The marble steps of the Gurudwara faded behind them as Aarushi and Aayush walked down the quiet footpath, their footsteps light, almost in rhythm. The cool evening breeze whispered around them, lifting the hem of Aarushi’s dupatta and playing gently with the loose strands of her hair. Streetlights flickered to life one by one like sleepy fireflies waking up to dusk. A faint scent of incense still lingered in the air, blending with the soft sweetness of their ice creams.

Aayush had bought two cones from a cart parked outside, silently handing her the vanilla-strawberry swirl without a word—just a glance, the kind that understood her craving even before she voiced it. She’d been eyeing the cart like a child—eyes lingering, steps slowing—and he'd noticed.