almost anyone, would be the person least prepared for the girl she was about to become.

Hi, I hope you have enjoyed this. I shall try to post another chapter soon.

Hi there

Congratulations on the new story

Thanks for posting

Amazing character sketch

The Handas and Khuranas are close

Beautiful banner

Thank you for sharing

Chapter 1

The Khuranas and Handas share a close relationship

Great that kids are close

Rajveer and Mohinder are family men

Their wives are equally successful

Of cos Maan and Geet do not get along

Hate that Maan teases Geet

Geet's anger was justified

Maan leaves no opportunity to annoy Geet

And she leave no opportunity to irritate him

Liked when Avantika sided Geet

Now the kids continue bickering

So only Maan can call Geet ladoo

As expected Maan was angry when a boy called Geet fatty

He was adamant that the boy apologise to Geet

Geet's thoughts were reasonable

Great that she confronted Maan

Geet was clearly embarrassed and sad that she did badly in maths

Pleased that Meera will help her

Loved Geet's determination

At least Maan guided her

But she managed to get the answer herself

Maan's thoughts were justified

Geet is slowly changing

She is doing it for herself

Already waiting for next update

Chapter 2 - 42%

For most of her life, Geet Handa had possessed an extraordinary ability to forget anything she did not want to think about, which was why poor marks were usually folded into the bottom of her school bag, unfinished homework mysteriously disappeared beneath her bed and every lecture about applying herself was listened to with the solemn expression of somebody who fully intended to change before being forgotten the moment something more interesting appeared in front of her.

The 42% written across the top of her mathematics paper should have met the same fate.

Instead, it remained on her desk for 3 days.

Geet had originally left it there because she intended to show Meera exactly which questions she had got wrong, although by the end of the 1st evening she had found herself looking at the large red number whenever she walked past, and by the 2nd evening she had become irritated enough to turn the paper face-down, only to turn it back over an hour later because hiding it felt too much like admitting defeat.

By the 3rd evening, she had decided that she hated 42%.

Not mathematics, she realised, because until then she had never actually tried hard enough to know whether she hated mathematics or simply hated being bad at it, and that distinction had begun bothering her considerably more than the mark itself.

Meera had arrived after school carrying 2 textbooks, a notebook and a packet of biscuits she had stolen from the Khurana kitchen, and the moment she entered Geet’s bedroom she found her best friend sitting cross-legged on the floor with the offending paper spread in front of her.

“You’re still staring at that?” Meera asked as she placed her school bag beside the bed, although the amusement in her voice disappeared slightly when Geet looked up with an expression far more thoughtful than the dramatic outrage Meera had expected.

Geet picked up the paper and studied the calculations again before admitting, “I think what’s annoying me is that I don’t even know if I’m bad at maths, because I didn’t revise properly enough to find out,” and when Meera sat opposite her, Geet pointed towards one of the questions she had left almost entirely blank. “I looked at this in the test and decided I couldn’t do it before I even tried, but yesterday when you explained it, I understood it.”

“That’s because you’re not stupid,” Meera replied matter-of-factly as she reached for the paper, although Geet immediately pulled it away and gave her a suspicious look that made Meera roll her eyes. “I wasn’t going to take it. I was looking at the question.”

“You got 78%,” Geet reminded her, narrowing her eyes as though Meera’s success was personally offensive, before adding, “and you didn’t even look worried when Sir gave the papers back, while I was sitting there wondering whether I could fake an illness before he reached my desk.”

Meera laughed as she settled more comfortably on the carpet and reminded Geet that she had revised for almost a week, which only strengthened Geet’s irritation because there it was again, the inconvenient truth she had been attempting to ignore. Meera had not simply walked into the examination and magically understood everything because she was naturally clever; she had worked for the result, and although Geet knew Meera found some subjects easier than she did, she also knew how many evenings her best friend spent reading through notes while Geet was watching television downstairs.

Geet lowered the paper onto the floor and announced, with considerably more determination than Meera had expected, “Fine, then I’m getting at least 80% next time.”

Meera stared at her for several seconds before asking whether she was serious, because Geet regularly made ambitious declarations that lasted until she became hungry, tired or bored, but something about the expression on her face made Meera hold back the joke that had already formed.

“I’m serious,” Geet insisted as she reached for the textbook Meera had brought with her, flipping through the pages until she reached the chapter they were currently studying. “You said you’d help me with maths and I’d help you with English, so we’re actually going to do it properly, and if I start complaining that I’m tired, you’re not allowed to let me stop.”

“You realise you’re going to hate me within 2 days.”

“I already hate you sometimes.”

“That’s fair.”

Their arrangement had started as a simple promise made over a failed test paper, but within the next few weeks it became part of their routine so naturally that neither of them noticed when studying together stopped feeling unusual.

Some afternoons they worked at the Khurana house, although more often they settled around the large dining table at the Handa home because Pammi regularly appeared with plates of food that made revision considerably more tolerable, while Mohinder had taken to walking through the room and staring at his daughter in exaggerated surprise every time he found her voluntarily holding a textbook.

The 1st time he did it, Geet ignored him.

The 2nd time, she asked whether there was something on her face.

By the 5th time, when Mohinder leaned into the room and theatrically asked Pammi whether the girl studying at their dining table was really their daughter, Geet threw an eraser at him and demanded that everybody stop behaving as though she had never opened a book before.

“You have opened plenty of books,” Mohinder assured her as he picked up the eraser and placed it back beside her notebook. “Whether you read them after opening them is a different question.”

Geet opened her mouth to protest, although Pammi, who had been placing a plate of sliced fruit between the girls, immediately agreed with her husband and reminded Geet that only 2 months earlier she had claimed reading chapter summaries should count as reading the entire textbook.

“That was different,” Geet defended herself, reaching for a piece of apple before Pammi slapped her hand lightly and told her to wash it first. “Besides, I’m studying now, so everybody should stop discussing my past.”

Mohinder laughed before kissing the top of her head and returning to his office, while Geet muttered something about having an unsupportive family under her breath, although the smile she tried to hide told Meera she was not particularly offended.

What surprised Geet most was that she slowly began enjoying it.

Not every part, because she still believed algebra had been invented by somebody with a personal hatred of children, and there were evenings when she would stare at the same problem for 15 minutes before threatening to throw the textbook across the room, but she enjoyed the moment when confusion finally disappeared and an answer began making sense.

The 1st time she completed an entire exercise without Meera correcting her, she stared at the page for several seconds before checking the answers twice because she was convinced she must have accidentally done something wrong.

When every answer remained correct, she turned towards Meera with such astonishment that her friend started laughing before Geet had even spoken.

“I did all of them.”

“I can see that.”

“No, I mean all of them are right.”

“I can also see that.”

Geet looked down again, running her finger beneath the final answer as though it might change if she stopped watching it, before a slow smile spread across her face. “Maybe I’m actually good at this.”

Meera leaned against the back of her chair and corrected her gently, explaining that perhaps Geet had always been capable of being good at it and had simply never given herself enough time to find out, and although Geet immediately accused her of sounding like one of their teachers, the words remained with her long after the conversation ended. It was a strange feeling, realising that something she had accepted as a fact about herself might never have been true.

Geet had spent years laughing whenever Yash called her hopeless at maths, complaining dramatically whenever Maan attempted to explain something she did not immediately understand and telling herself that Meera had simply inherited the academic part of the friendship while Geet had received everything else.

She had never considered how easily people settled into roles when those roles were repeated often enough.

Meera was clever.

Maan was brilliant at almost everything and irritatingly aware of it.

Yash was good when he bothered trying.

Aditya somehow passed despite appearing to spend more time talking than studying.

Geet was funny, loud, chubby and bad at maths.

It had become such a familiar description that nobody meant anything cruel by it anymore, including Geet herself.

Now she was beginning to dislike how comfortable she had become inside it.

That afternoon, she and Meera had spread their books across the dining table once again when the front door opened, followed almost immediately by the sound of Yash arguing loudly with Aditya about a football match they had played after school.

Geet heard them enter but kept her head lowered because she was halfway through an equation and knew from experience that looking away would result in losing whichever small amount of sense she had managed to make of it.

Maan entered behind them several seconds later, his voice considerably calmer than theirs as he told Aditya that shouting would not suddenly make the goal count, while Aditya insisted that everybody had seen the ball cross the line before Yash knocked it away.

The 3 boys appeared in the dining room still arguing, although Aditya stopped almost immediately when he noticed the books covering the table and asked whether Geet and Meera were seriously studying again.

“We usually do,” Meera replied without looking up from her notes, while Geet continued working through her calculation and absently reached towards the bowl of grapes beside her.

Yash took one first, earning himself a sharp slap against the back of his hand as Geet finally looked up and accused him of stealing her food.

“It’s a bowl of grapes in my own house,” Yash reminded her as he deliberately took another one, but Geet pulled the bowl closer and informed him that ownership had transferred the moment Pammi placed it beside her.

Aditya laughed as he dropped into the chair opposite them, while Maan remained standing near the doorway for another moment, his gaze settling on Geet because something about the scene had started becoming increasingly familiar over the last few weeks.

Every time he came to the Handa house now, she seemed to be studying.

At first he had assumed the determination would last a few days, because Geet had once announced that she was going to learn the guitar and abandoned it after discovering her fingers hurt, but 3 weeks later the textbooks were still appearing every afternoon and Geet no longer needed Meera sitting beside her for every question.

Maan walked closer and glanced over her shoulder at the page.

Geet noticed his shadow before she noticed him and immediately covered part of the calculation with her hand, turning her head enough to ask suspiciously, “Why are you hovering?”

“I’m not hovering.”

“You’re standing over my shoulder reading my work.”

“That’s called looking.”

“It’s called being nosy.”

Maan ignored the accusation and leaned slightly closer, scanning the question before telling her that she had changed the sign halfway through the equation, which made Geet’s expression tighten as she immediately looked back at the page.

For a moment she searched through the calculation without finding it, until Maan pointed towards the exact line and explained where she had gone wrong, although instead of taking the pencil from her the way he normally would have done, he simply tapped the page once before straightening.

Geet studied it again, erased the incorrect part and worked through the remaining steps until the answer finally appeared.

A satisfied smile immediately crossed her face.

“There.”

Maan glanced down and confirmed that it was right, expecting Geet to ask him about the next one or complain that the entire subject was ridiculous, but she merely smiled and said, “Thanks,” before turning towards the next question.

Maan remained standing there.

Geet did not notice.

He waited another few seconds before asking when her next test was, which finally made her look up again as she told him Friday.

“What are you trying to get?”

“80%.”

The certainty in her answer made his brows rise because only a few weeks earlier she had received 42%, and when he pointed out that 80% was almost double her previous mark, Geet shrugged as though she had already considered that.

“I know.”

“And you think you’re going to get it?”

“I’m going to try.”

Something about the answer made Maan smile slightly, although the expression disappeared before Geet could decide whether he was about to encourage her or annoy her.

Instead he said, “Anything above 42% will technically be an improvement.”

Aditya immediately lowered his head because he knew what was coming, while Yash stopped drinking long enough to watch his sister’s reaction.

Geet stared at Maan for several seconds, and he almost anticipated the familiar outrage, because there had been a time when one comment like that would have resulted in her chasing him around the table while complaining to whichever parent she found first.

Instead, she leaned back slightly and considered him before giving a small nod.

“You’re right.”

Maan frowned.

Geet picked up her pencil again and continued writing as she added, “Which means I don’t need to worry about impressing you, because apparently anything above 42% is too easy to count.”

Aditya’s mouth fell open before he began laughing, while Yash looked between them with obvious amusement and informed Maan that his little sister had finally discovered sarcasm. Maan ignored both boys because Geet had already returned to her work, which irritated him far more than her response itself.

“You’re very confident for someone who hasn’t taken the test yet,” he remarked as he reached towards one of the revision cards lying beside her notebook.

Geet immediately looked up when he picked it up and told him to put it down, although Maan turned the card over before she could stop him and read the equation written across the front.

“Answer this.”

Geet stared at him incredulously. “Why?”

“Because you’re claiming you’re getting 80%.”

“I said I’m trying to get 80%. There’s a difference.”

“Then show me.”

She continued looking at him as though deciding whether arguing would take more energy than simply answering the question, before eventually pulling a spare sheet of paper towards herself and telling him that if he was going to behave like a teacher then he should at least provide snacks.

“There are biscuits in the kitchen,” Maan pointed out, but Yash immediately objected that those were his, causing Geet to tell her brother that food kept in a communal kitchen could not legally belong to him.

Maan placed the card on the table between them and waited while Geet worked through the question, expecting her to hesitate somewhere in the middle or glance towards Meera for confirmation, but she continued without asking anybody for help.

When she finally pushed the page towards him, there was a challenge in her expression that made him look down more carefully than necessary.

The answer was correct.

He checked the calculation once, then again, before returning the paper to her and admitting that she had got it right.

Geet smiled with immediate satisfaction as she took the revision card back from him.

“That sounded painful.”

“What did?”

“Admitting I was right.”

“I admitted you got 1 question right.”

“It’s still growth, Maan. I’m proud of you” Geet remarked.

Yash laughed loudly enough to earn a glare from Maan, while Meera hid her smile behind her book and Aditya announced that he wanted to start attending these study sessions if they were going to become this entertaining.

Maan told all of them to shut up before finally following Yash upstairs, although halfway towards the staircase he glanced back without really intending to.

Geet had already bent over her notebook again.

She was listening to something Meera was explaining, her attention entirely occupied by the page in front of her, and although Maan could not have explained why the sight bothered him, he found himself remembering how different things had been only a few months earlier.

Whenever he arrived at the Handa house, Geet usually noticed before anyone else.

She would appear somewhere beside him, ask what he and Yash were doing, attempt to involve herself and complain when they told her she was too young to come along, until eventually somebody distracted her or Maan deliberately annoyed her enough to send her away.

He had spent years telling her to stop following him.

Now she was not following him at all.

The thought lasted barely a few seconds before Maan dismissed it and headed upstairs, telling himself that he was simply relieved Geet had finally found something productive to do.

He did not notice that he looked back twice.

By Friday morning, Geet had managed to convince everybody except herself that she was not nervous.

She told Pammi that the test was only another test when her mother wished her luck at breakfast, told Mohinder that there was no reason to make a big deal out of it when he reminded her that the mark did not matter as long as she had tried, and spent the entire journey to school telling Meera that she was perfectly calm while bouncing one leg so aggressively that Meera eventually placed a hand on her knee and told her to stop shaking the car.

The confidence Geet had felt while revising seemed considerably less impressive once the question paper was placed in front of her, and for the first few seconds she simply stared at the page while every formula she had revised threatened to disappear from her mind.

Then she recognised the 1st question.

She knew how to do it.

The 2nd was harder, although she had done something similar with Meera 2 nights earlier, and by the time she reached the middle of the paper, the tightness in her chest had started disappearing because for once she was not simply guessing and hoping for the best.

There were questions she struggled with and one she returned to 3 separate times before finally deciding on an answer, but when the teacher announced the end of the test, Geet put her pencil down knowing that she had genuinely tried everything she could.

That alone felt different.

The following week, however, when their teacher entered the classroom holding a pile of marked papers, all the calmness Geet had spent days developing disappeared immediately.

Meera sat beside her with her hands folded across her notebook while Geet watched their teacher move between the desks, placing papers face-down one by one.

“What if I did worse?” Geet whispered, leaning slightly towards Meera without taking her eyes off the approaching stack.

“You didn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You knew more this time.”

“That doesn’t mean I wrote it properly.”

Meera turned towards her and reminded her quietly that even if the mark was bad, they would simply study again for the next test, and something about how easily she said it made Geet finally look away from the teacher.

There was no embarrassment in Meera’s expression and no suggestion that one mark could prove anything permanent.

If Geet had failed, they would try again.

For the first time, she understood why that was enough.

Their teacher reached Meera first and placed the paper on her desk before moving towards Geet.

Meera turned hers over immediately.

87%.

Geet’s nervousness disappeared long enough for her to grab Meera’s arm and whisper excitedly that she had nearly reached 90, while Meera smiled so widely that the teacher looked back and reminded both girls that the entire class did not require a live commentary.

They quickly apologised.

Then Geet noticed the paper sitting face-down on her own desk.

Her stomach tightened again.

Meera glanced towards it before nudging her gently with her elbow.

“Turn it over.”

Geet rested her fingers against the edge of the page but hesitated. “I suddenly don’t want to know.”

“You’ve been talking about this mark for weeks.”

“That was before it existed.”

Meera shook her head, although there was a smile in her eyes as she told Geet to stop being dramatic and turn the paper over.

Geet inhaled slowly before flipping it.

For several seconds, she did not move.

At the top of the page, written clearly in red, was 83%.

Her eyes moved across the number once before returning to it.

83%.

She had expected improvement.

She had hoped for 80%.

She had not quite believed it would actually happen.

Meera noticed the mark a second later and immediately grabbed her hand beneath the desk, squeezing it excitedly as Geet finally looked towards her.

“I got 83,” she whispered, the words coming out almost disbelievingly.

Meera’s smile widened. “You got 83.”

“I actually got 83.”

Their teacher, who had clearly overheard them despite continuing to hand out papers, looked back towards Geet and told her that it was a significant improvement before adding that she hoped Geet had finally realised what happened when she applied herself properly.

Normally, a teacher saying something like that would have made Geet feel defensive.

This time, she looked down at the paper and smiled.

She had always assumed students who received marks like 83% possessed something she did not, as though intelligence was distributed at birth and she had simply been standing in the wrong queue when her turn arrived, but she knew exactly what had created the number in front of her.

She remembered every evening spent at the dining table, every mistake Meera had made her correct herself, every page of calculations she had wanted to abandon and every question she had eventually understood after insisting she never would.

The mark did not tell Geet that she had suddenly become clever.

It told her she had probably been clever all along.

She had simply never given herself enough credit to find out.

Maan knew something had happened the moment he saw Geet leaving the school gates that afternoon, because even amongst the crowd of students pouring onto the pavement, she was impossible to miss when she was smiling like that.

He had been standing beside Yash and Aditya near Rajveer’s car while they waited for Meera and Geet, listening with half his attention as Aditya discussed something that had happened in class, when his gaze shifted towards the gate and immediately found her.

Geet was walking beside Meera, clutching a sheet of paper in one hand while talking so quickly that Meera could barely respond, and every few seconds she looked down at the page again as though checking that whatever was written there had not disappeared.

Yash noticed them moments later and called out.

Geet’s head lifted immediately.

She hurried towards them with Meera beside her and, before Yash had even asked what had happened, Geet pushed the paper into her brother’s hands and told him to look.

Yash frowned as he unfolded it.

His expression changed almost immediately.

“83%?”

The disbelief in his voice made Geet snatch the paper back and remind him that he was supposed to be impressed rather than shocked, although Yash ignored the complaint and pulled her into a quick sideways hug while telling her that he had genuinely not expected her to jump from 42% to 83% in one test.

“That is still an insult,” Geet complained even as she smiled, and when Aditya leaned over to look at the paper, she proudly held it out for him.

Meera announced that she had received 87%, which immediately caused the boys to congratulate her too, and for the next few minutes everybody talked at once while Geet explained which question she had lost marks on and Yash insisted she should frame the paper because nobody would believe it later.

Maan remained slightly behind them.

Geet did not immediately show him.

He told himself he did not care.

A few weeks earlier she would have placed the paper directly in front of him before anybody else, particularly after he had teased her about the 42%, and she would have demanded that he acknowledge she had proved him wrong.

Instead, she was discussing the test with Yash and Aditya as though Maan were barely part of the conversation.

Eventually he held his hand out.

“Let me see.”

Geet turned towards him then, and for some reason the surprise on her face irritated him more than it should have.

“Oh.”

Maan frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

She passed him the paper.

Maan looked at the 83% written across the top, then scanned several of the questions before glancing back towards her.

Geet waited.

He could see that much, even though she was pretending not to.

“Well?” she asked eventually.

Maan folded the paper carefully and handed it back.

“You did well.”

Geet blinked.

“That’s it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, maybe some acknowledgement that I more or less doubled my mark.”

“I said you did well.”

“Yes, but you said it like somebody forced you.”

Maan almost smiled as he reminded her that she was the one who had claimed she did not need to impress him, and Geet stared at him for a second before realisation appeared in her expression.

“You remember that?”

“Unfortunately, I remember most of the things you say.”

Geet’s smile came slowly as she folded the paper and tucked it carefully into her bag. “Good, because I’m going to get higher next time.”

Maan looked at her for a moment longer before telling her not to become arrogant over 1 test, but there was no real mockery in his voice now, and Geet seemed to recognise it because instead of becoming annoyed, she simply shrugged and turned back towards Meera.

As they climbed into the car, Maan found himself watching her again.

There was nothing dramatically different about Geet.

Her hair was still tied messily because she had apparently lost whatever clip Pammi had put into it that morning, her school bag was still overfilled because she refused to remove anything until it became impossible to close, and she was currently arguing with Yash because he had taken the window seat she wanted.

She was still Geet.

Yet something had shifted.

Maan could not identify exactly when it had happened, but the girl who had once looked towards everybody else to tell her what she could and could not do was slowly beginning to decide those things for herself.

Perhaps that should not have mattered to him.

Perhaps it did not.

Still, when Geet finally won the argument with Yash and settled into the window seat beside Meera without looking towards him again, Maan found himself remembering something Aditya had said weeks earlier.

Geet had discovered the easiest way to annoy him.

She had stopped trying to get his attention.

And although Maan Singh Khurana would have denied it if anybody asked, he was beginning to notice every single time she did not.

Chapter 2 Continued below

Chapt 2 continued

The following Sunday morning, Geet discovered that achieving 83% in mathematics apparently came with consequences nobody had thought to warn her about, because what had begun with Pammi casually suggesting that both girls deserved a small celebration for the work they had put into their results had somehow developed into the entire Handa and Khurana families travelling towards one of the larger parks on the quieter outskirts of Delhi with enough picnic baskets, blankets, folding chairs, sports equipment and general luggage to make it look as though they were preparing for a weekend away rather than several hours beneath the afternoon sun.

Both fathers had deliberately cleared their schedules for the day, although neither man seemed particularly willing to admit that the girls’ results had been important enough to rearrange work around. Mohinder had spent most of Saturday evening shifting a contractor meeting to Monday while repeatedly insisting to Pammi that there was absolutely no need to make such a large fuss over one school test, only for his wife to remind him, while continuing to pack containers into one of the picnic baskets, that he had already mentioned Geet’s 83% to 3 different members of staff and therefore had no right to pretend he was treating the achievement casually.

“You told Vijay before you told your own brother,” Pammi pointed out as she looked towards her husband over the kitchen island, amusement appearing across her face when Mohinder immediately became interested in checking something on his phone.

“I happened to be speaking to Vijay when Geet came home,” Mohinder defended as he slipped the phone back into his pocket and reached towards one of the packed bottles of water. “The subject came up naturally.”

Pammi gave him a knowing look as she moved the bottle out of his reach because she had already counted everything. “Naturally, within 2 minutes of her walking through the door?”

Mohinder stared towards his wife before sighing in defeat. “I was proud of her.”

“I know,” Pammi responded with a warm smile as she continued arranging the basket. “Which is why you can stop pretending tomorrow is only happening because I suggested it.”

Rajveer had behaved no better at the Khurana house, because the Sunday design review he would ordinarily have attended had been delegated to one of his senior architects without hesitation, and before the family left in the morning he switched his phone to silent and placed it inside his jacket pocket despite Maan watching the action with enough surprise that Rajveer eventually lifted one eyebrow towards his son.

“You’re not checking work?” Maan asked as he stood beside the car helping Yash and Aditya fit the cricket bag into the boot, his expression making it obvious that the question was less about curiosity and more about the fact that Rajveer rarely ignored a Sunday review when one of his larger projects was approaching a deadline.

Rajveer closed the boot once everything had been loaded and glanced towards his son. “Buildings can survive several hours without me standing over them, Maan,” he explained as he adjusted the cuff of his shirt before looking towards Meera, who was arguing with Geet several feet away about which of them deserved more credit for the other’s result. “The children won’t remain this age simply because I’m busy, and I’m not going to keep postponing every family day until work becomes quiet because work has never once become quiet.”

Maan looked towards his father for a moment before nodding, although he said nothing further as Rajveer moved towards Avantika, who was already calling for everyone to get into the cars before the afternoon disappeared entirely.

By the time they reached the park shortly before midday, Geet and Meera had already been congratulated enough times that both girls had begun groaning whenever anybody mentioned percentages, yet the moment Avantika spread one of the large blankets beneath the shade of an old tree and Pammi started opening the picnic baskets, the celebration became impossible to pretend away.

“This celebration is for both of you, so neither of you is allowed to complain every time somebody says well done,” Avantika reminded the girls as she pushed her sunglasses into her hair and smoothed one corner of the blanket beneath a basket. Looking towards Meera first and then Geet, she added, “Meera got 87%, Geet got 83% and both of you worked hard enough to deserve one afternoon where everybody is proud of you without either of you pretending you’re suddenly too mature to enjoy it.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Geet responded as she crouched beside Pammi and immediately tried to lift the lid of the nearest basket, only for her mother to slide it several inches away before she could investigate. Geet frowned towards her. “I just don’t understand why academic achievement apparently requires this much food.”

Pammi stopped unpacking and slowly looked towards her daughter with such complete disbelief that Yash, who was carrying a folded chair towards them, began laughing before she even responded. “You are questioning why an event involves food?” Pammi asked as she rested both hands on the basket. “You, Geet Handa, are genuinely standing in front of me and questioning the presence of food?”

Geet opened her mouth, paused when she realised she had absolutely no convincing answer and then reached towards the basket again as though the conversation had not happened. “I’m just saying there are a lot of baskets.”

Yash dropped the chair beside the blanket and looked towards everyone with mock concern. “She’s changed more than we realised. Somebody write this down because I don’t think anyone will believe us tomorrow.”

“I haven’t changed that much,” Geet corrected quickly as she turned towards her brother, although the moment Pammi finally opened the basket properly her attention shifted back towards the food and her expression brightened enough that Yash’s laughter increased.

Pammi had deliberately made sure the picnic still felt celebratory without turning it into an excuse for Geet to abandon the healthier routine she had started building over the previous months, because although her daughter remained just as enthusiastic about food as she had always been, she had also become unexpectedly serious about moving more, eating more moderately and gradually becoming fitter without turning the process into punishment.

The baskets contained wholemeal sandwiches and wraps filled with grilled vegetables, lightly spiced chicken and paneer, bowls of chopped watermelon, strawberries, grapes and orange segments, cucumber and carrot sticks arranged beside yoghurt dips, roasted chickpeas, smaller bags of crisps for everybody to share and enough fresh juice and water that Yash stared towards the selection before looking at Pammi with visible suspicion.

“Are we celebrating their results or attending some kind of health retreat?” Yash asked as he picked up one of the containers and discovered vegetables rather than the fried snacks he had apparently expected.

Pammi took the container from his hands and placed it back amongst the others. “There is plenty of food, and there are sweets as well, so stop behaving as though I’ve brought you here to survive on carrots.”

Geet immediately looked around. “Where are the sweets?”

Pammi turned towards her daughter and raised one eyebrow.

Geet smiled innocently. “I was checking.”

Avantika laughed from beside them while Meera shook her head, and although Pammi had indeed packed a few sweets and treats for everybody, she had been firm from the beginning that Geet becoming healthier did not mean suddenly declaring everything she enjoyed forbidden. When Geet had first spoken about wanting to lose some weight, Pammi had reminded her that moderation would last much longer than restricting herself until she became miserable, which was why food in the Handa household had changed gradually rather than becoming something Geet was expected to fear.

There were even several protein bars tucked carefully into one side of the basket, which Pammi removed and placed beside Geet’s bag before her daughter could start investigating another container.

“These are for later if you’re hungry after everybody has eaten,” Pammi explained as she tapped the small packet and looked towards Geet. “You’ve been exercising more and you keep getting hungry between meals, so if you need something later, eat one of those instead of pretending you’re not hungry and then attacking the kitchen 2 hours afterwards.”

Geet’s face immediately became offended as she sat back on her heels. “I do not attack the kitchen.”

Yash, who had crouched nearby to arrange paper plates, looked up at once. “Last week you ate 3 slices of toast while waiting for dinner.”

“I was hungry,” Geet argued as she turned towards him.

Yash pointed towards Pammi with one paper plate. “That is literally Mumma’s point.”

“Nobody asked you,” Geet responded as she snatched the plate from his hand and added it to the pile herself.

Pammi hid a smile as she placed another bowl of fruit in front of the girls, quietly pleased that Geet’s recent effort had become less about declaring she needed to become thin and more about learning that taking care of herself could exist alongside enjoying food rather than against it.

Several feet away, Maan was helping Rajveer unload the cricket equipment from the second car when enough of the conversation reached him to make his gaze shift towards Geet. She had already taken a strawberry from the fruit bowl while continuing to help Pammi unpack napkins and containers, and there had been a time when Maan would have immediately made some comment about her being the first person to find the food, particularly because teasing her appetite had once been almost automatic.

This time, he found himself saying nothing.

Geet ate the strawberry while talking to Meera, entirely unaware that he had looked towards her at all, and when Maan eventually turned back towards the cricket bag in his hands, the fact that she had not noticed him seemed to irritate him considerably more than it reasonably should have.

The picnic remained peaceful for almost an hour, with both families eating, talking and moving between the shade and the open grass while the fathers managed not to check their phones, but that peace ended the moment Aditya found the cricket bat.

He pulled it from the sports bag, tested the weight with both hands and announced that everybody had been sitting around for long enough, causing Rajveer to glance towards his watch before reminding him they had finished lunch approximately 18 minutes earlier.

“That is more than enough rest,” Aditya argued as he swung the bat experimentally through the air and looked around the group with a grin. “Khurana versus Handa.”

Maan, who had been stretched across the grass with one knee bent while listening to Yash complain about something one of their teachers had done that week, immediately pushed himself upright, while Yash sat forward with equal interest.

Geet noticed both reactions and narrowed her eyes.

“That sounds unfair,” Meera remarked from beside her as she folded one leg beneath herself, although the interest already appearing in her face suggested fairness was not going to prevent her from playing.

Rajveer stood and took the bat from Aditya long enough to inspect it before looking towards his daughter. “Why is it unfair?”

“Because you, Mum and Bhai are Khuranas,” Meera explained as she pointed towards her own family before gesturing towards the Handas. “Uncle, Auntie, Yash, Adi and Geet are Handas, so their team has more players.”

“I’m not playing for the Handas,” Yash announced immediately as he pushed himself to his feet.

Mohinder, who had been drinking water beside Pammi, lowered the bottle and stared towards his son. “You are a Handa.”

“I know my surname, Papa,” Yash replied as he walked across the grass and stopped beside Maan. “I’m playing with him.”

Geet looked towards her brother in disbelief before pointing accusingly in his direction. “Traitor.”

Yash gave her a smug smile while folding his arms beside Maan. “Choose better friends.”

Meera stood immediately and crossed towards Geet. “Fine, then I’m playing with Geet,” she announced as she came to stand beside her best friend.

Maan frowned towards his sister. “You’re a Khurana.”

Meera folded her arms across her chest. “Apparently surnames mean nothing today because Yash abandoned his own family first.”

Geet lifted her chin with visible satisfaction and slipped one arm through Meera’s. “She has principles.”

Yash snorted. “She wants to be on your team because you’ll let her bat before you.”

“That is also a principle,” Meera responded without any embarrassment.

Aditya looked between the increasingly confused teams before grinning and beginning to move towards Maan and Yash. “If everybody is changing sides, then I’m going with them too.”

Mohinder reached out immediately and caught Aditya by the shoulder before he could cross the grass. “Absolutely not, you stay here.”

Aditya twisted around and stared towards him. “Why?”

“Because Yash has already defected, and if you leave as well, I’m the only man left on this team,” Mohinder explained as he gestured towards Pammi, Geet and Meera, apparently not realising the danger until the words were already leaving his mouth. “Everyone else is girls.” The reaction around him was immediate enough that even Maan winced from several feet away.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Geet asked sharply narrowing her eyes.

Beside her, Pammi gasped with enough theatrical offence that Mohinder visibly realised he had made a serious mistake, while Meera planted both hands on her hips and stared towards him.

“Uncle, I hope you realise you just made this personal,” Meera warned as she looked towards Mohinder with narrowed eyes.

Pammi slowly turned towards her husband. “Are you actually complaining because you have women on your team?”

“That is not what I meant, and all 3 of you know that.” Mohinder lifted both hands immediately.

“It sounded exactly like what you meant,” Geet responded as she moved closer, folding her arms across her chest.

“I meant Aditya is another player who can bat,” Mohinder tried to explain as he gestured towards the boy still trapped beside him.

“So can I,” Geet replied.

“I know.”

“Mumma can bat.”

“I know that too.”

“And Meera.”

Mohinder looked between the 3 increasingly offended women before exhaling heavily. “I am aware that women can play cricket.”

Geet raised one eyebrow. “You didn’t sound particularly aware about 30 seconds ago.”

Across the grass, Rajveer had already started laughing, which made Mohinder turn towards him with immediate irritation.

“Don’t encourage them,” Mohinder complained as he pointed towards his friend.

Rajveer lifted both hands while still laughing. “I haven’t said anything.”

“You’re laughing.”

“That is not the same thing.”

Avantika, who had remained peacefully seated on the picnic blanket throughout the argument, removed her sunglasses and looked from her husband’s side towards Mohinder’s team before apparently making a decision.

“You know what?” Avantika announced as she stood and brushed a few blades of grass from her trousers. “I’m switching too.”

Rajveer’s laughter stopped.

Maan looked towards his mother.

Avantika crossed the grass, placed both hands on Aditya’s shoulders and physically turned him towards the Khurana side. “Adi can go with them because apparently he is desperate to defect, and I’m joining the ladies.”

Aditya immediately brightened and hurried towards Maan and Yash before Mohinder could change his mind, while Mohinder stared towards Avantika and then slowly examined the team now standing beside him.

Pammi.

Geet.

Meera.

Avantika.

Then himself.

Mohinder shook his head with visible resignation. “I am definitely losing now.”

The silence that followed was considerably worse than the first one.

Geet’s mouth fell open.

Pammi slowly turned towards her husband.

Meera stared at him.

Avantika’s eyes narrowed with enough warning that Mohinder visibly realised, for the 2nd time in less than 2 minutes, that he had selected the worst possible sentence.

Across from them, Rajveer bent forward with laughter.

“You are unbelievably brave today,” Rajveer managed as he straightened and wiped beneath one eye. “Either brave or incredibly stupid, and I still haven’t decided which.”

Mohinder looked towards his old friend with frustration. “I meant because none of them plays regularly.”

Pammi folded her arms. “Keep talking, Mohinder.”

He looked towards his wife.

Then towards Geet.

Then towards Meera.

Then towards Avantika.

Mohinder closed his mouth.

“That is probably the wisest decision you have made since this conversation started,” Avantika advised as she removed the scarf she had been wearing and handed it towards Pammi before stretching her arms.

Rajveer lifted the cricket bat and pointed it towards Mohinder with a grin. “You have already decided your own team is going to lose before anybody has bowled a single ball. Chicken.”

Mohinder stared towards him. “I am not chicken.”

“You just announced you’re definitely losing,” Rajveer reminded him, his grin becoming more irritating.

“Because my team composition has changed 3 times in approximately 2 minutes.”

“Then put money on it,” Rajveer challenged as he tossed the bat lightly from one hand to the other.

Pammi’s eyebrows rose.

Geet immediately became interested.

Mohinder shook his head. “No, because betting money on a family cricket match is ridiculous.”

Rajveer laughed as he turned away. “Chicken.”

“I said it is ridiculous, not that I’m scared.”

“Chicken,” Rajveer repeated without looking back.

Mohinder’s jaw tightened.

Pammi touched her husband’s arm. “Ignore him before you lose money as well as dignity.”

Geet leaned towards Meera and whispered loudly enough for almost everybody to hear, “Papa is scared.”

“I am not scared,” Mohinder responded immediately as he turned towards his daughter.

Meera nodded slowly with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “That sounded very defensive, Uncle.”

Avantika covered her mouth, although her shoulders were already shaking with laughter.

Rajveer turned around again and held out one hand towards Mohinder. “₹2,000. Winning team gets ₹2,000 from the losing captain.”

Mohinder stared towards the offered hand.

Maan looked towards his father from beside Yash. “You realise your team has fewer players.”

Rajveer glanced towards his son. “We have you.”

Maan’s brows rose.

Yash immediately looked offended. “What about me?”

“You chose this team yourself,” Rajveer reminded him while keeping his hand extended towards Mohinder. “Earn your place.”

Aditya laughed beside them.

Mohinder looked towards the women on his side, all 4 of whom were now watching him expectantly, while Pammi lifted one eyebrow as though daring him to refuse after everything he had said.

“Well?” Pammi asked as she folded her arms again.

Mohinder sighed and finally shook Rajveer’s hand. “Fine. ₹2,000.”

Geet immediately clapped once and looked towards Meera with satisfaction. “We’re winning.”

Mohinder turned towards his daughter. “You haven’t even played yet.”

“That sounds like a lack of confidence in your own team, Papa,” Geet pointed out as she smiled sweetly towards him.

Mohinder looked towards the sky. “I have apparently learnt nothing today.”

“No,” Avantika responded as she walked past him towards the makeshift wicket. “You really haven’t.”

The teams required one final adjustment because Mohinder’s side now contained 5 players while Rajveer’s contained 4, and after several minutes of arguing over substitutions, extra turns and whether Aditya should be returned to the Handas after all, Rajveer eventually announced that his side would be allowed one additional batting turn if required. Everybody accepted the compromise largely because nobody wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon negotiating regulations for a family cricket match.

The Khurana team batted first, with Maan and Yash immediately deciding they should open, which caused Geet to object before either had even reached the makeshift crease.

“Why are both of you going first?” Geet demanded as she stood several metres away holding the ball, her eyes moving suspiciously between her brother and Maan.

“Because we’re the best,” Yash responded with complete confidence as he positioned himself near the wicket and adjusted his grip on the bat.

Behind him, Aditya raised one hand. “I object to that description.”

Maan glanced over his shoulder towards him. “Nobody asked you.”

Rajveer, who had appointed himself captain despite contributing very little to the team selection beyond provoking Mohinder into a bet, waved one hand towards Geet. “Stop arguing and bowl.”

Geet narrowed her eyes towards Yash.

Her brother immediately looked suspicious. “Don’t aim at me.”

“I’m aiming at the wicket,” Geet responded as she adjusted the ball in her hand.

“You’re staring at my head.”

“They’re close together.”

Maan laughed from the opposite end while Yash stared towards his sister in outrage, and before he could complain further Geet ran forward and bowled.

The ball bounced once before Yash swung and sent it sharply towards the side where Pammi was fielding, and for half a second everyone assumed it would pass her completely because Pammi had been standing with the casual posture of somebody who did not expect the ball anywhere near her.

Instead, she moved quickly enough to stop it cleanly before it reached the blankets.

Geet immediately threw both arms into the air. “Mumma!”

Pammi looked almost as surprised as everybody else before scooping up the ball and throwing it back towards her daughter.

Mohinder clapped loudly from behind the wicket. “That’s my wife!”

Pammi turned towards him and raised one eyebrow. “I thought you were definitely losing.”

Mohinder’s clapping slowed.

Avantika laughed.

The game deteriorated into competitive chaos almost immediately after that, because Yash managed several good runs before Meera caught him off one of Avantika’s deliveries, and the moment the ball landed in Meera’s hands she shouted with such excitement that Yash stared towards her as though she had completely lost perspective.

“It was one catch,” Yash complained as he walked away from the crease while Meera continued celebrating beside Geet. “You’re behaving like you’ve just won an international tournament.”

“You abandoned your family,” Meera reminded him as she threw the ball towards Geet. “This is justice.”

Yash frowned towards her. “I’m not your family.”

Meera stared at him. “You spend approximately 4 days a week in our house.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It counts when you’re eating our food.”

Geet laughed beside her, while Yash walked away muttering that everybody had become dramatic.

Maan lasted considerably longer at the crease.

That annoyed Geet almost immediately, because every time she bowled he seemed to recognise where she intended to send the ball before it had properly left her hand, and after the 3rd boundary he struck past her, Geet planted both hands on her hips and stared towards him in frustration.

“You’re doing that deliberately,” Geet accused as she watched Maan rest the bat casually against one shoulder.

His brows lifted. “What exactly would you prefer I do?”

“Miss occasionally,” Geet responded as though the solution were obvious.

Maan’s mouth curved. “That isn’t how cricket works.”

“It could be.”

He smiled more openly. “Do you want me to let you win, Football?”

Geet’s expression sharpened immediately at the nickname, and she walked backwards towards her bowling position without looking away from him. “No, because now I want to get you out myself.”

Maan adjusted his grip on the bat, clearly entertained by the challenge. “Try.”

Geet did exactly that 2 overs later when he attempted another shot towards the side and Avantika caught the ball with both hands against her chest.

For one second, Avantika simply stared down at the ball as though equally shocked by what had happened.

Then Geet and Meera screamed.

“Mum!” Meera shouted as she ran towards her mother, while Geet reached Avantika a second later and wrapped both arms around her in excitement.

“You caught Maan!” Geet announced with enormous satisfaction as though Avantika had achieved something significantly more important than taking one wicket in a family game.

Avantika’s face brightened as she looked towards her son, who remained near the crease staring at his mother with open disbelief. “Apparently I did.”

“You have never caught anything I’ve hit in my life,” Maan reminded her as he pointed towards the ball in her hands.

Avantika smiled as she tossed it lightly towards Meera. “Perhaps you’re becoming predictable.”

Rajveer laughed from behind his son.

Maan stared towards his mother.

Geet leaned towards Meera and lowered her voice just enough to pretend she was being discreet. “This is the best day of my life.”

Maan heard her anyway. “You need a more exciting life.”

“I’m working on it,” Geet replied without any concern.

By the time Rajveer and Aditya had both taken their turns, the Khurana side had set what they considered a respectable total, largely because Maan and Yash had done most of the scoring, although Aditya continued insisting that his own contribution had been strategically important despite making considerably fewer runs than he had confidently predicted before taking the bat.

Then it was the Handa team’s turn.

Mohinder immediately announced that he should open because he was technically the captain, and although the women exchanged several doubtful looks, nobody stopped him.

That proved to be considerably worse for Mohinder than for anybody else.

Maan took the ball for the first delivery.

Mohinder positioned himself.

Maan bowled.

Mohinder swung.

He missed completely.

The ball struck the makeshift wicket behind him.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Rajveer broke first, throwing his head back and laughing loudly enough that several people elsewhere in the park looked towards them.

Geet covered her mouth with both hands.

Pammi turned away because she was attempting to behave like a supportive wife, although the movement of her shoulders made it obvious she was laughing.

Avantika made absolutely no attempt to hide hers.

Meera bent forward beside Geet, one arm wrapped around her stomach.

Mohinder remained where he was and stared towards the wicket behind him as though there had been some administrative error.

Maan lowered the ball and gave him an apologetic look that was not particularly convincing. “Sorry, Uncle.”

Mohinder slowly turned towards him. “No, you’re not.”

Maan considered the accusation for a second before admitting, “No.”

Rajveer walked towards his friend with both arms spread. “Excellent captaincy.”

Mohinder gave him a long look before turning towards Geet and pushing the bat into her hands. “I do not want to hear one word.”

“You scored zero,” Geet reminded him as she accepted the bat and attempted unsuccessfully to control her smile.

“I know what I scored.”

“Not one cricket,” she added confidently.

Several metres away, Maan immediately frowned. “You mean run.”

Geet looked towards him. “I know what I mean.”

“No, you clearly don’t.”

Geet adjusted her grip on the bat and lifted one eyebrow towards him. “Do you want to argue terminology for the next 10 minutes or do you want to bowl?”

Maan shook his head and moved back towards his position.

Mohinder returned towards the women while Pammi reached up and patted his shoulder sympathetically. “It’s alright.”

He looked towards her.

Pammi gave him a warm, encouraging smile before adding, “The girls will save you.”

Avantika laughed loudly enough that Rajveer heard her from across the pitch.

Geet took her position next, and Maan stopped smiling quite so much when her first shot travelled cleanly past Aditya before he managed to react.

“Run!” Meera shouted from the side while Geet immediately moved.

She made the first run comfortably, added another from the next delivery and then missed the 3rd completely, which made Maan’s mouth twitch with enough satisfaction that Geet saw it before he could hide the reaction.

“Don’t,” Geet warned as she tightened both hands around the bat.

Maan lifted his brows. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You made the face.”

“It is literally my face.”

“Your face is annoying.”

“Focus, Football,” Maan replied as he prepared the next ball.

Geet’s eyes narrowed.

The next delivery travelled further than any of her previous shots, bouncing beyond Yash before he could stop it and crossing the boundary they had marked earlier.

Geet immediately threw one hand into the air. “Yes!”

Meera and Pammi cheered from the side while Avantika clapped enthusiastically, and even Mohinder jumped to his feet with both arms raised.

“That’s my daughter!” Mohinder shouted proudly.

Geet turned towards him without lowering the bat. “You contributed zero!”

Mohinder sat back down.

Rajveer nearly dropped the ball because he was laughing again.

Geet was eventually caught after scoring enough runs to make the women considerably more confident about the chase, and Meera followed her with a series of careful singles that frustrated Yash because she rarely attempted anything risky enough to give him an easy opportunity to get her out.

“You know you’re allowed to hit the ball properly,” Yash called towards her after another cautious run.

Meera adjusted her grip before looking towards him. “And you know you’re allowed to stop talking occasionally.”

Geet immediately applauded from beside Pammi, while Yash stared towards them as though he had somehow become the victim of the match.

When Meera was eventually caught, Pammi went in next.

Geet expected her mother to be cautious.

Pammi surprised everybody by striking Aditya’s first delivery hard enough that he turned around too late to follow where the ball had gone.

Aditya stared towards her in disbelief.

Pammi merely smiled as she settled the bat against the ground. “I grew up with brothers. Did you honestly think I had never played cricket?”

Mohinder slowly stood from where he had been sitting. “Why did you never mention this before?”

Pammi turned towards her husband. “You never asked.”

Geet laughed so loudly that she had to hold onto Meera.

Rajveer pointed towards Mohinder. “You insulted your own secret weapon.”

Mohinder rubbed one hand across his face. “I would like to formally withdraw everything I said before this match.”

“No,” Avantika called from where she was waiting for her turn. “It has already been recorded.”

By the time Pammi was eventually out, Mohinder’s team needed only a handful of runs to win, which left Avantika walking towards the crease while Rajveer collected the ball.

His wife looked towards him from the opposite end.

Rajveer smiled.

“You can still come back to the Khurana team,” he offered as he turned the ball once between his fingers.

Avantika lifted the bat and gave him a calm look. “Why would I join the losing team?”

“We haven’t lost yet,” Rajveer reminded her.

“You will.”

His eyebrows rose. “Confident.”

Avantika smiled. “You married me. You should know better by now.”

Geet and Meera immediately cheered from the side, while Maan looked towards his father with amusement.

“You brought this on yourself,” Maan remarked as he moved into position.

Rajveer ignored him and bowled.

Avantika hit the ball.

It was not elegant and it was certainly not technically perfect, but it travelled far enough that Aditya ran after it, Yash shouted instructions from the opposite side and Maan moved across in an attempt to intercept.

The ball bounced beyond all 3 of them.

Avantika ran.

Geet started shouting the score.

Meera joined her.

Pammi stood beside Mohinder with both hands clasped together, while Mohinder, who had confidently announced less than an hour earlier that his team was doomed, was now shouting for Avantika to keep running with enough enthusiasm to suggest he had personally believed in them from the beginning.

Avantika completed the final run.

The Handa side won.

For several seconds, the park became considerably louder than any family picnic had a reasonable right to be, because Geet and Meera rushed towards Avantika while Pammi followed, all 3 women talking at once as Avantika laughed and raised the bat triumphantly.

Mohinder came towards them from behind with both arms raised. “We won!”

Every woman turned towards him.

Mohinder stopped.

Geet stared towards her father. “We?”

Pammi folded her arms. “What exactly did you contribute?”

“I captained,” Mohinder responded, attempting dignity.

“You scored zero,” Meera reminded him as she stood beside Avantika.

“I made important strategic decisions.”

Avantika raised one eyebrow. “You predicted we would lose.”

Mohinder looked towards Rajveer as though hoping for male solidarity.

Rajveer was laughing too hard to provide it.

Geet stepped closer to her father and smiled sweetly. “Papa, with respect, you were the weakest player on our team.”

“That is an unnecessarily harsh assessment.”

“It is statistically accurate,” Meera added as she folded her arms.

Pammi nodded in agreement.

Mohinder looked towards his wife. “You too?”

Pammi smiled. “I scored more than you.”

“You scored considerably more than me.”

“Exactly.”

Avantika placed the bat into Mohinder’s hands and patted his shoulder. “You can carry this back to the blanket. That can be your contribution.”

Rajveer laughed so hard that he had to sit down on the grass.

Mohinder stared towards him. “You lost.”

Rajveer looked up. “To the women. You did nothing.”

“I was on the winning team.”

“You were present near the winning team.”

Geet almost collapsed against Meera laughing.

Mohinder finally turned back towards Rajveer and held out one hand. “₹2,000.”

Rajveer’s laughter stopped.

The women immediately became interested again.

Mohinder kept his hand extended.

Rajveer stared towards it. “You cannot be serious.”

“A bet is a bet,” Mohinder reminded him.

“You scored zero.”

“My team won.”

“Your team carried you.”

Mohinder moved his hand closer. “₹2,000.”

Rajveer shook his head in disbelief before reaching reluctantly towards his wallet.

Geet’s eyes widened. “You’re actually paying him?”

“I apparently have honour,” Rajveer muttered as he removed the money and extended it towards Mohinder.

Before Mohinder could take the notes, Pammi reached smoothly between both men and accepted them herself.

Mohinder stared towards his wife.

Pammi folded the money neatly into her hand. “The women won it.”

Avantika immediately nodded. “Correct.”

Meera held out one hand. “We should split it.”

Geet moved beside her. “Equally.”

Mohinder looked personally offended. “I was captain.”

“You were bowled out on the first ball,” Geet reminded him.

“Leadership still has value.”

“Not today.”

Rajveer leaned backwards on both hands, his irritation over losing the money disappearing almost instantly because watching Mohinder lose control of his winnings was considerably more entertaining than keeping them himself.

Maan and Yash returned with the ball while Aditya complained that nobody had informed him Pammi possessed hidden cricket skills.

“You defected,” Geet reminded him as Pammi divided the money between herself, Geet, Meera and Avantika.

Aditya frowned. “I was originally on your team.”

“And then abandoned us because you wanted to play with Maan and Yash,” Geet pointed out.

“That was before I knew Auntie had secret sporting talent.”

Pammi handed Meera her share of the winnings. “Choices have consequences.”

Aditya looked towards Mohinder. “Are you going to let them do this?”

Mohinder watched the money disappear from his possession before he had technically received it. “Apparently I have no authority.”

Pammi smiled towards her husband. “Correct.”

The victorious women returned towards the picnic blankets with considerably more arrogance than they had left them with, while Rajveer endured repeated reminders that his team had been beaten and Mohinder gradually began rewriting the match as though his captaincy had somehow inspired the comeback rather than nearly sabotaged it.

Nobody allowed him to get away with the revision.

By the time everyone settled around the food again, Geet was warm, slightly breathless and significantly hungrier than she had been before the match, and after pouring herself a large glass of water she dropped beside Meera while Pammi passed both girls one of the prepared wraps.

Geet ate while the adults continued arguing about the match, with Rajveer insisting that Maan should never have bowled Mohinder out on the first delivery because keeping him at the crease would probably have helped the Khurana side, while Mohinder accused his friend of disrespecting the winning captain and Avantika reminded both men that she had scored the final runs.

Pammi added, with visible satisfaction, that she had scored more than her husband.

Mohinder eventually stopped discussing cricket.

Geet laughed around another bite of her wrap before reaching towards the fruit bowl, and Pammi noticed the movement without commenting on whether she should eat more, warning her about calories or implying that becoming healthier meant staying hungry after spending an afternoon running across a field.

Instead, Pammi simply slid the bowl closer towards her daughter. “If you’re still hungry later, take one of the protein bars as well,” she reminded her quietly while arranging the remaining containers.

Geet nodded and reached for a slice of watermelon. “I will.”

Across from her, Maan sat with Yash and Aditya, and his gaze moved towards Geet again before he consciously stopped himself from making the kind of comment he might once have made automatically.

A few months earlier he probably would have teased her for returning to the food so quickly after cricket.

Now the joke did not feel particularly funny.

Geet was eating because she was hungry, and she had spent the afternoon running, laughing and competing as hard as anyone else there; more importantly, none of the changes she had begun making seemed to have taken anything recognisably Geet away from her.

She was still loud, still food-loving, still competitive and still entirely capable of turning one school result into an excuse to boast for the rest of the week.

She was simply beginning to take herself seriously in ways she had never done before.

“Why are you staring?” Geet asked suddenly as she looked across the blanket towards him, catching him before he had time to move his eyes elsewhere.

Maan blinked, while Yash immediately turned towards him and Aditya’s attention followed with obvious interest.

“I wasn’t staring,” Maan responded as he reached towards his drink and deliberately looked away.

“You were,” Geet insisted as she narrowed her eyes.

“I was looking over there.”

Geet glanced briefly behind herself before looking back towards him. “At my face?”

“You happened to be in the way,” Maan responded, taking a drink as though that explained everything.

Geet stared towards him for several seconds before taking another piece of watermelon. “That sounds like your problem.”

Aditya immediately lowered his head to hide his smile.

Yash did not bother hiding his.

Maan frowned towards both boys before returning his attention to his drink, although when he looked towards Geet again moments later she had already resumed her conversation with Meera and appeared to have forgotten the exchange entirely.

Again, she did not look back towards him.

As the afternoon gradually moved towards evening, everyone began packing the baskets and folding the blankets, although neither Rajveer nor Mohinder appeared particularly eager to check the phones they had ignored throughout most of the day.

Geet noticed Mohinder’s phone vibrating on the blanket and picked it up before carrying it towards him. “Papa, your office is calling,” she explained as she held it out.

Mohinder glanced towards the screen, recognised the number and pressed decline before slipping the phone into his pocket.

Geet’s eyebrows rose. “What if it’s important?”

“If the building has collapsed, they’ll call again,” Mohinder responded as he reached for one of the folded chairs. “If it hasn’t collapsed, whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”

Geet laughed and looked towards him. “That is very irresponsible advice from somebody who owns a development company.”

Mohinder smiled before slipping one arm around his daughter’s shoulders and drawing her lightly against his side as they walked back towards the others. “I spend enough days solving problems for people who are paid to solve those problems themselves, Geet. Today was yours.”

She looked up towards him.

Mohinder’s expression softened. “83% deserved a Sunday.”

The words affected her more than the number itself had.

Geet leaned into him for a moment before reminding him, “Meera got 87.”

“I know.”

“So technically it was her Sunday too.”

Rajveer, approaching behind them carrying one of the folded blankets, overheard and immediately joined the conversation. “Which is exactly why I ignored 6 calls today as well.”

Meera looked towards him from several feet away. “Only 6?”

Avantika laughed as she approached with one of the empty baskets. “He checked his phone 11 times without answering.”

Rajveer turned towards his wife in betrayal. “How do you know that?”

“Because I was watching you,” Avantika responded as though the explanation were perfectly reasonable.

“That sounds unhealthy.”

“So does working through every Sunday,” she replied as she passed the basket towards him.

Rajveer considered answering and apparently decided against it.

Once the cars had been packed and everybody started dividing themselves between vehicles for the journey home, the team loyalties from the cricket match somehow reappeared.

Yash immediately moved towards Maan’s car.

Geet pointed towards her brother. “Traitor.”

Yash looked over his shoulder while opening the car door. “Winner or loser, I am not spending 40 minutes listening to you and Meera discuss the same maths test again.”

“We’ve moved on from the test,” Geet argued as she stood beside Meera.

“You discussed question 7 during lunch.”

“That was because Meera got it right and I lost 3 marks.”

Yash stared towards her for a moment before opening the car door wider. “Exactly.”

Aditya laughed and followed him.

Pammi called after both boys that they had abandoned the winning team twice in the same day, while Meera laughed and climbed into the Handa car beside Geet.

Maan remained beside Rajveer’s car for a moment while everyone settled, and despite himself his attention shifted once more towards the neighbouring vehicle.

Geet was sitting beside Meera with part of the ₹2,000 winnings still in one hand, telling her best friend that they should spend it on something completely unnecessary because spending Rajveer’s money would make whatever they bought significantly more enjoyable.

Maan shook his head.

Then he smiled.

He had spent years assuming Geet would always be the easiest person in the world for him to understand because she rarely bothered hiding what she felt, yet he was slowly beginning to realise that knowing somebody as a child did not mean you automatically understood every person they might become afterwards.

Geet was still loud, still funny, still food-loving and still entirely capable of driving him insane within minutes.

None of that had changed.

What had changed was the way she saw herself.

A few weeks earlier, 42% had been another number she might once have hidden at the bottom of her school bag and forgotten, yet instead she had allowed it to bother her enough to try, and 83% had become proof that all the things she had accepted about herself were not necessarily permanent simply because everyone had repeated them for years.

The picnic had given both families an excuse to celebrate her result.

For Geet, however, the change had started much earlier.

She was beginning to understand that becoming different did not require becoming somebody else.

Rajveer called towards Maan from inside the car, telling him they were ready to leave, and Maan finally opened the door before glancing once more towards the neighbouring vehicle.

Geet was still speaking to Meera.

She was not looking at him.

Again.

Maan climbed into the car beside Yash and shut the door with a faint frown that he did not realise was visible.

Aditya noticed.

His gaze moved towards Maan, then briefly towards the other car, before a knowing smile appeared across his face.

For once, however, he kept whatever he was thinking entirely to himself.

Hi there

Thanks for updating

Will read and comment soon