Ira's pov
I nodded.
I didn't know why.
Maybe because I was tired of running.
Or maybe… because a part of me still wanted answers.
He stepped aside, letting me pass.
We didn't speak.
Not as we walked past the courtyard.
Not as we crossed the string lights hanging low from tree branches.
Not even when we reached the far end of the garden.
It was quieter here.
Just a few lanterns swaying above.
A bench beneath a tree.
He turned toward me, maybe to speak—
But the words burst from my mouth before he could say anything.
"I didn't know you'd be here," I said quickly. "I swear, Kabir, I had no idea."
He raised an eyebrow, but I didn't stop.
"I didn't even know you were Karan's best friend—he never mentioned your full name—and even when I saw you I thought maybe I was imagining things but then you said your name and then I realized it really was you and—"
I took a breath.
"I'm not running from you, I promise. You don't have to think I'm avoiding you on purpose. And if you want me to leave, I can. Or maybe just pretend you're not here. Or—"
I paused.
Because he chuckled.
A soft, real sound.
Not mocking.
Just... warm.
It stopped me instantly.
I blinked at him, confused.
"Breathe, Ira," he said with a small smile. "Calm down."
I swallowed.
My fingers gripped the edge of my dupatta.
He sat on the bench and gestured gently for me to sit too.
I did.
But I kept a little distance.
Not out of fear.
Just... caution.
He looked ahead, not at me.
His voice was low.
"I've changed, Ira."
I turned my head slightly.
"I really have," he continued. "It took me time. Four years, to be exact. A lot of space. A lot of silence."
The leaves rustled above us.
He didn't sound angry.
Or broken.
Just... honest.
"I was selfish," he said. "Back then. I didn't know how to let go. I didn't know how to love without controlling."
I stayed quiet.
He deserved to speak now.
"I hurt you," he said, his tone heavier. "I know that. I pushed you away while pretending to hold on. I blamed you when it was all me. I was angry. Not because of you. But because I couldn't handle losing you."
He turned to face me then.
His eyes weren't cold.
"I'm sorry, Ira. For everything."
I felt something shift in my chest.
Soft. Subtle.
He meant it.
"I saw you today," he said, smiling faintly. "You looked happy. Confident. Beautiful. And I thought... good. She made it."
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"I'm happy for you," he said. "I mean it. You're getting married. Starting a new life. You deserve all of it."
He paused.
"I'm not here to ruin that. I promise."
I didn't know what to say.
So I just listened.
"I've moved on too," he said. "In my own way."
I nodded slowly.
He looked down at his hands.
"And I don't want our story to stay a wound," he said. "Let's just leave the past where it belongs. Can we be friends?"
I stared at him.
He was asking with no pressure.
Just like a real friend would.
I smiled.
"Okay."
He held out his hand.
I hesitated for a second.
Then took it.
His grip was firm.
But gentle.
No sparks.
No pain.
Just peace.
We stood up and walked back to the house.
The laughter was louder now.
The younger guests had gathered in one of the big rooms near the courtyard.
We peeked inside.
Aanya sat cross-legged on the floor with Karan beside her.
Aarav was there too, sipping something from a paper cup.
A few cousins, friends, neighbors—all grouped together.
I stepped inside with Kabir behind me.
"What's happening here?" I asked with a small smile.
Aanya looked up.
"Oh, you're back!" she grinned. "The elders are all busy with wedding prep—so we decided to play games here."
"Games?" I repeated.
"Yeah. You missed dumb charades," Karan added. "Aanya made me act like a chicken for ten minutes."
Everyone laughed.
I sat down near Aarav, and Kabir quietly found a spot near the window.
We started playing truth or dare.
Someone had to propose to a potted plant.
Another had to sing a cheesy love song in slow motion.
Soon, the dares got repetitive.
Truths got boring.
And one of the cousins—Pia, I think—suggested, "Let's do something different."
"Like what?" Aanya asked.
"Let's share something sweet or funny from our lives," Pia said. "Like a small story or memory. Anything that made you laugh or smile."
There was a round of nods.
I wasn't sure if this would work.
But then a guy named Dhruv spoke first.
"One time," he said, "I had a crush on this girl in college, and to impress her I tried to ride a bicycle with no hands."
"And?" Aanya leaned in.
"I crashed into the principal," he sighed. "And the girl helped him up, not me."
Everyone laughed.
Then Aanya shared how she once thought Karan forgot her birthday—only for him to show up at midnight with a cake shaped like a cat because she loved cats more than people.
"I cried more than I did during our proposal," she admitted.
Karan grinned proudly.
Another cousin talked about learning to cook during lockdown and accidentally putting sugar in dal instead of salt.
Even Kabir shared something.
"When I was a kid," he said, "I cut my own hair because I thought I could save money. Went to school looking like a scarecrow."
Everyone burst into laughter again.
I laughed too.
And it felt easy.
Light.
Like we really were just friends now.
One by one, stories poured in.
Simple. Silly.
Heartfelt.
I looked around the room.
At Aanya.
At Karan.
At Kabir.
At Aarav.
This time, I didn't feel torn.
I felt present.
Aarav cleared his throat suddenly.
Everyone turned to him.
"I think I'll go next," he said, looking at me with a smile.
"I want to tell you all how I met Ira."
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To be continued…
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