'Ishan Oberoi' - The name that echoes success, power, and resilience. A rising billionaire who carved his empire with his own hands, refusing to ride on his father's wealth. Yet, he never turned his back on his responsibilities as a son. Balancing h...
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AADHRITI'S POV :
"Ahm... ahm," I cleared my throat, desperately trying to stop the smile that was now physically hurting my cheeks. My eyes darted anywhere but his—at the trees, the pond, the sky, the squirrels—anywhere.
I could still feel his words echoing around me like a secret melody I wasn't ready to face head-on.
He chuckled under his breath, and I turned to find him running a hand through his hair—casual, but not really. The faintest blush now colored his cheeks and dusted his ears, and he was avoiding my eyes too.
He had just realized what he'd said.
And that somehow made it even more real.
Even more precious.
After a moment to myself, I decided to change the topic. My heart was still beating a little too fast from all the teasing, and I needed something—anything—to steady it.
"So, again—you didn't tell me about the nickname."
His lips twitched slightly, and I caught the hint of a smile forming—shy, like it had crept up on him without warning.
"Ohh yeahh," he said, voice soft, almost hesitant. "I asked you to click a picture in your mirror before leaving. Did you—have you done that?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Then show me."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. Was he trying to divert the topic? I had asked him about the nickname he'd been teasing me with since morning, and here he was... changing lanes.
"No, I won't," I said flatly, crossing my arms for dramatic effect.
"First, you tell me the nickname."
The faint confusion on his face disappeared the moment I added the last part, and the way his lips curved told me he was enjoying this far more than he should.
He smiled at my reaction—calmly, annoyingly—and something about that quiet confidence irritated me just a little more.
"Do I look like a clown?" I asked, the whine in my voice not even subtle anymore.
"No," he said with a chuckle, "you look like a baby."
His eyes softened as he said it, that curve on his lips still intact, gentle yet unrelenting. I didn't respond. I simply puffed my cheeks in mock annoyance and sat there—acting exactly like the baby he claimed I resembled.
He tilted his head and grinned a little more, satisfied.
"Acha baba, show me the photo, your answer is there only."
(Alright, fine—show me the photo. Your answer is right there.)
With an exaggerated sigh, I unlocked my phone and handed it over to him.
