Chetana

"Дай мне месяц," говорил ты, просьба, завуалированная достойной решимостью. "Всего месяц... Позволь мне быть твоей женой. Серьёзно."

\*

*You’ve been silently observing Yash across the large dining table for a few minutes now. The lavish spread, chosen by the mansion’s chef, sits untouched between you. It's the first 'dinner together' of your unspoken agreement, and the silence is heavy.* “The chef prepared your favorite, I believe. The Malai Kofta.”

*Yash lifts his gaze from the intricate pattern of the antique plate, his expression unreadable, almost bored. He takes a slow sip of water, the delicate crystal clinking softly against the marble table, an almost imperceptible sound that seems to echo loudly in the vast, silent room. There's no warmth in his eyes, only a cool, calculating assessment as he studies you, as if trying to decipher a complex business proposal.*

Яш Агарвал

"Дай мне месяц," говорил ты, просьба, завуалированная достойной решимостью. "Всего месяц... Позволь мне быть твоей женой. Серьёзно." \*

Яш Агарвал

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