Jhumka

Humming softly, Kanika stepped into the grand mansion, her eyes scanning the familiar hall. She barely made it past the entrance when a middle-aged woman approached, balancing a silver tray in her hands.

With a warm smile, the woman asked, “Aur beta, kaisi ho?”

Returning the smile, Kanika replied, “Aunty, main bilkul theek hoon.”

She turned toward the staircase, eager to escape upstairs, but a sharp, authoritative voice froze her mid-step.

"O banni sa! Kahaan jaa rahi hai? Abhi zinda hoon main— ye nhi khud se aaye, pair chhuye, haal-chaal puche dadi sa k ,kya sab sanskaar ghoont ke pee gayi?”

Kanika clenched her jaw at the sound of the old woman’s voice, muttering under her breath, “Aap zinda hain, yahi toh dukh hai,” before plastering on a fake smile.

Turning around, she approached Dadi Sa, who was lounging like royalty on the grand swing, sipping fresh tea while giving Kanika a pointed, judgmental look. With practiced grace, Kanika bent to touch her feet, then leaned in for the customary hug on both sides.

"Pranam, Dadi Sa. Majboot toh bahut lag rahi ho,” she said sweetly, her sarcasm carefully hidden beneath a veil of politeness.

Dadi Sa snorted. “Chhori, tujhe sharam nahi aati? Pachis ki ho gayi hai, abhi tak yahan wahan dolti phirti hai.”

Kanika shot back, her voice honeyed but sharp, “Toh kya karoon, Dadi Sa? Kamre mein band ho jaun?”

Anakveer’s mother, Maya, tried to defuse the rising tension. “Chhodiye na Maa Sa, abhi toh bachchi hai,” she said, laughing softly.

Dadi Sa wasn’t convinced. “Bachchi?” she scoffed. “Is umar mein toh mera beta paanchvi class mein padhta tha, or Tera anakveer 5 sal ka tha !Aur yeh bachchi hai!”

Suppressing an eye-roll, Kanika feigned concern. “Dadi Sa, aap mere Baba Sa ko samjhao na. Unki wajah se meri shaadi nahi ho rahi. Aap bilkul sahi keh rahi ho—ab tak toh mere paanch bacche hone chahiye the!”

Dadi Sa, taking her words far too seriously, slammed her cup down. “Bilkul! Aaj hi usse baat karti hoon.”

Winking discreetly at Maya, Kanika grinned. “Ji, zaroor samjhaiyega. Ab main chalti hoon, bye!” With that, she dashed up the stairs before the conversation could drag on.

She flung open a familiar door without bothering to knock, releasing a sigh of relief. "Thank God, bach gayi is dadi sa k roast se !" she mumbled, relieved to escape the old lady’s relentless scolding.

But her relief vanished the moment her eyes fell on Anakveer—half-naked, sprawled across the bed in nothing but low-slung black trousers. His messy hair fell over his forehead, and his toned chest rose and fell with every breath.

Her gaze flicked to the clock. 11 a.m.

"Yeh ladka karta kya hai poori raat jo ab tak so raha hai?" she muttered to herself,

Her mind replied: dibri dibri DUB DUB DUB Yes yes yes! 💦

Chi … chi , I can't be this dirty minded , Kanika bestfriend ke bare m Aisa nhi sochte. Shrugging her not so pure thought away she moved further.

Without hesitation, she climbed onto the bed, bouncing heavily to jolt him awake.

"Anak! Utho!" she called out.

A low, sleepy groan escaped his lips. “Uhm… okay,” he mumbled but didn’t budge.

Losing patience, she stomped over to the air conditioner and switched it off. Within moments, the rising heat had him stirring uncomfortably. With a scowl, he opened his eyes.

"Ani, kya kar rahi ho?" His voice was low, rough from sleep.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Main kya kar rahi hoon? Tum dekho! Time dekha hai? 11 baj gaye hain, aur humne decide kiya tha ki hum 11 baje tak nikalenge. Agar jaana hi nahi tha toh pehle bol dete—main tumhara intezaar hi kyun karti?"

In one smooth motion, he reached out and pressed his palm over her mouth. "Ssshh… bas 15 minute !” he said, his tone quiet but firm.

She slapped his hand away with a scowl. "Bro, haath mat lagao! Pata nahi neend mein kya kya chhua hoga tumne," she snapped, scrubbing her mouth with her dupatta.

Chuckling, he shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom. True to his word, within fifteen minutes, he emerged fully dressed—black jeans, a crisp white T-shirt, and his signature leather jacket.

"Chalein, Ani?" he asked, slipping on his watch.

As they descended the stairs, Maya’s voice stopped them.

"Beta, pehle nashta kar lo," she called out.

Kanika smiled politely. "Aunty, maine ghar pe kar liya, thank you."

Anakveer added without emotion, "Main baahar kar lunga."

Kanika nudged him. "Anak, kar lo na breakfast. It won’t take much time."

But before he could respond, Dadi Sa’s voice sliced through the air.

"Beta Kanika, ye 'Anak-Anak' kya laga rakha hai? Use 'Aap' bol kar baat karo—kuch toh tameez rakho."

Kanika barely contained a smirk. Under her breath, she muttered, "Haan, yeh mera pati jo hai ki main ise 'aap' bolun."

Her words, though soft, weren’t lost on Anakveer, who stiffened behind her.

Feigning innocence, she added louder, "Dadi Sa, aap ka pota hi mana karta hai mujhe 'aap' bolne se. Usse samjhaiye."

Anakveer, unbothered, gave a casual shrug. "Dadi Sa, yeh meri dost hai, koi mujhse chhoti thodi na hai."

Without another word, he grabbed Kanika’s wrist and led her outside, leaving the old lady fuming , who was watching everything with a lot of judgmental gaze…” Maya , dekh Lena ek din ye ladki jrun hamare anak k sath kuch ulta kregi . Anak ko to apne ungli p nachati hai .”

Maya, noticing Dadi Sa’s growing irritation, tried to soften the mood. In a calm, affectionate voice, she said, *“Arey, Maa Ji, dono bachpan ke dost hain, bas itna hi. Aap bhi na…”* She smiled warmly before disappearing into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Kanika and **Anakveer** were preparing to head out for shopping. His cousin and her best friend—was getting married, which meant they both needed outfits for the grand occasion.

As always, **Kanika** took the lead. Ever since they became friends, she had taken charge of his wardrobe during special events. Left to his own devices, Anak would live in black and white forever—his entire closet was a monochrome sea, which **infuriated her to no end**. So, naturally, she had declared herself his personal stylist, ensuring he didn’t always look like a villain from a 90s movie. Besides, their friendship dynamic had always been this way—**she dominated, he tolerated**.

After hours of shopping (and Kanika doing most of the decision-making), they were finally driving back when something caught her eye.

*"Anak! Stop the car… stop!"* she squealed, her voice bursting with excitement.

He pressed the brakes, glancing at her with amusement. *"Ab kya ho gaya?"*

Her eyes sparkled as she pointed toward a roadside **stall brimming with oxidized jewelry**. *"Look at those jhumkas! You *know* how much I love them—I need to buy a few,"* she said, already unbuckling her seatbelt.

Chuckling at her enthusiasm, **Anakveer** parked the car, following her to the stall.

While she gleefully tried on jhumka after jhumka, he leaned against the counter, distracted by his phone. **Indifference personified.**

After what felt like an eternity of indecisiveness, Kanika turned toward him with a pout.

*"Anak, batao na—kaunsa acha lag raha hai?"* she demanded.

Without even lifting his gaze from his phone screen, he replied lazily, “Koi bhi le lo. Sab ache lagte hain aap pe ."

Her jaw clenched in frustration. *"Ugh! Tum na… ek kaam thik se nahi kar sakte. Ek toh batao—properly dekho aur batao!"*

Finally, he glanced up and studied her for a moment. His voice, soft and teasing, cut through her impatience.

*"Ani, both are looking good !* he said, shrugging.

Her frustration grew. **Typical Anak behavior**—always easygoing, never taking things seriously. She was on the verge of **smacking him** when, sensing the storm brewing, he quickly took control.

*"Bhai Sa, jo jo madam ne try kiya, sab pack kar do,"* he instructed the stall owner, much to Kanika’s shock.

Her eyes widened as the man carefully packed **all seven pairs** of jhumkas.

*"Anak! Saat? Itne saare kyun?"* she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

He simply handed her the bag and smirked. *"Problem kya hai? Aap thak gayi hogi—ab kuch kha lete hain,"* he said, motioning to her overflowing shopping bags.

Still speechless, Kanika followed him as he steered the car toward their favorite **dhaba**, a cozy little roadside eatery where they often sought refuge from the chaos of the city.

Once they settled on a traditional **charpai**, a waiter came over to take their order. Without waiting for her, Anak smoothly ordered for both of them—he knew her preferences like the back of his hand.

*"Ani, thik hai? Ya kuch naya try karna hai aaj?"* he asked with a teasing smile.

Relaxing into the charpai, she flashed an **okay sign** and grinned. *"Perfect."*

As they waited for the food, Kanika’s mind returned to something that had been bothering her.

*"Anak, ye unfair hai,"* she started, her tone turning serious. *"Tum hamesha mujhse ‘aap’ bolte ho. Lekin mujhe mana karte ho ki main tumhe ‘aap’ na bolun. Kyun? Ab toh main bhi ‘aap’ hi bolungi.”

His playful demeanor shifted as he immediately cut her off.

*"Ani, maine pehle hi clear kar diya tha—aap mujhe ‘aap’ nahi bologi. Bas, khatam,"* he stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Kanika blinked in confusion. Why was it such a **big deal** for him? Why could **he** call her "aap" but she couldn’t do the same?

Her thoughts drifted back to

**when he first made that rule**—a memory that still lingered quietly in the back of her mind.

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