Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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As I entered my floor, my thoughts were consumed by her-Nandini. Her presence, her smile, the way she looked in that traditional dress. I had been brooding about why she was late, and my mood had soured because she was leaving early. My thoughts were interrupted when Rakshit exited my office, an inexplicable grin on his face.
He spotted me and performed a theatrical bow, saying, "Your welcome." I raised an eyebrow in confusion but chose not to comment. He sauntered away, and as the elevator doors began to close, he called out, " you can ask her about the ball. She might say yes."
With his cryptic message hanging in the air, I entered my office. There she was, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, lost in the view. The sight of her, bathed in the soft light filtering through the glass, was mesmerizing.
As soon as the door clicked shut, she turned around. "Yash," she began, her voice soft and hesitant, "what I'm about to do is really the first time for me too, so please don't mind if I make any mistakes."
Her words hung in the air, puzzling me. Before I could process her meaning, she walked over and, to my utter astonishment, wrapped her arms around me. The unexpected warmth of her embrace was electrifying. I could hardly believe it; I had wanted this moment for so long, and now that it was here, it felt surreal.
I hugged her back, pulling her close, savoring the sensation of her body pressed against mine. She spoke into my chest, her voice barely audible, "I didn't know you'd be this upset. Please don't be angry. I like teasing Yash more."
Her words were playful, but they did nothing to diminish the intensity of the moment. Her touch, her closeness, made me feel an overwhelming surge of emotions. I never wanted to let her go.
When she tried to pull away, I tightened my embrace, lifting her gently and placing her on my desk. Her eyes held a hint of fear, and I could sense her anxiety about my reaction. But her gesture had already begun to heal the wounds of my frustration. She looked at me, and I saw a mix of concern and curiosity in her gaze.
I lifted her chin, drawing her closer to me. The proximity was intoxicating, and I could feel the heat of her breath mingling with mine. "What did Rakshit actually tell you that made you think I'm acting like this?" I asked, my voice was low and earnest.
She chuckled, her laughter a sweet melody. "He told me you were upset because I didn't come in the morning, and that you always start your day seeing me. I didn't want to mess things up for you."
Her innocent eyes sparkled with sincerity, and I could barely restrain myself from closing the distance between us entirely. "You know what you're getting yourself into, right?" I asked, my voice steady but my heart racing.
She nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks. I pulled her chin a little closer, bringing our faces mere inches apart. "Words, Little Swan," I murmured, my breath mingling with hers.
As she said ,"yes , Yash ", I took a deep breath, savoring the warmth of her embrace. My heart raced, and every fiber of my being was attuned to her presence. I had been holding back, but I couldn't resist any longer. Gently, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, the soft contact sending a shiver of warmth through me. I looked into her eyes, searching for answers, my voice trembling slightly with anticipation.
