"You absolutely do." He pushed her glasses up her nose with one finger, the gesture casual and intimate. "Every single day. 'Your schedule.' 'You're late.' 'Stop being impossible.' You're terrifying when you want to be."
Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched. "That's different."
"It's the same. Except this time, you're the expert. You know this material better than anyone in that room." He leaned closer, voice dropping. "So you're going to walk in there and show them why you earned this degree. Just like you show me every day why I'm lucky to have you managing my chaos."
Something warm bloomed inside her. The anxiety didn't disappear, but it felt manageable. Contained.
"Eat," he said again, pushing the plate closer. "You need energy to be properly intimidating."
This time, she picked up her spoon.
Ishani grinned from across the table. "See? Vikram's good for something after all."
"I heard that," Vikram said without looking away from Divya.
"You were meant to."
By the time Divya finished eating, not everything, but enough to satisfy Vikram's watchful gaze, she felt better. Still nervous, but no longer paralyzed.
This was it. The final stage. Everything she'd worked for culminating in this one presentation.
And despite the terror, she felt something else too. Hope. The kind that came from knowing she'd done the work, that she'd earned her place in that room.
And maybe some of that hope came from the man sitting beside her. The one kept showing her in a hundred small ways that she mattered.
An hour later, Divya stood at the front door, bag packed with notes and printed thesis copies. The entire family had gathered to see her off, Kavita adjusting her dupatta one last time, Harshit offering final words about handling difficult examiners, Raghav and Ishani giving encouraging smiles.
But it was Vikram who walked her to the door.
"Car's arranged," he said. "Ravi will drive you. He'll wait."
"I know. Thank you."
"You sure you don't want me to come? I can sit outside, wait in the car…"
"No." She shook her head quickly. "I need to do this myself."
Pride flashed across his face. "You're going to be brilliant."
"I hope so."
"I know so." He squeezed her hand. "And when you come back, we'll celebrate."
She managed a smile. "Deal."
She turned toward the car, took two steps. His hand caught hers. Pulled her back gently.
She turned, a question forming, but before she could speak, he'd closed the distance between them. His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones with aching tenderness. For a heartbeat, he just looked at her, drinking her in like he was memorizing every detail.
Then he leaned down, slow and deliberate, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.
She didn't want to.
His lips pressed against her forehead, soft and lingering. But this wasn't the casual affection he'd shown before. This was different. His mouth stayed there, warm and reverent, while one hand slid from her face to cradle the back of her neck. His fingers threaded through the hair at her nape, the touch sending shivers down her spine.
"Good luck," he murmured against her skin, the words a caress. His breath warmed her temple as he pressed another kiss there, then another at the corner of her eye. Feather-light. Devastating.
Her heart hammered so hard she forgot how to breathe.