I told him the news.
He didn’t miss a beat.
“Congratulations,” he said warmly, before adding with that familiar teasing tone, “I might surprise you and show up.”
I laughed immediately. “You won’t.”
“Should we bet on it?” he asked.
“No. I don’t like betting.”
“So what do you like?”
“Nothing,” I answered quickly, hiding behind the joke.
He laughed softly. “You just killed the excitement.”
“I know, Paa.”
“You can’t be an anti-climaxer.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, feeding the conversation without meaning to.
“Looks like excitement suits you,” he replied smoothly.
I smiled to myself. “I actually love that word.”
“You should behave.”
“Once in a while, I think I can misbehave.”
There was a pause after that. Not empty. Not awkward. Just full of something heavier than laughter.
Then he said quietly, “Once in a while? Maybe too often for you.”
My heart stumbled a little at the way he said it. Like there was another conversation hidden beneath the one we were having.
I could feel myself smiling, even though no one could see me.
So I laughed softly and chose the only defense that could save me from saying too much.
“What are you talking about?” I asked innocently.
He laughed on the other end, knowing very well that I understood every word.
But some moments are too sweet to confess too quickly. So I held onto mine a little longer, pretending not to understand.
