After the call was made, Kiaan finally felt at ease. He switched off his phone without hesitation, placing it inside the drawer.
They got up from the bed. Kiaan spread out a fresh bedsheet, embroidered with tiny red roses. He moved with purpose, straightening the corners, smoothing out creases. Kavi tried to help, but Kiaan waved him off.
"Don't lift a finger," Kiaan said with a smirk.
"I'll lift two," Kavi replied, grabbing a pillow and fluffing it with exaggerated care.
Kiaan rolled his eyes fondly and let him help. He gathered the clothes from the night before and dropped them into the laundry basket, then picked up scattered things wrappers, towels, the water bottle rolling on the floor and tidied up the room until everything looked new again.
In the kitchen, Kiaan started making coffee exactly the way Kavi liked it. Caramel, sweet, with creams. Kavi leaned against the counter, watching him work.
"You've become domesticated," Kavi teased, bumping his shoulder lightly against Kiaan's.
Kiaan gave a quiet laugh, stirring the sugar in with a gentle clink. "Only for you."
After coffee, they brushed side by side, sharing the mirror, bumping elbows. Then they stepped into the shower together, warm water washing away whatever lingered from last night before.
Kavi rummaged through Kiaan's closet afterward, towel still around his waist. "Nothing fits me," he grumbled. He picked a t-shirt that hung too loose on his frame, it reached halfway down his thighs—and struggled to find trousers that wouldn't slide off.
Kiaan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him. "That's what happens when you grow up and I grow out."
Kavi looped a belt twice around his waist and struck a pose. "Fashion."
Kiaan burst out laughing. "You look like a child trying on dad's clothes."
They stepped out a little later, walking down a narrow dirt path that led from the farmhouse. The entire property, including the surrounding land, was privately owned by Kiaan. He'd bought it during their relationship back when things were new and filled with silent promises. He'd wanted to bring Kavi here for years. And now he did.
They walked hand in hand, unbothered by time, through the open rural lanes. There were no cars, no honking horns just the sound of birds, the distant bark of dogs, and the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes.
After walking for miles, they entered a small village. The world felt slower here. No bikes zipped by. No one was in a rush. Farmers walked with calm, measured steps, carrying baskets or bundles over their heads. Women passed by with their faces covered in vibrant sari scarves, glancing curiously at the boys before going on their way.
No one recognized them. No one cared who they were.
Children played with sticks and old tires, chasing each other through dusty fields.
Some had kites, others played cricket with a wooden plank and a battered rubber ball.
There were goats wandering freely, their bells jingling. Smoke curled up from small mud stoves as women prepared lunch under makeshift awnings.
Kavi's eyes widened, his steps quickening with excitement. He had never seen a place like this before. Everything was so raw, so alive.
But what truly surprised him was the group of men dressed as women graceful in saris, their faces done up in bright makeup, laughing and talking freely. One of them waved and approached the boys.
"Are you lost, darlings?" they asked with a flirty smile, tilting their head playfully.
Kavi grinned, intrigued. "Yes, we are."
The person took Kavi's hand and examined it like a palm reader. "Where are you headed to, sweetie?"
Kiaan cleared his throat loudly from the side. "We're just exploring."
The person turned to him and winked. "Mera naam hai Nahala. Aur tum? Tera naam kya hai?" (My name is Nahala. And you? What's your name?)
They exchanged names, and after a few laughs, Kiaan explained they weren't lost just looking to explore more of the village and hopefully grab something to eat.
Nahala clapped their hands. "Come! I'll take you to the best place in the village. You're in good hands."
They walked to a small roadside dhaba with benches and an open kitchen. Smoke drifted up from an old iron pan where a woman was frying something crispy.
The scent of ghee and spice hung in the air. Kiaan ordered chole bhature for both of them, along with two glasses of sweet lassi. They sat at a table with Nahala, watching the world go by.
Kavi's arm was draped over Kiaan's casually. It was the kind of touch that didn't need explaining. Anyone with eyes could tell what they were.
When Nahala asked, "Are you two…?" Kavi opened his mouth to respond , but Kiaan spoke first.
"Yes."
Kavi blushed, looking down with a smile.
Nahala gently smacked Kavi's chest with the back of their hand. "I could tell! You glow when you look at him."
The food arrived shortly after. The chole was spicy, the bhature puffed up like balloons, golden and crispy.
Kiaan and Nahala ate without hesitation, licking fingers and wiping plates clean with every last bite. Although Kavi ate a little it was still better than before when he barely eat.
After the meal, Nahala offered to give them a proper tour of the village. They walked through the farmland as Nahala explained everything the crops, the labor, the struggles. Kavi listened intently.
They passed a group of farmers working under the harsh afternoon sun. Most were bent at the waist, their hands thick with dirt as they planted seedlings since there were no machines to use.
A woman had her child tied to her back with cloth, barely flinching as she moved in rhythm with the others.
"They work from sunrise to sunset," Nahala said. "And sometimes they still can't afford a proper meal at night. The middlemen take most of the money."
Kavi stopped walking, his eyes fixed on the field. He didn't speak for a while. His throat felt tight. Watching the people …real people work this hard and get so little in return shook something in him.
Without a word, he stepped into the field, rolling his clothes up. Kiaan followed. They knelt beside the workers, asking how they could help.
For the rest of the afternoon, the three of them joined in planting, lifting, listening. Their clothes got muddy, their backs ached, but neither of them complained.
Kavi had never felt so connected to something outside his world of polished floors and luxury perfumes. He was tired, yes. But in that moment, under the open sky, he felt grounded.
Kiaan had insisted Kavi sit down and rest, seeing how drained he looked after hours under the sun. But Kavi, stubborn as ever, refused to sit idle.
Even while exhausted, he didn't complain. Instead, he pretended to take water breaks, wiping his brow, sipping slowly, then quietly returning to help the farmers until the sky began to darken and the birds returned to their trees.
Their clothes were stained with mud and sweat, dust clinging to their skin.
Nahala, ever practical and unbothered, handed Kavi a sari and Kiaan a lungi to change into. Kavi blinked at the sari.
"Nahala, seriously?" he asked, holding up the fabric.
Nahala rolled her eyes with a grin. "Darling, no one cares here. You'll blend right in. Besides, you'll look fabulous."
With a hesitant smile, Kavi took it. Kiaan couldn't stop chuckling at the sight of him trying to drape it. "Come on, let's go before the moon's up."
Nahala led them through a narrow path behind the fields, the air filled with the scent of wet earth and cow dung, until they reached a gently flowing stream.
He pointed toward it and turned away politely. "Go on. Wash off all that sweats."
Once alone, Kiaan helped Kavi out of his stained clothes, his touch gentle. They undressed quickly and ran into the cool stream together, the water splashing around their ankles and calves before they sank in fully with a gasp.
Kavi let out a sharp laugh as Kiaan sent a jet of water his way.
"You asshole!" he shouted, splashing him back. A full-blown water fight broke out wild, messy, and gleeful.
Their laughter echoed across the banks, mixing with the chirping of crickets and the gentle gurgle of the stream.
Eventually, breathless and soaking wet, Kiaan floated closer, his eyes soft in the moonlight. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Kavi's forehead.
Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed him.
"Thank you," Kiaan whispered against his lips.
Kavi blinked, his skin glowing under the silver light. "Thank me? For what?"
"For sticking by me," Kiaan murmured. "Even though everything's so… complicated. Too complicated to understand, even for me."
Kavi placed a wet finger over his lips. "Fuck that. If you bring it up again, I'll be mad."
His voice was low but certain. Kiaan smiled.