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 into 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.