Page 95 of Lawfully Yours

He nodded slowly. “I’ve got cough lozenges in the glovebox, if you need one. They clear the throat… permanently.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just drive, Kushal.”

He didn’t reply, just turned his gaze back to the road, hiding his lopsided smug smile.

And Arundhati? She bit the inside of her cheek, pretending to look out the window again. Pretending her heart hadn’t just skipped a beat for no good reason.

As soon as they reached the temple, Arundhati felt that hush in the air, like the place had been frozen in time. The grounds were nearly deserted. Except for a few distant figures immersed in quiet prayer, there was something undeniably sacred about it.

It was colder here than she expected, the wind biting at her arms. She realised with a grimace that she’d left her jacket in the car. Kushal hadn’t brought one either, but in the case of Kushal, with the kind of heat he radiates, even the breeze would melt before it reached his skin.

God,how many times was she going to swoon internally over this man’s absurd hotness? It was becoming a full-time mental hobby these days. Irritated with herself, she walked alongside him, pretending the chill didn’t bother her, pretending he didn’t either.

They passed beneath a low stone arch into the heart of the temple grounds when he spoke. “My dad brought my mom here. During their honeymoon.”

She stopped in her tracks, surprised. He noticed and turned toward her, nodding.

“Yes,” he said. “Dalhousie was where they came for their honeymoon. And if you’re not going to laugh at me for it, I’ll admit... I’m a honeymoon baby.”

“Seriously?” she almost laughed. “You? A honeymoon baby? The man who’s practically famous for grooming his attitude all the time? You do know, right, it’s a saying that honeymoon babies are the most romantic ones in their lives, too.”

He stepped closer and pulled her toward him.

“Look who’s talking about romantic traits?” he asked. “The woman who’s practically famous for her ego touch-up all the time.”

She frowned, pushing against his chest. “Whatever! This isn’t about us, Kushal. You were talking about your parents. Finish that.”

He exhaled and took a step back, shrugging off the moment. “They were childhood sweethearts for years before they got married. Hence, after their marriage, they hurried to start a family. They didn’t want to wait.”

Arundhati listened, more invested than she expected. He hadn’t spoken much about his parents during their marriage, certainly not with this kind of openness.

“That’s sweet,” she murmured.

“What’s sweeter,” he said, glancing toward the temple steps, “is that they made a wish here. Right here. And it came true.”

That caught her attention. Her eyes widened slightly as she followed his gaze toward the small, ancient temple surrounded by tall pines. He began walking again, and she moved beside him, hanging on his words.

“This is one of the oldest temples dedicated to Lord Shiva in the region,” he continued. “They say couples come here to make a wish. And if your heart is in it, Lord Shiva never says no.”

She stopped again, watching him carefully. “Then you’ve brought me to the wrong place,” she replied. “You already know what I want.”

Pain flickered in his eyes.

“No,” he whispered. “You think you know what you want. But it’snotwhat youreallywant.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect the rising warmth in her chest. “Is that so? Since you apparently know my heart better than I do, why don’t you tell me what I should ask for, Kushal?”

Without replying, he gently turned her toward the inner sanctum of the temple where the Shiva idol stood, cloaked in marigolds and incense smoke.

“Just close your eyes,” he said, standing close behind her, his lips brushing the edge of her ear, “and you’ll know.”

She closed her eyes, just as he asked.

And the moment she did, the only thing that flashed in her mind, the only image her heart offered, washim. Kushal. Again and again.

Only him.

He appeared not as one memory, but as dozens…rushing in all at once, crashing through the barricades she had carefully built inside herself. She saw the fragments of their life together like flashes of light behind closed lids. She saw him leaning over the stove, asking if she liked the way he chopped vegetables. Their hands brushing as they set the table. The quiet glances across the dinner plates.