You could smell it in the air.

  Rumors.

  Gossip.

  It spread faster than cholera in Sector 45.

  By Monday morning, random uncles on bikes were giving me sly thumbs up. Aunties from balconies were whispering behind their palms when I stepped out for milk.

  "That’s the boy with the foreigner," I overheard one auntie giggling to another.

  "Ekdum filmy love story g rahi hai," the other replied.

  (Feels like a Bollywood love story.)

  I wanted to crawl into a drain.

  Eira, of course, was oblivious to it all.She walked through the streets coolly, like some queen surveying her kingdom, completely unbothered.

  Meanwhile, I was internally combusting.

  Because — somewhere between the gully cricket chaos, the homemade parathas, and the prank where she accidentally confessed love — something had shifted.

  I was falling.

  Not anime crush falling.Not waifu fantasy falling.

  Real falling.

  And it scared the hell out of me.

  Monday evening, while Eira and I were chilling, half-watching anime and half-dozing on the couch, my phone buzzed.

  Incoming video call: Didi ??????????

  I groaned.

  "No peace," I muttered.

  I answered reluctantly.

  Didi's grinning face filled the screen instantly.

  "OYEEE LOAFER!" she shouted. "What's the progress report?"

  I blinked. "Progress report?"

  "Between you and Eira, idiot! Retionship status update! News! Timeline!"

  I choked on air.

  "What retionship?" I croaked.

  Before I could babble more nonsense, Eira leaned casually into frame.

  "It is going good," she said seriously.

  Dead silence.

  My mouth opened and closed like a fish.

  Didi squealed like a fangirl."OHO! So then Eira should start calling me 'Didi' too, huh?"

  Eira, without missing a beat, nodded. "Of course, Didi."

  Didi looked ready to cry tears of joy.

  I looked ready to cry tears of terror.

  And then, like a nuke casually tossed onto a bonfire, Didi asked:

  "So... have you two kissed yet?"

  I had just taken a sip of chai.

  I violently spat it all over my pajama pants.

  "WHAT THE HELL, DIDI!" I shouted.

  Meanwhile, Eira turned an interesting shade of pink.

  She lowered her gaze slightly and mumbled, "Not yet."

  I stopped breathing.

  My brain short-circuited.

  Somewhere in the distance, dogs were barking. Pnes were crashing. Stars were exploding.

  Didi screeched with ughter.

  "MUMMY! KARAN GOT SHY!" she yelled offscreen.

  I hung up before the whole neighborhood got involved.

  The room went painfully quiet.

  Eira sat cross-legged, face calm again, nibbling on a biscuit.

  I sat frozen, staring at the wall.

  I couldn’t even pretend to watch the anime now. Every neuron in my brain was screaming.

  "NOT YET???"

  What did that mean?What would happen after "yet"?Was there a pn?Was I going to have to prepare myself for death-by-overload?

  I sat through three episodes of anime without hearing a single word.

  Eira, to her credit, pretended not to notice.

  But my heart was rioting inside my ribcage.

  That night, after brushing my teeth and changing into fresh pajamas, I stood awkwardly in the hallway between our rooms.

  Eira emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, wearing one of my oversized T-shirts again.

  I cleared my throat.

  She looked at me, head tilted.

  "Yes?"

  I scratched my head furiously.

  "Uh... why... uh..."I cursed myself internally.

  Deep breath.

  "Why did you say that?" I asked finally.

  She blinked. "Say what?"

  "During the call," I said, cheeks burning. "About... about the kiss thing. 'Not yet.'"

  She watched me for a long moment, eyes unreadable.

  Then she said, voice soft but serious:

  "I understand more than you think."

  I froze.

  "I can tell," she continued, "that your sister, your friends... they tease you because they see us like partners."

  She stepped a little closer, the air between us humming.

  "I do not mind," she said simply. "Being your partner."

  I stopped breathing.

  "But," she added, her voice firm, "I am still learning. About this world. About your ways. About emotions."

  She smiled — small, real, beautiful.

  "When I am prepared," she said, "I may choose you."

  And with that, she padded calmly into her room, leaving me standing there, emotionally nuked.

  I did not sleep that night.

  At all.

  I y in bed, eyes wide open, mind racing at 600 kilometers per hour.

  She said "may choose you."

  Which meant there was a chance.

  Which meant I had hope.

  Which meant...I was doomed.

  At some point, around 4 a.m., I got up.

  Lit a few incense sticks.

  Stood in front of my Hanuman poster.

  Folded my hands.

  And started praying like my life depended on it.

  "Bajrang Bali," I whispered desperately. "Please. Please give me strength. Give me sanity. And if possible... maybe also a girlfriend, someday. But mostly sanity."

  I chanted Hanuman Chalisa under my breath, over and over, clinging to the words like a drowning man to a life raft.

  Morning came.

  Sunlight spilled across the floor.

  Eira emerged from her room, hair messy, yawning slightly.

  She stopped in the hallway.

  And stared.

  Because there I was —kneeling on the floor in front of the Hanuman poster, chanting feverishly, rocking back and forth.

  She blinked.

  "Are you... alright?" she asked carefully.

  I looked up, wild-eyed, disheveled.

  "Preparing," I croaked.

  "For what?"

  "For impact."

  She stared at me for a beat longer.

  Then — to my absolute horror —she smiled.

  Not a mocking smile.

  A soft, almost fond smile.

  And somehow, that scared me more than anything else.

  Because if she really was starting to care...

  I was well and truly doomed.

  In the best way possible.