Page 4 of Since You Came Along

‘Yes.’

Raghav couldn’t take the one-word response anymore. ‘C’mon, Meera, please.’

Meera burst out laughing. Her mom had mentioned that Raghav co-founded a financial consultancy firm straight out of business school and had expanded its portfolio threefold in just a couple of years.

He managed the finances of multiple companies, but here he was, struggling with a simple conversation. It made Meera feel better because she wasn’t the only one with quirks.

‘Yes, I sketch and paint,’ she said, offering a more genuine answer.

After a moment, Raghav asked, ‘Can I see some?’

Meera tensed. The last thing she wanted was another offhand remark. She grabbed a few simple drawings, ones that wouldn’t invite criticism. She sat on her bed and patted the spot beside her.

Raghav gave her a small, amused smile before sitting down. She handed him the pages with a neutral expression, trying to hide her nervousness.

When he praised her snowflake signature, he earned a joyful smile. He looked at each drawing carefully and asked how long she’d been doing it.

‘Since I was a kid,’ she replied.

‘So, you were one of those kids who counted down the minutes to drawing class?’ He laughed when she nodded. ‘I was one of those back-benchers, rushing through homework after playing football all evening,’ Raghav added.

‘So, who did your drawings?’ Meera asked.

‘Abhay,’ he chuckled. ‘It was a two-way street. I used to finish both our homework. We’d play as long as we liked before drawing class, and then scramble to finish it all after.’

‘Did you ever get caught?’ she asked, intrigued. His eyes lit up as he recalled his childhood.

‘Once, Abhay missed school after falling sick. I ended up with a terrible drawing. I called Abhay after that. First, I yelled at him, then asked about his health. He promised to make up for it the next day.’

Just when she thought Abhay was sweet, Raghav said, ‘He didn’t show up the next day either. Then the teacher figured out it was Abhay who did my drawings. We had to sit separately after that.’ His sorrowful expression made her giggle.

She patted his shoulder in sympathy. ‘But you survived.’

He shook his head with a smile. ‘Barely. But it made exams easier for me. Don’t tell him I said that.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s our secret,’ she teased.

Raghav kept his focus on the sketch in his hand as he murmured, ‘Meera, I want to apologise for my comment on your sketch.’

He wanted to make sure she forgave him. For some reason, he didn’t want to let her down. ‘It was stupid. I was surprised when you entered and... I’m not good with words.’

Her gaze softened. ‘It’s okay.’

He looked down at the sketch of a guitar surrounded by vines. After a pause, he said, ‘It represents hope, doesn’t it?’

Meera studied the drawing and, when she realised his meaning, her eyes sharpened. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘The guitar looks forgotten with vines encircling it, yet you have painted the guitar with bright colours and the chip resting right on top of it. It’s like holding on to the hope someone will pick it up and play again.’

A smile spread across her face, lighting up her features. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, moved by his words.

Just then, they were called to lunch, and they joined their families. The conversation flowed, filled with laughter and easy banter.

After the meal, Raghav followed Meera to the kitchen, offering to help with the dishes. When everything was put away, he cleared his throat and said, ‘I had fun today.’

‘Me too,’ Meera replied.

Raghav hesitated. His palms were sweaty as he asked, ‘Would you like to go out for coffee with… you know?’

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