Chapter 4: Tentative Steps

The days following the formal meeting at the Oberoi were marked by a polite, almost ritualistic, exchange of messages. Prompted by their mothers, Aryan and Anaya began to communicate, initially through texts that read more like formal letters than casual chats.

“Good morning, Anaya. I trust you had a pleasant evening yesterday. – Aryan.”

“Good morning, Aryan. Yes, thank you. I hope your day is productive. – Anaya.”

It was a slow, measured dance. Aryan, immersed in the demanding world of finance, found his thoughts occasionally drifting to the quiet artist. His days were a whirlwind of board meetings, market analyses, and strategic planning for Sharma Global Industries. He thrived on the challenge, the precision of numbers, and the tangible results of his efforts. Vikram and Rahul, his trusted lieutenants, often found him lost in thought, a rare occurrence for the usually decisive Aryan.

"Everything alright, boss?" Vikram asked one afternoon, noticing Aryan staring blankly at his laptop screen, a half-typed email to Anaya paused.

"Just... navigating new territory," Aryan replied, a wry smile touching his lips.

Meanwhile, Anaya’s world was a symphony of colours and movement. Her mornings were spent at the art academy, her hands smudged with paint, her mind lost in the creation of new pieces. Afternoons often saw her at the dance studio, her body moving with effortless grace to the rhythm of classical music. She poured her soul into her art, finding a freedom there that sometimes felt elusive in her personal life.

"He seems very proper," Anaya confided in Rhea over coffee. "And... serious. Like a textbook."

Rhea chuckled. "Give him time, Anaya. Sometimes the quiet ones have the most interesting stories."

Pooja, ever the optimist, added, "And think of the stability, Anaya! A strong, responsible man."

Neha, ever the realist, interjected, "Or a strong, responsible man who needs to loosen up a bit."

Sneha, however, was already lost in her own thoughts. "Did he mention Ishaan? Aryan's friend, the lawyer? He's quite charming, isn't he?" Anaya rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Sneha's crush on Ishaan was becoming increasingly obvious.

Kian, the novelist, observed his elder brother with a keen, almost clinical, eye. He saw Aryan's attempts at polite conversation, the slight stiffness in his posture when he spoke about the "match." Kian often jotted down notes in his small journal, finding inspiration in the unfolding drama of an arranged marriage in a modern family. "He's trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, isn't he?" Kian mused to Siya one evening.

Siya, always more empathetic, nudged him. "Don't be so cynical, Bhai. Maybe the hole just needs a little reshaping. Or maybe the peg will discover it likes being round." She, too, found herself curious about Anaya, the artist-dancer who might soon become her sister-in-law. Siya, with her own artistic aspirations, wondered how Anaya balanced her passions with family expectations. She often sent Anaya encouraging messages, sharing dance videos, hoping to find a common thread.

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