Maya pov
The air smelled like home.Warm, familiar, and a little overwhelming after four long years.
I stood at the arrival gate of Delhi Airport, clutching the handle of my suitcase, my heart beating a little too fast. The last time I was here, I was just a girl - wide-eyed and ready to chase dreams. Now, I was back after finishing my bachelor's in the U.S., the same city that once felt too small suddenly feeling like everything I ever missed.
My lips curved into a smile at the thought of seeing my parents, of hearing Heer's endless chatter, of my mom's overprotective scolding again. I could already imagine Dad waiting outside with that impatient grin he always wore when I took too long.
But when I stepped out, it wasn't my father's familiar face that someone else.
It was his.
Veer Malhotra.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
He stood by the car, sleeves rolled up, a faint smile tugging at his lips - older now, sharper, calmer. The years had turned him from the boy into something dangerously effortless.
"Hey, Cupcake," he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it still belonged to me.
My heart did a ridiculous little flip. Four years, and he still remembered.
Four years, and I still haven't stopped feeling what I shouldn't.
I tried to sound casual, and tried to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest. "Veer? I thought Papa was coming."
"He got stuck in a meeting," he said, taking my luggage from my hand before I could protest. "Told me to bring his favorite daughter home safe."
I laughed softly, following him to the car. "Favorite? Don't let Heer hear that."
He glanced back at me, his eyes catching mine for just a second too long. "Some things don't change, cupcake."
And in that moment - with Delhi sun spilling golden through the windshield, and his voice stirring every buried memory - I realized he was right.
The ride from the airport was quieter than I expected. The city outside blurred past, familiar yet different - like an old song played in a new rhythm. I sat beside him, hands tangled in my lap, pretending to scroll through my phone even though my fingers hadn't moved for the last ten minutes.
He drove with the calm. One hand steady on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gear. His jawline was sharper now, his hair a little longer than before, and that faint cologne - the one I secretly used back then - still lingered in the air.
I told myself not to stare. Not to notice. But my heart didn't listen.
It's strange - how someone you've known your whole life can suddenly feel unfamiliar in all the right ways.
Veer Malhotra.
My father's best friend's son.
My next-door neighbor.
My secret crush.
The boy who used to tease me for stealing cupcakes from his mom's kitchen.
The man who now sat beside me, silent and composed, completely unaware of the chaos fluttering inside me.
I wanted to say his name, just once. But it felt... too personal now, too heavy on my tongue.
So instead, I asked softly, "How's everyone at home?"
He looked at me briefly, his lips twitching into that half-smile that always made me forget how to breathe.
"They're all waiting for you. Mom made your favorite cupcakes. Vani's been counting the days."
A warmth spread through me at the mention of his family - our families, really. They'd been close forever. Every festival, every celebration, every ordinary Sunday - the Malhotras and Sharma's were together.
I turned to the window, watching sunlight spill over the roads, and whispered mostly to myself, "It feels strange... being back."
He glanced at me again, voice low but gentle. "Strange good or strange bad?"
I smiled faintly. "Strange like... everything's the same, but I'm not."
For a moment, he didn't reply. Then, in that calm, steady voice of his, he said, "Maybe that's not a bad thing."
My heart skipped again.
Because only he could make a simple sentence sound like it meant more than it should.
I looked out the window, pretending not to blush.
He focused back on the road.
To be continued...
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