DCP Sir ❤ I Luv U (Completed)

Chapter 9

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Unspoken Words & Scribbled Note. 📜

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The next morning, the sun seemed to glare down at them with a judgmental heat. The three girls stood outside the Traffic Police Office, looking like three wilted flowers. 

The bravado of the previous night had evaporated, replaced by the grim reality of bureaucracy and the haunting memory of a certain DCP's gaze.

"Just pay the fine, get the keys, and let's leave before we run into any problem." Sandhya muttered, checking her watch nervously.

Sowmya nodded vigorously, her usual dramatic energy replaced by a quiet desire to be invisible. "Exactly. No eye contact with anyone in a uniform. That's the goal for today."

Sandhya nudged Mythili with her elbow. "Go... you're the one who was 'managing' everything. Go pay the fine."

Mythili dug her heels in, her heart doing a nervous pitter-patter at the mere thought of entering that building. "Why me? You both go. I'll wait here with the bags. I'll keep the scooty ready to bolt the moment you get the keys."

Sowmya rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Ammai gaaru... did you just forget whose bike is currently sitting in the seizure lot? It's your bike, you were the one driving! If the owner goes in, they might ask no more questions. You're the 'birthday girl,' remember? Go use your charm."

(Ammai gaaru- My lady)

She cursed herself under her breath. 'Nene thala dhurchali prathidantlo...' (why do I have to stick my head into everything...)

With a heavy sigh and a pout that could melt stone, she walked into the office. Luckily, the process was purely administrative. She paid the fine, signed the papers, and collected the keys.

As they rode away, Mythili felt a strange mix of relief and... something else.

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A week later...

A whole week had passed since their midnight encounter, but for Mythili, time seemed to have slowed down. Her mind had become a cinema hall, constantly replaying that night on a loop.

She remembered the way the cool night air felt, the smell of the interior of his car—a mix of expensive cedarwood and something uniquely him—and the way he had held her hand. It wasn't a rough grip; it was firm, warm, and protective.

'Why did he hold my hand like that? And why did my heart act like it was running a marathon?' she wondered, staring blankly at her textbook.

Every detail haunted her: the way he advised her not to roam late, his hidden care behind that stern mask, and the way he had dropped them right at their doorstep. She found herself liking every bit of it, a realization that terrified and thrilled her at the same time.

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Life slowly tried to return to its normal rhythm. There were lectures to attend, endless assignments to complete, and the constant, comforting laughter of her friends. But sometimes, without any warning, her thoughts would drift back to the temple, back to the 'Jail' threat, and finally, back to the car ride.

She didn't want to question herself. She didn't want to admit that a man she barely knew had occupied a permanent suite in her mind.

"Hey, you guys go home." Mythili said as they walked out of college that afternoon. "I'm going to the market to get groceries. The fridge is literally screaming in emptiness."