**Chapter 12: *Unspoken Things***
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The ride back to their apartment was silent—but not heavy. Not like before.
Aanya kept glancing at Arjun. He looked tired but relaxed. His left hand was on the wheel, right one resting between them, fingertips brushing hers every few minutes. A small thing. Unspoken. But real.
She hadn't planned on coming back with him.
But after their long conversation, something inside her felt different. Not fixed. But softened.
Her chest didn't feel like a battleground anymore.
It felt like a question mark. Open. Waiting.
He parked outside their building and turned to her. "You don't have to unpack."
"I know."
"I mean—if you still want space. I get it."
She smiled faintly. "You're learning."
He chuckled. "Don't get used to it."
As they stepped inside their apartment, something in the air felt changed. Warmer. Familiar.
Aanya realized she'd missed the scent of sandalwood soap, the faint hum of Arjun's Spotify playlists, the way her slippers were always slightly tilted left even when she straightened them.
Home.
Whatever that meant now.
She dropped her bag, stretched, and then turned around—only to find him watching her.
"What?"
"You came back," he said simply.
"Don't make it a big deal."
"It is a big deal."
She rolled her eyes, but her heart beat a little faster.
"Dinner?" he asked.
She nodded. "I'll cook."
His eyebrows shot up. "You will?"
She smirked. "Don't act so shocked. I *can* cook."
"Yeah, but you usually only do it when you're trying to avoid a conversation."
She gave him a sly grin. "Exactly."
***
By the time she finished, it was nearly 9 PM. The kitchen smelled like garlic and ghee. She had made aloo gobi, jeera rice, and thin rotis—the comfort food of her childhood.
Arjun took a bite and groaned. "Marry me."
She rolled her eyes. "Too late."
"No seriously," he said, holding a bite of aloo toward her. "If you keep cooking like this, I'll stop being possessive and start being obsessed."
Aanya blinked, stunned for a second.
It was the first time he'd joked about it—about the thing they fought about the most.
She laughed. "You already are obsessed."
He smiled. "True."
They ate in silence for a bit. Not the tense kind. The companionable kind. Like people who'd finally stopped holding their breath.
"Do you want to watch something?" he asked after clearing the table.
She hesitated. "I should study."
He nodded. "Fair."
But then he reached over and brushed her hair behind her ear.
Her skin tingled.
"If you ever need a break," he said, voice low, "you know where to find me."
Then he walked away.
And left her staring after him.
***
It was past midnight when a knock at the door startled her.
Aanya frowned.
Arjun opened it—then immediately stepped back.
"Ma?" he said, confused.
His mother stood in the doorway, a suitcase by her side, lips pursed tight.
"Oh," she said, eyes sweeping the apartment. "So you *are* alive."
"Ma, what—"
"I called you five times last week. No answer."
"I was busy—"
"Busy forgetting you have a mother?"
Arjun rubbed the back of his neck. "Come in."
His mother entered, looking around like a queen inspecting a new kingdom.
She glanced at Aanya once. "So she's here now. Interesting."
Aanya's stomach twisted.
She hadn't forgotten how icy their first meeting was. Or the snide remarks during the wedding. Or the way Arjun's mother had once called her "ambitious like a man."
"I thought you were staying at your parents' place," she said to Aanya.
Aanya stood tall. "I was. Now I'm home."
"Home," Arjun's mother repeated, like the word tasted bitter.
There was silence.
Arjun cleared his throat. "Ma, why are you here?"
"Can't a mother visit her son?"
"Not with a suitcase."
She glared. "You're always defensive now. Ever since she came into your life."
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting. I'm *noticing.* You don't come home. You barely call. You don't even pick up your sister's calls."
"Maybe because every time I do, she tries to meddle in my marriage," he snapped.
Aanya stepped back slightly, surprised by the sharpness in his tone.
His mother turned to her. "What have you done to him?"
"Nothing," Aanya said calmly. "This is just who he is when he doesn't have to perform."
His mother looked like she'd been slapped.
"I raised him better than this."
"No," Aanya said quietly. "You raised him to be obedient. Not honest. There's a difference."
Arjun looked at her—something like awe flickering behind his anger.
His mother exhaled. "I'm staying here for a few days."
Arjun hesitated.
Aanya beat him to it. "Of course. Stay as long as you like."
She gave a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
And walked into the bedroom.
***
Later that night, Arjun slipped into the room.
She was lying on her side, back to him.
He sat at the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" she whispered.
"Everything. I didn't know she was coming."
"I know."
He touched her shoulder. "Thank you. For not fighting her. Even when she deserved it."
"She's your mother. I won't disrespect her."
"You defended me," he said, voice thick. "No one's done that in a long time."
She turned to face him. "I didn't do it for you."
He smirked. "Liar."
She smiled too. "Maybe a little for you."
His hand found hers again. No hesitation now.
"I hate how this feels so good," she whispered.
"Then don't fight it."
She looked at him. At the tired lines on his face, the stubborn crease of his jaw, the warmth in his eyes.
He wasn't perfect.
But maybe, just maybe…
He was hers.
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**[End of Chapter 12]**