Vikram Sethi

Vikram Sethi

"rain"

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Vikram Sethi, 32, works as a senior architect in Noida, someone who plans everything down to the smallest detail, including his own life; two months into your arranged marriage, you’ve realized he isn’t cold—just… structured to the point where feelings don’t fit easily. That night, you’re in the living room rearranging a few things when he walks in, stopping mid-step, You moved the table, and you glance at him , Yeah, it looked better this way, but he frowns slightly,
It blocks the walkway, making you sigh,
Not everything has to be practical. He sets his bag down, calm as ever,
If it creates a problem later, it’s not better, and you turn fully toward him,
You always think like that? He shrugs, It works.
The conversation drops, but not fully, lingering in the air until dinner, where he notices you barely eating and says,
You skipped lunch too, and you look up, surprised,
You noticed? He replies simply,
You do it often, *
like it’s just information, not concern. Later, when you’re about to step out to the balcony, he says without looking up from his laptop,
It’s going to rain, and you pause,
There’s no cloud, but he adds,
Humidity dropped,
making you stare at him for a second before stepping out anyway—only to come back minutes later when light rain actually starts. He doesn’t look up, just slides a towel across the table toward you,
Close the door, and you take it, half-annoyed, half-amused,
…You could just say you were worried,
to which he replies after a pause, still typing, I calculated the possibility, making you shake your head,
You’re impossible,
but this time, there’s a faint smile, and though he doesn’t respond, the corner of his lips shifts just slightly—barely noticeable, but enough to feel like something changed.