Saturday arrived faster than Naina had expected, and with it, a deep sense of unease.
Arjun's vague promise of "You'll see" had done nothing to calm her nerves. She had tried—multiple times—to get him to spill the details, but all she got were cryptic smirks and annoying deflections.
So here she was, dressed in a casual blue kurti and jeans, standing outside her house, arms folded, waiting for the human disaster named Arjun Sharma to appear.
Right on cue, she heard the unmistakable sound of a scooter engine struggling for its life.
Her brows furrowed. Wait. That sounds like—
"Hop on, Naina!" Arjun grinned, pulling up in front of her on a familiar, beat-up yellow scooter.
Naina's jaw dropped. "Is that—IS THAT MY NEIGHBOR'S SCOOTER?"
Arjun had the audacity to look offended. 'Borrowed. Not stolen.'
I—Arjun, you cannot just take people's vehicles without permission!
I asked their cat. The cat blinked. That's basically consent.
"Oh my god," Naina whispered, rubbing her temples. "We're going to jail."
Arjun patted the empty space behind him. "Not if we leave before they notice. Now, get on before my karma catches up with me."
She sighed, half considering calling the police herself. But curiosity—and the undeniable thrill of adventure—won out. Muttering a thousand regrets under her breath, she climbed on.
---
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at their destination: a small, cozy-looking shop tucked between two giant bookstores in the older part of town. The sign above read: "Chatterjee's Hidden Treasures" in elegant golden script.
"A bookstore?" Naina asked, her curiosity piqued.
Arjun nodded. "Not just any bookstore. The bookstore. You're always complaining about how you can never find first editions of your favorite classics. This place has them."
Naina blinked. "Wait. You actually listen when I talk?"
Arjun scoffed. "Of course. I just pretend I don't."
For the first time that morning, Naina smiled.
They stepped inside, and the smell of old paper, ink, and a hint of chai wrapped around them like a warm embrace. The shop was a maze of tall wooden shelves, crammed with books of every shape and size. Soft instrumental music played in the background, and an elderly man with round spectacles peered at them from behind the counter.
'Ah, young lovebirds! he greeted, beaming.
Naina choked. "Excuse me, what?"
'We're not—she's not—I mean, no,' Arjun stammered, his ears turning red.
The shopkeeper chuckled. "Ah, but I see the future." He winked before shuffling away.
Naina turned to Arjun, smirking. Young lovebirds, huh?
'Shut up and look at your books,' Arjun grumbled, walking off.
Naina laughed, but as she wandered through the shelves, something warm curled in her chest.
She hated to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, Arjun Sharma wasn't the worst thing to happen to her after all.
--END--