Enchanted melody of our hearts( Edited version)

🤯SHOCK ATTACK-CHAPTER-16

Third pov:

 Meera and Adrian were living in a sweet little bubble of excitement and slow-burn love. Ever since Meera, Elena, and Dahlia nailed their audition for the inter-college dance competition, their days had been filled with laughter, rehearsals, and a whole lot of music. Their mixed dance routine had stunned the crowd—bold, full of energy, and just the right mix of spice and sass.

Adrian, despite his own whirlwind of responsibilities, found a way to be there—for Meera, for her practices, and even for those little post-rehearsal snack runs. He managed his work remotely, never missing a chance to check on her or quietly admire her from the back row of the auditorium, always with that soft smile that made Meera's heart do somersaults.

He was changing, too. True to his promise, Adrian had cut down on smoking and drinking. It wasn't easy. The pull of the underground boxing ring still haunted him on bad days—the rush, the fight, the fire. And Meera noticed. She saw the tension in his shoulders, the silence in his eyes.

But instead of lecturing him, she offered something better.
"Why not join our college boxing club?" she asked one evening, voice gentle but steady. "It's safer. And it'll still give you that adrenaline kick without all the danger."

Adrian blinked, surprised—not at the idea, but at how deeply she got him. Most people tried to pull him away from the fire. Meera? She gave him a torch and showed him a better path.

"Maybe you're right, Fresa," he said, voice low but hopeful. "Maybe this is what I need."

And just like that, he gave it a shot.

The college boxing club wasn't gritty or raw like the underground, but it gave him something real. A purpose. A focus. And it helped him stay close to Meera—his soft, stubborn little firecracker who knew exactly when to push and when to hold him close.

Day by day, their love grew. Not in grand gestures, but in small things—his hand finding hers during a break, her sneaking water bottles into his gym bag, his hoodie always ending up on her shoulders after practice.

They were building something steady, something beautiful.

Meera pov:

The night breeze was cool against my cheeks as I tiptoed onto the balcony, phone pressed to my ear like some hopeless heroine in a romantic drama. I couldn't help but smile when I spotted him—Adrian—already out on his own balcony, mirroring me.

He looked unfairly good. The moonlight kissed the angles of his face just right, his sleeveless tee clung to him like it was made for his body, and that little silver chain around his neck caught the light and twinkled. My stomach did this weird fluttery thing, and I quickly looked away, hoping my cheeks didn't give me away. Too late—they were on fire.

"So..." I started, trying to act chill, "how was your first day at the boxing club?"

He let out the most dramatic groan through the receiver. "Ay, Meera, don't even get me started," he muttered like a frustrated movie villain. "Those kids—like glass. I threw one jab, and they scattered like pigeons. What am I supposed to do with all this energy, huh?"

I burst out laughing, already picturing it—Adrian, all intense and serious, surrounded by terrified juniors who probably just came to work on fitness, not survive a hurricane.

He continued, "Maldita sea..." something in rapid Spanish I didn't catch.

"Huh? What did you say?" I asked, blinking.

He chuckled, all deep and raspy, and it went straight to my knees. "Just some...colorful vocabulary, Fresa. Don't worry about it." He stretched, arms flexing, casually killing me. "Coach Marshall keeps yelling at me to play clean—no dirty punches, no raw moves. But you know, that's not exactly my style."