[Scene: Wedding night. Bedroom. Two suitcases. One bed. One silence.
Kabir walks in first. Removes his watch. Doesn’t look back.
Inaaya enters softly, gold lehenga slightly trailing, dupatta still pinned.]
Inaya
Kabir
You can take the bed.
Inaya
(standing near the door):
It’s yours too.
Kabir
We don’t have to pretend tonight.
Inaya
I’m not pretending.
I’m just… here.
Kabir
Right.
Here because two families wanted us here.
Inaya
(quietly)
You didn’t want this?
Kabir
No
[Silence. He sits on the edge of the bed. She stays standing. Not offended — just… still.]
Inaya
(after a long pause):
Your mother said you were honest.
Kabir
(half a laugh):
Didn’t think you’d get the honest version on day one, huh?
Inaya
I’d rather this than fake smiles and forced poetry.
Kabir
You’re calm.
Inaya
I was taught that storms pass faster if you stay still.
[He finally looks up. Really looks at her. Her face isn’t bold. It’s soft. Open. No makeup drama. Just real skin. Real eyes. A little tired. A little brave.]
Kabir
You’re… not what I imagined.
Inaya
Same
Kabir
So?
Inaya
(walking to her suitcase):
So we start with respect.
Not romance. Not expectations.
Kabir
I can do that.
[She picks out a simple cotton night suit. Not shy, but not showy either. Walks past him toward the bathroom.]
Kabir
(before she shuts the door):
Hey.
Inaya
(turns slightly):
Yes?
Kabir
You looked beautiful tonight.
Inaya
(soft smile):
Thank you.
You looked… trapped.
Kabir
(blinks):
I was.
Inaya
Maybe one day, you won’t be.
[Door closes. He exhales. For the first time tonight, not from pressure — but from something else. Maybe curiosity.]
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