The cool morning breeze rustled through the tall trees as Aadav begrudgingly got ready for the Sunday outing his grandmother, Maragatham, had planned for him. It wasn't just a trip—it was a "bonding experience" with his father, Raghav, whose relationship with him was so strained it could give a string of bad connections a run for its money. The thought of spending the day with his father and Maragatham filled Aadav with dread, but what choice did he have? It wasn't like he could say no to her.
"Are you ready yet, Aadav?" Maragatham's voice boomed from downstairs. "We don't have all day. You're going to end up looking like one of those slouching boys with no taste."
Aadav rolled his eyes from the top of the stairs. "Am I being punished for something, Grandma? I feel like I'm about to be exiled to the South Pole."
"You're lucky, I'm giving you a chance to bond with your father," Maragatham called out, almost too cheerfully. "Now, come down before I send your father up to drag you out!"
He sighed dramatically and trudged downstairs, throwing on his hoodie with the oversized logo. The truth was, he didn't care much about clothes. But his grandmother seemed to think that a "father-son bonding day" meant buying some fancy clothes to magically fix their dysfunctional relationship.
Raghav was already in the car, his back stiff as usual, glancing at the time. He looked at his son, barely acknowledging his presence.
"Are we ready, Aadav?" Raghav asked, his voice as robotic as ever.
"Yeah, sure," Aadav muttered. He climbed into the backseat, already planning his escape. Maybe he could just fake a stomach ache and call it a day.
Maragatham, though, was relentless. She hummed a soft Tamil lullaby as she settled into the passenger seat. Her energy was almost too much for Aadav, who had already mentally checked out.
As they drove, the awkward silence was only broken by the occasional sound of Maragatham's happy humming. Aadav couldn't help but wonder how things got so bad. It wasn't like his father was an awful person—he was just… distant. Cold, even. But that didn't explain the disconnect between them.
Raghav, on the other hand, seemed to be the picture of perfect self-control. No smile, no emotion. Just the serious face of a man who had his entire life under control—except for his relationship with his son, which, if anything, was a complete train wreck.
They pulled up to a shopping mall, where Aadav's worst nightmare began to unfold. It wasn't the mall itself; it was the fact that he was about to be forced to spend hours shopping with his father, who probably couldn't care less about his opinions, and his grandmother, who was clearly on a mission to make things "better" whether he liked it or not.
Maragatham marched ahead, and Aadav followed reluctantly.
"Right," she said, looking back at them both, "You two go look at clothes. I'll go check out the tea section and get us something to drink."
Before Aadav could even protest, his father was already nudging him toward the clothing section.
"This is pointless," Aadav grumbled. "I don't need new clothes. I'm fine the way I am."
Raghav didn't seem to hear him, already picking up a few shirts from the shelf and holding them up for inspection. Aadav made a face. "Seriously, Dad? This is ridiculous."
"You should at least look decent when you go out," Raghav said, his voice low and steady. "You're almost 17, Aadav. You need to start looking the part."
"Looking the part of what? Someone who can't make his own decisions?" Aadav shot back. "I'm fine with my hoodie and jeans. I'm not here to impress anyone."
Raghav shot him a look, but didn't say anything. Aadav couldn't help but feel the tension building between them, like it always did. There was no connection, just two people stuck together by fate.
After what felt like an eternity, they eventually made their way to the checkout counter, and the silence was deafening. The awkwardness was suffocating. But at least the shopping part was over. Or so he thought.
"Alright, that's done," Raghav said, as if the ordeal was a milestone. "Now we can head to lunch."
Aadav wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or just more irritated. Lunch was, of course, at a five-star hotel—because that was totally how a father and son were supposed to bond, right? Over expensive food and pretentious waiters.
Once they were seated at the table, Aadav tried to look anywhere but at his father. He was sick of hearing him talk about business or his "plans for the future." Aadav didn't care. All he cared about was how much more of this day he'd have to endure before he could go home and crawl into the safety of his room.
And then, just when he thought it couldn't get worse, Maragatham—bless her heart—decided to ask the one question that Aadav had been desperately hoping to avoid.
"So, Aadav," she said casually, setting her fork down. "How's that Paavna girl? Have you two… improved the relationship?"
Aadav nearly choked on his water. "Grandma! Can we not?"
"Oh, don't act shy with me," Maragatham teased. "I can tell by your face. And I'm your favorite, remember? You can't hide anything from me, especially when it comes to that girl."
Raghav, who had been pretending not to listen, looked at Aadav through narrowed eyes. "Paavna? You're still thinking about that girl? At your age, it's just a distraction. Focus on your studies."
Aadav rolled his eyes. "Dad, please, not you too. Can't we just have one normal meal without you giving me life lessons?"
Raghav was unfazed. "I just want you to succeed, Aadav. That's all."
Aadav turned to his grandmother, who, to his surprise, wasn't backing down. "So, what's the verdict, then? How much progress has been made? Are you two even talking more? Or is it just a little 'awkward' still?"
Aadav could feel his face turning redder by the second. "Grandma, seriously. It's just—"
Maragatham held up her hand, cutting him off. "Aadav, at your age, love is a little confusing, isn't it? But let me tell you something. You have to work for it. Don't be afraid to show her who you really are. Don't let your father's coldness stop you."
Aadav blinked, a little taken aback by her sudden wisdom. "Uh… thanks, Grandma. I think?"
She smiled, obviously pleased with herself. "Just remember to be yourself, and don't rush it. Love isn't a race."
Raghav, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, sighed. "What's the point of all this? He's too young for all of it. Focus on getting good grades, Aadav."
Maragatham gave him a pointed look. "Let the boy figure it out for himself. You can't control everything, Raghav."
The rest of the lunch went by without much more interaction, but Aadav couldn't shake the strange feeling that maybe, just maybe, things were starting to shift. Not with his father—no, that was a lost cause for now—but with his grandmother. She was the one person who had never wavered in her love for him.
As they finished their meal and prepared to leave, Aadav found himself thinking about Paavna. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all. Maybe he didn't need to be so scared of it. Maybe he could figure out how to take the next step.
As Aadav lay in bed that night, he couldn't help but replay the day's events. Paavna—she was still so distant, like a stranger he once knew. How could he bridge the gap? He thought about how he'd approach her the next day. Maybe something simple—like a casual question about her day? No, it had to be more natural. He couldn't overthink it. But then again, he never did know how to be subtle.