Delhi's rains were truly unpredictable, thought Shravan Malhotra as he waited patiently in the comfort of his car for the signal to turn green, hands loosely holding onto the steering wheel as he let his head rest against the headrest of his seat. His eyes fluttered closed as he let himself have a moment of respite, the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain against the roof of his car created a shield around him.

Rain was something, he had always cherished and despised about the Indian Capital, both at the same time. A fact that had been asserted by him at his arrival, almost a year ago now, through postponed meetings, hectic schedules and lazy days spent at home.

In London, rains always meant troubles and casualties, getting down with the flu was a must and he had seen a relevant share of them. It was one of the minus point of the city, he would say. A weather as such was to England's famous tea and cookies.

He would come back from his lectures to the canteen where tea flavoured loneliness was served. He would be lying if he said that he didn't relish on it, his cold gone hands tightened around the cup of tea to thaw the
chill spread around him but no brewage could compete with the flavour of Tom Uncle's hot piping chai.

And then he understood why home never felt like home.

Home wasn't supposed to be somewhere you would think of running from all the time to wander in the streets. It wasn't somewhere you would be terrified to reside in. Coming back home wasn't meant to make you feel anxious and your hands clammy, it's one of the most beautiful things.

Home, he had realized as he sat at his mandatory place at the library of his University, scribbling on his books and surrounded by a sea of people was the rickshaw both of them sat on, accommodating themselves within the limited space the small backseat offered, their arms slightly brushing, their knees touching times to times and strands of her hair caressing his face whenever a gentle breeze passed by as they savoured tea and fell into a comfortable silence.

A honk coming from the car behind woke him up from his reverie, the signal had finally turned green.

His tires moved swiftly through the accumulating puddles of water and droplets hit the car windows rapidly as he drove onwards, more than eager to reach home on time like every other person on a Friday night in the city with flurry of activities.

Rains arrived without warning, disturbing gentle sunshine of springtime.

If for children, they were an excuse to run into the street barefoot and dance with an open mouth, for people wearing suits and boots, they were a hindrance to the business forcing them to stay cloistered within four walls.

Each drop is bequeathed by God himself unto the blackened roads, hurriying mortals to go back to the warmth of their homes, spent the day by the cheminy fire and share anecdotes from decades ago over cups of coffee or tea.

That's what life is made of, these little impromptu moments.

Shravan parked outside Malhotra mansion at his usual spot and his lips curved up in a slender smile as his eyes caught the sight of her ambassador parked right next to his. She was already home.

Umbrella in hand, he threw his door open and ran under the rain till the Mansion's gates, greeted by the watchman who himself was drenched from head to toe.

Shravan landed him the purple umbrella he had borrowed from Suman the very morning so the watchman could protect himself from the heavy downpour and walked inside getting his clothes thoroughtly soaked.

His hair would not survive this.

Suman had caught sight from the open window of their room, of her purple umbrella floating over his tall figure, protecting him from the cloudburst but what he did next was so unexpected and made her heart so content.

She could never manage to voice with words her divulgence of adoration for him so she kept staring, sighing and smiling around him. A lot.

Shravan Malhotra wore his heart on his sleeve.

And she often wondered how one individual could possess so much love in the palm of his fist and how carelessly and nonchantly he would give each part of himself with a smile. He was born to love and she was made for him to love.

He entered into the room filled with the sweet earthly scent, she had kept the window open for him and stood by it, crystal clear water drenched her face softly as she outstretched her hand, small pellets of water slipping between her fingers.

He crept in behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. He went ahead and purposely rubbed his wet cheek against her neck and her cheek causing her to elbow him in the ribs earning a grunt from him.

"Shravan!" She squealed making him laugh.

"I know my name Sumo," He replied cheekily which caused her to slightly turn in his arms so she could bestow him with her best glare.

"Hi," He whispered in Sumo's ear running the cold tip of his nose against her warm skin.

"Bye," She retorted masking the fact that she was feeling ticklish under his caresses.

"Go and change, you'll catch a cold," She said, trying to extract herself from his arms.

"I've got you to keep me warm," She could feel Shravan's cheek swelling with a smile against her neck as he pressed a slight kiss there, his hands pushed against her stomach pulling her closer. Her cheeks coloured.

After a while, neither did she made any move to distance herself away from him nor did his hold slackened.

They kept staring outside.

For the longest time, rain had hammered down on them like a hail of bullets.

Now it fell lightly as if aware of the hardships both behind and ahead.

Shravan cuddled up in a blanket, his head resting on Suman's lap while she sat her back propped against the backrest, her legs crossed and resting on the table in front of her, one hand holding the remote and the other one twirling strands of Shravan's black hair between her fingers.

She looked down at him to see that he wasn't paying attention to the movie he had recommended but was staring at the ceiling instead.

"Shravan?"

"Hmm?" He tore his gaze away from the ceiling to look at her.

"What happened?" She nudged her head as though to question him about his aloof behaviour.

"Nothing." He shook his head in the negative.

"Weren't we supposed to share everything with each other?" She questioned, one of her brows raised in defiance for him to deny the claim. He simply smiled.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was diligent.

"Tum kab se puch ne se pehle puch ne lage?" She teased ruffling his hair making him shift on her lap.

"Sumo..." His voice lowered down a notch and she leaned in, concerned by his change in tone, "What's troubling you Shravan?" She asked caressing his forehead.

"Sumo... I have been wanting to ask you something but I don't know how to..." He said worry evident in his voice. She turned off the TV.

"You can ask me anything Shravan, you know that," She encouraged him, combing her fingers through his hair.

"Did you... Have y-you ever felt resentment towards your parents?" He tripped over his own words, averting her eyes.

"What do you mean?" She smiled confused, her head titling to the side as her fingers continued combing through the soft strands.

He got up from her lap in a hurry and took hold of both her hands in his, thumbs caressing the back of them.

"After they left, did you ever feel angry on them for leaving with a debt?" He worded cautiously hoping the selection of his words wouldn't offend her.

But his fear had become reality the moment the confused expression etched on her face transformed into a more restraint one as she looked down. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily and cupped her chin in order to make him look at her. "I am sorry, you don't need to answer that."

She interrupted with a harsh shake of her head, "No, it's okay, I am just surprised, no one ever asked before."

"Shravan, I was very young when I lost them..." She paused to exhale a small breath. "And if it wasn't for the few photos I have of them, I would have perhaps forgotten their faces, even the sound of their voices is a distant echo now."

"When Nanu brought me to his house, everyone welcomed me with so much love and they made so many efforts to make me happy, but I just couldn't... I couldn't be happy. But with time, everything changed, no matter how much they cared for me, it didn't change the fact that I wasn't supposed to be there, I wasn't wanted." She said with a melancholic smile and misty eyes as she remembered all the times she had been discarded by her own family members.

Shravan nodded in the negative, his hold tightening on her hand and his own eyes looking troubled at the conclusion she seemed to have reached.

"I don't blame Mamiji or Mamaji, they were right in their own way but I won't lie to you there were days I was so tired, I just wanted to run away from there, I would be so angry at my parents that I would start complaining to their photo and then I missed them even more," She chuckled somewhat embarrassed by the confession of her vulnerability as she recalled days of utter despair when she would cry her heart out because of how lonely and vulnerable she felt.

"After a while, I just stopped being angry, main unse shikayat karti bhi to kya hojata, meri awaaz toh unn tak nahi ponch sakti na?"

"And you know if it wasn't for the debt then perhaps I wouldn't have worked so hard, PCT might have never seen the light..." She said, a fond smile gracing her face as fond memories filled her mind.

He had been acquainted to another side of her and he realized that he hated to imagine her so helpless. His Sumo had always been his strength. He could now see how much the debt had damaged her but not her spirits, how it had become this enormous encumbrance weighing down her shoulders, how it had turned into the shackles around her feet.

All her wants and desires, all what a young woman of her age aspired to had been tied down by the burden of a debt that wasn't hers to begin with.

Simply, because she believe her people's mistakes to be her own and her life's motive to rectify them.

She glanced up briefly at him to see his brows pulled up together and immediately scooted closer to him, easing the creases on his forehead with her thumbs but the strain of worry was still very much present in his demeanor, his eyes until she cupped his face and forced a smile out of him. "A secret between you and me..." She trailed off.

"I used to look forward to Mamiji's taunts, they always came in handy for rude customers," She said with a hint of a smile in her voice causing him to chuckle and sheking his head at her antics.

"Now how about we watch that movie," She pointed towards the TV and he sighed making himself comfortable in her lap.

In between, Shravan's fingers trailed down to her exposed ankle and dragged up her knee, at which point she would either try to pull her legs away or whack his hand. He traced the inked skin with his fingertips. "I still can't believe you have a tattoo."

"And I can't believe you would check me out during my sleep." She crunched her nose and shook her head in dismay.

"Excuse me? You were the one floating it!" he said outraged, slightly raising himself from her lap.

"You should have closed your eyes, that's what gentlemen do," She retorted with a sweet saccharine smile pulling him back by his shoulders.

"But I ain't no gentleman," He mumbled against the soft material of the sweater she had stolen from him as he buried his face into her stomach causing her to giggle as she tried to push him away but he was quick to flip her over and started tickling her mercilessly, occasionally stealing kisses, she returned with equal fervor.

Needeless to say, the movie wasn't watched.

***

"Shravan, so God help me if I fall today," She warned with a hiss.

He had told her to get ready in a jiffy as they were going somewhere without revealing the name of the place and the moment she sat in the car, he put a blindfold on her eyes pretexting a 'surprise'.

"You won't, give me your hand." He outstretched his hand for her take it and step out of the car to stand by his side.

"Almost there," He whispered holding her by the shoulders lest she would trip, Sumo had the capacity to trip over air.

"Ready?" He asked a gentle enough question to which she frantically nod her head up and down.

He unknotted the blindfold and she opened her eyes.

Her eys widened in shock and her breath halted for a moment as she stood in front of her parents' home.

Her neck tilted in astonishment towards him, incomprehension etched on every feature of her face while he smiled a sly smile as if waiting for her to say something, for her approval.

Gently taking hold of her hand, he placed the keys in the middle of her palm, "It's yours."

And when she recovered from the initial shock, she took a step forward, looking at the nameplate written in elegant italic letters.

'Suman Tiwari Malhotra,' it said.

Her eyes shimmered with tears as she read the name over and over again willing her racing heart to slow down. She turned to look at him and by the looks of it, she was unable in forming a proper sentence. This made Shravan smile, he had finally succeeded in leaving her at loss of words.

"How did you that? I mean-"

"That's not important," He cut her off in midsentence.

"I can't take it Shravan," She whispered having to swallow hard to keep the tears at bay and thrusted the key in his hands.

"Of course you can," He indulged thrusting the keys back in her hand.

Sensing that she was going to interrupt him and anticipating such a reaction from her, he took hold of both her wrists and pulled her closer to put a stop at this back and forth between them. A distance time and she had created together and he had been trying to erase ever since he came back.

"You can't take it or you can't take it from me? He asked quietly looking at her with a mix of so many emotions she couldn't name but she was still able to perceive the strain of vulnarebility he had hidden so well, in his eyes, in the way he tugged at her wrists.

"Let me fulfil this dream of yours," He coaxed wiping away the tears that kept slipping away from her eyes as she looked at him in a daze, making him sigh in longing as he gently tucked her hair behind her ears.

"I have been saving up since the first time we came here, please don't refuse it," He whined sweetly making her chuckle behind tears as she held her gaze down, incapable of maintaining eye contact without breaking down.

"Main kabhi tumhara koi sapna toot ne nahi donga Sumo," she remembered words he had said years ago in a sleepy haze as he had spent the entire night fixing the model she were to submit the next day, without complaining once, without any return engagements or request from her side.

No matter how much he denied it and hid himself under layers of perfectionism, success and outward calm, he was still the same Shravan Malhotra, the sweet bespectacled boy whose whole world turned around his Sumo.

He would always go his way out to fulfil her wishes no matter how insignificant they might have been to her, wait over hours only for her to forget, getting soaked in the rain while holding the umbrella over her head to protect her from the slight drizzle or spend his pocket money to treat her with sample of delicacies she craved for but never had enough coins for. Only to have her smile at him, only to have her lovingly ruffle his hair, once in a while.

It all came so naturally to him as if it was engrained in his system and each time he had done something for her out of pure love and affection, she had taken for granted the importance of those gestures obliviously thinking that he would always be around, he would always have the heart to forgive her silly mistakes, he would always be there to hold her.

And never did his undivided attention wavered once nor did his affection lessened.

Words and she had never been allies so to demonstrate the extent of her emotions and gratitude she held onto him like he was her mainstay, she held onto him like he was her last breath.

***

Suman was doing some cleaning and she was trying to get one of her shirts from the top shelf of the cupboard. She had no idea of how or why it had ended up there but she had figured it might have been the doing of her Qutub Minar. Even standing on her tippy toes and stretching as far as she could, she still couldn't reach it.

When she jumped for it again, she felt big warm hands on her waist lifting her up higher so she could reach the shelf. She snatched the shirt up and he lowered her back onto the floor.

"You could have called me, you know," he said with a teasing tone in his voice as he backed her against the cabinet.

"I could have managed," She snapped at him whisking away when he held by her shoulders

"Are you still thinking about the house?" He asked seriously, she had been really quiet since they had reached home, yesterday.

"No, it's not that..." She breathed out. "I just feel that no matter what I do, you will always be the most invested one in the relationship." She mumbled toying with the buttons of his shirt distracting him a bit.

"Why would you feel so?"

"Because it's easy for you to talk about your feelings, you express yourself through words and actions and I couldn't even thank properly yesterday. Doesn't it bother you that I am so inexpressive?" She inquired apprehensive of his answer.

He stared at her for a long moment. "I should make you drink more often." Her brow lifted in surprise.

"The last time you had alcohol you said and did some pretty bold stuff," He wiggled his brows suggestively at her reminiding her of a night from a long time ago. He often teased her about it and made up stuff she never believed. She chuckled and slapped the back of her hand at his chest shutting him up effectively.

"Would you believe me if I told you that it doesn't matter to me?" He said as he pulled her closer, his hands on her waist, smiles still present on both their faces.

"And while I would love for you to be more expressive about how you feel, I am okay with you not saying it all the time because when you say it...." He took her hand and placed it on his heart. "This is what happens."

His heart thudded loudly in his chest, as always in her proximity.

Suman sighed, he really had a way with words.

"I know that when you say 'I love you', it's not for the sake of it but because you absolutely mean it," He quipped.

"Aur waise bhi, there are other ways to demonstrate it." His hands around her waist trailed patters on her skin as his head bent down so his lips could meet hers when Pushkar knocked on the door of their room asking for Shravan.

"I am going to kill him one day." He dropped a kiss on her head with a long sigh and walked away.

"I love you," She said in her mind to his retrieving figure.

***

"Lalaji aap yahan iss waqt?" Shravan called out as he saw his uncle sitting on the bench in the courtyard, he had come to fetch a bottle of water from the kitchen.

"Haan puttar neend nahi aarahi thi to socha idhar his beth jaon," Lalaji explained shifting on the bench to make some room for Shravan to sit.

"Ah pictures," Shravan exclaimed, sitting next to him as Lalaji flipped through the pages of a family album.

"I never saw these ones," He mused flipping through the pages of an album mostly filled with black and white pictures.

"It's your father and mine's childhood pictures," Lalaji revealed with a bright smile that reminded him so much of Pushkar.

"This one is my favourite," Lalaji said and passed it on to him. Three men stood side by side, a slightly older and taller man stood between the other ones, one arm around each boy's shoulder as the three of them smiled at the camera.

"It's one of the only pictures where my father actually smiled," Lalaji chuckled remembering his father.

"Why? Was he strict as a person?" Shravan couldn't help but ask about his grandfather he had never got the chance to really know, he was a toddler when he had passed away.

"No, he only felt that he looked ridiculous while smiling but that I guess is a family complex," Lalaji said, eyes shining with mirth. "He was a very jovial person but he was strict about education and had lots of expectations from his children and he went overboard sometimes but I am glad he did this picture is from the day I got my degree."

"I wish I had spent more time with him..." Lalaji confessed, suddenly sounding very melancholic. Shravan placed a hand on his knee. "I wanted him to see me as a father and hear him tell me that he is proud of me."

"I am sure he is, you are a great father Lalaji." Shravan squeezed his hand to demonstrate his words and he truly meant it, his brothers and his uncle shared one of the most beautiful relationship he had witnessed in his life filled with trepidation, hidden truths and farced concern.

"And you are a great son to your father." Lalaji patted his back in a fatherly gesture which had his throat in knots, not just because of his uncle's selection of words, but because of how gently he had spoken.

Exhaling roughly, he whispered, "I'd rather say, the perfect puppet to the puppeteer."

"Bohot yaad aati haina tujhe unki?" Lalaji asked a question he had already the answer to, the shudder that went through Shravan's shoulders as he pat his back was the answer to his question.

A moment passed.

"Aati hai, bohot aati hai lekin phir ghusa bhi bohot aata hai." He was torn apart between two emotions and it reflected well in his demeanor, his cracking voice and his glistening eyes.

"He had made a mistake but-"

"Mistakes are not life-altering Lalaji," His voice raised slightly so.

Lalaji tilted his head to the side as to assess him, "Tell me Shravan, how many fathers are as invested in their children's life as your father is? You father has loved you the most in his entire life."

He drew in a deep breath, letting his eyes shut for just a moment, hating how much this felt like another blow to the head despite knowing that Lalaji was right. Admitting it to himself was one thing but hearing it from someone he held high in regard was entirely different.

"Does he being my father and providing for me right all his wrongs?" He questioned wanting to hear comforting words from his uncle, someone who had become a paternal figure from him in these last months.

"You told me you missed him," Lalaji eventually said, bringing him out of his misery of wondering. "You have been carrying this anger inside of you for so long, don't you want to be free from it?"

"I want to, I truly want to but it's too soon, I don't think I can take it anymore," He murmured suddenly feeling exhausted. "Because I don't know if it weren't for Sumo where I would be right now." And it was the ultimate truth if it wasn't for her, he would have spiralled in dangerous territories and nothing would have been left of him.

"Mujhe na parents ka funda samajh main hi nahi aata, kabhi zaroorat se zyada care karte hain to kabhi... humare hone ya na hone se koi fark hi nahi parta, jaise hum khud duniya main aaye ho," He chuckled in longing and raging hurt as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve

Lalaji sighed as he took off his glasses and set them carefully on the edge of the table before turning back towards his nephew, "Parents ka funda bohot hi simple hota hai puttar, bas humare paale nahi par tha."

"Maa baap ka ek hi maasla hota hai, jab baat unn ke bacchon pe aati hai to sahi aur ghalat, accha aur bura ke beech ka fark, bohot mamouli sa lagta hai," Lalaji's words touched him where it pricked the most.

Something shifted, hardened and stung at the same time.

Lalaji greeted him goodnight and went into his room, leaving him in a chaos of troubles and memories, like a spider entangled in its own web.

***

"Sumo..." His hand reached out to the far right side of the bed so he could pull her towards him and spoon with her but her side of the bed was left cold. His eyes twitched and he peeked from between his lashes, she must have been up early he thought.

Groaning, he took her pillow and buried his face into it, he hated not being able to cuddle with her in the morning.

After a good sleep, he went into the closet to choose his clothes when he saw a note stuck onto the cabinet.

"Wear white please," it read.

That made Shravan smile and dodging the black shirt he had initially went for, he picked the white shirt she had brought for him, not so long ago.

He stood in front of the book shelf to take his files for the day when his eyes caught the sight of a book that was different. He took it and opened the last page, a note was left for him.

"Borrowed me you have years ago, meet me in the place where only whispers are allowed."

He bounded down the stairs and reached his car. He found a note between the wippers of his car.

"Follow the directions, it will bring you to your destination,"

He followed the GPS instructions but soon enough he realized that he knew the way by heart. They had taken this path together, every morning and evening for two years. A path that led to their school. The place that held memories in every nook and crook of its space.

He parked his car and entered into the school. He walked through the very corridor in which he had collided with her, turning his world upside down.

She had left a note on the wall. "You turned my world upside down."

He properly folded the paper and put it into his pocket, some things were meant to be kept for memories to remain. His next stop was at the library, he walked around their bookshelf, - the one he used to leave little surprises for her when they were in high school – circus tickets, chocolates and sometimes tulips.

But then he chastised himself in his head. She had never been much for libraries that was always his things.

He had made the mistake to underestimate her, as always. His eyes spied two books that had been placed with their hinge at the back instead of facing outwards, he retrieved them from the shelf and opened up the first one.

A sheaf of paper fell ot but was quick to catch it before it fell to the floor.

"Yes, it's love."

This was his answer to the question he had asked her through his letter, years ago. Back then, he didn't know why her proximity made him feel so funny in the bones, why he always wanted to be around her, so in his innocence he had asked her a question and it had taken her ten years to give him the answer he was holding his breaths for.

He opened the second one. "I want you to read to our children, beautiful fairy tales and stories where two best friends fall for each other." A smile quirked up the corner of his mouth. She had never voiced out such a wish before and he could already picturize it.

He passed by the canteen when a mouth-watering smell draw him towards the kitchen. On the counter was kept a bowl of his favourite delicacy, moong dal ka halwa. After gulping down the whole desert in mere spoonful's he read the piece of paper that had been kept by her underneath the bowl.

"After this excess of sugar, I advise you to run till the ground play."

Huffing and running, he reached till the ground, eyes deseperatly searching for her when putting an end to his wait, she appeared like an apparition, standing on the ledge.

It felt a perfect replica of his worst nightmare. Little did he know that she was about to transform the nightmare in the most beautiful dream.

She stood on the ledge, towering over him like she had ten years ago. All of a sudden, he felt small and vulnerable under her scrutiny.

His heart thudded loudly in his chest and his tongue felt heavy as he looked up at her only to see her smiling at him. "Tumhe hamesha mujhse ye shikayat hoti hai ke main kabhi tumse apni dil ki baat nahi karpati to aaj tum sunoge aur main bolongi."

"First of all, I want to apologize for everything," She said earnestly pinching her ears with her fingers. "For hurting you so very much during our childhood and even after that." When she felt that he was about to retort, she put a finger on her own lips, silencing him.

"You keep saying that I have changed you, that I have made you a better person when in reality you are the one who taught me to live for myself, to keep myself and my wants first, to have the courage to dream and fulfil them as well," She confessed to him, with tears slipping from her eyes and a barely visible smile.

"Main udna chahti thi apne pinjare se nikal kar aasmaan chuna chahti thi aur mujhe patha hi nahi chala kab main udne lagi, kab tum mere pankh bangaye," She whispered, her eyes never leaving his and it felt almost as if she peered into his soul at that moment.

"I know I am not making sense but then I have never wanted something as much as I want this..." She pointed the space between them. "I have been oblivious for the longest time but I want this, I want to share coffee with you, laugh at your pathetic jokes and just... be with you," She'd blurted, stumbling over words, her emotions were all over the place and she felt consumed by the way he looked at her in that moment.

"So, Shravan Malhotra..." Mustering courage, she walked till the end of the ledge, a mere meter separating them and got on one knee and his gaze followed the hand that held her father's ring. "Shaadi karoge mujhse, phirse?"

He had left like a coward, ten years ago and when he had taken the life-altering decision to leave, it was not due to one incident. Years of exertion had led him to this point of no return. Slowly and gradually, the dagger of rejection burnt him, that pain was breaking him, killing him.

That day, she hadn't only reduced his existence to a meagre name, she had broken him from inside. She didn't just reject his love. She had rejected Shravan Malhotra in his entirety– his nerdiness, his looks and appearance. She had rejected everything about him because he couldn't compete to her standards of a friend, she had rejected his care and concern and trampled over his heart made of glass.

He had only wanted her world to revolve around him like his revolved around her.

Today, she had accepted him in his entirety and he had fallen for her all over again. This place would not evoke bitter memories of the past anymore, the fragrance of her love filled the entire atmosphere and now by the ledge stood Shravan Malhotra, whose heart had been mended by delicate fingers after years of breathing despite broken pieces making home inside his chest.

"Shravan, could you hurry please, my knee is hurting," She whisper-yelled and he shook his head in disbelief before he lifted her and twirled her around, her effervescent laughter echoing all over the place.

"I love you so much," She could feel his lips widen against her lips and sudden tears blurred both of their vision and they didn't know why and yet they did."

"Is that a yes?" She interrupted him, wounding her arms around his neck.

"Yes," His chuckle was soft, slightly disbelieving, like he still couldn't fathom how they had gotten here.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," He murmured against her lips, her face, the curve of her neck.