Chapter 13: The Bench by the Pond
The path to the pond was a narrow ribbon of pale gravel that wound behind the main office blocks, away from the air-conditioned chill of the co-working space and into a pocket of unexpected green. Bagmane Tech Park always surprised her this way. One moment you were surrounded by glass and steel and the low hum of servers, and the next you were standing on the edge of a man-made lake, watching dragonflies skim between the reflections of IT buildings.
Naina walked slowly, her cream kurti catching the late afternoon breeze. The park was nearly empty, a few joggers on the far path, a security guard dozing on a bench near the gazebo. She checked her phone once, a reflex, then tucked it into her bag. No messages from Aarav. No messages from anyone. Just the still water and the sound of wind through the ornamental grasses.
She spotted him from a distance.
Nirav sat on a weathered bench overlooking the pond, his posture loose and unhurried. He wore a simple linen shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and dark trousers. No tie. No laptop bag. He looked like a man who had stepped out of his life entirely, and the sight of him, waiting, patient, sent a small, unwelcome flutter through her chest.
She stopped ten feet away.
“So this is where you disappear to.”
He turned at her voice, and his face broke into a slow smile. “Took you long enough.”
“I had a meeting.” She crossed the remaining distance and stood beside the bench, looking down at him. “You could have just come to the office. We have cafeterias. Chairs. Air conditioning.”
Nirav shrugged, patting the space beside him. “The office has people.”
Naina sat. The wood was warm from the sun, and when she leaned back, her shoulder brushed his. Neither of them moved away.
“People,” she repeated. “You work with people.”
“I work near people.” He gestured toward the pond, where two ducks were fighting over a piece of bread someone had tossed. “Here, I can hear myself think. Water’s calming. Trees don’t ask me for status updates.”
“And you need calm?”
He looked at her then, really looked, and something in his expression shifted. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
The words hung between them, weighted. Naina watched a dragonfly skim the surface of the pond and tried to ignore the way her pulse had quickened.
“The dal,” she said, keeping her voice light. “You mentioned it in your texts. Was that just flattery, or do you actually remember what it tasted like?”
Nirav laughed, a low sound that seemed to come from his chest. “I remember everything about that night.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to admit.”
“Is it?” He tilted his head, studying her. “You invited me into your home. You cooked for me. You gave me wine. That’s not nothing, Naina.”
“You always this direct?”
“Only when I mean it.” He turned slightly toward her. His knee bumped hers and stayed there, casual, like it had happened by accident. Naina didn’t pull away. She watched a leaf drift down from the tree overhead and land on her lap. Nirav reached over and brushed it off, his fingers grazing her thigh for half a second longer than necessary.
“There,” he said. “All clean.”
She smiled without thinking about it. The tension in her shoulders had eased without her noticing. Nirav kept talking, something about a project deadline, his voice low and steady, and Naina found herself leaning in just a little to hear him better, the space between them shrinking without either of them naming it.
Nirav noticed the shift. He shifted his weight, closing the gap even further until his shoulder brushed against hers. She could feel the warmth of his body through the thin cotton of her kurti.
“You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “you have this way of looking like you’re following every rule in the book, Naina. It makes me wonder which ones you’re actually tempted to break.”
Naina felt a jolt of electricity shoot down her spine. She should have been offended, or at least played the part of the modest wife, but the memory of the experiment, the agreement with Aarav, pulsed in the back of her mind. This was the test. This was the discovery.
She didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her head to look at him, her lips parting slightly. “And what makes you think I’m tempted by anything?”
Nirav let out a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes dancing with a playful glint. He didn’t reach for her; instead, he let the silence stretch, letting the tension thicken between them until it felt almost tangible. He leaned in just a fraction more, his breath warm against her cheek, though he remained careful not to break the physical boundary.
“The way you’re looking at me right now,” he whispered, his voice a low vibration. “That’s not the look of someone who follows all the rules.”
Naina felt her heart hammer against her ribs. The flirtation was a game, a delicate dance of words and proximity that left her skin tingling. Just as the air between them felt heavy enough to snap, Nirav pulled back with a sudden, effortless grace, breaking the spell.
"As much as I'd love to keep you here," he said, his tone returning to a casual, lighthearted cadence, "we should probably head back. People might start noticing if I'm missing for too long, and I'd rather not give the office any more gossip than they already have."
He stood up in one fluid motion, the sunlight catching the sharp lines of his silhouette. As he reached his full height, he turned back to her and extended his hand, palm up, offering her a way up from the bench.
Naina looked at his hand for a heartbeat, acknowledging the gesture with a small, polite smile. However, she didn't take it. Instead, she placed her own palms on the wooden slats of the bench and pushed herself up independently, smoothing out the creases of her cream kurti with a practiced, modest elegance.
She stood before him, the distance restored but the memory of the tension still humming between them.
They walked side by side across the grass, the earlier tension softening into something lighter. Naina's cream kurti swayed with each step, and Nirav kept his hands in his pockets, matching her pace without crowding her. When they reached the glass doors, he held one open, letting her pass first. Their shoulders brushed again—just barely—as they stepped inside, and neither of them mentioned it.
"Thank you for the walk, Naina," he said, stepping just close enough that his words brushed against her ear.
"We only came out here to stretch our legs," Naina says, her tone light, glancing back over her shoulder. A strand of hair has escaped her loose braid, sticking to the damp curve of her neck.
Nirav watches the way her kurti shifts against her shoulder blades as she navigates.
“True.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Text me later?”
She nodded.
He turned and walked away, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path. Naina watched him go, her body still humming with the echo of his words. When he disappeared, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Her phone buzzed. Aarav was calling, though the screen only said Mannu, heart, the way she’d saved him years ago.