"Put me down you scoundrel "she is Continuesly hitting him on his back
The rain pours heavily, creating a curtain of water that blurs the city lights in the background. The sound of raindrops hitting the pavement is almost deafening, and the air is thick with tension.
Finally Yokshit put her down ,both are drenched but determined, stands beside his car, his face a mask of frustration. He grabs Adwita's wrist firmly, his grip strong but not painful. "Get in the car, Adwita," he says, his voice low and commanding, barely audible over the rain.
Adwita, equally soaked, pulls back, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Yokshit," she snaps, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and something she can't quite name.
Yokshit's jaw tightens, his patience wearing thin. He opens the car door with a swift motion, the interior lights casting a dim glow on their tense faces. "You're getting in whether you like it or not," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With a final glare, Adwita reluctantly allows herself to be guided into the passenger seat, her anger simmering just below the surface. Yokshit slams the door shut, the sound echoing in the empty street.
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He moves quickly around the car and gets in, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he tries to calm the storm inside him. The rain continues to pour, but inside the car, a different kind of storm is brewing-one filled with unresolved feelings, unspoken words, and a tension that refuses to break.
They sit in silence for a moment, both too angry to speak, the sound of the rain pounding on the roof the only noise between them. The air is thick with the weight of everything left unsaid, as they both stare straight ahead, the distance between them feeling both too close and too far.
As Yokshit drives through the rain-soaked streets, the tension inside the car is palpable. The windshield wipers move rhythmically, but neither of them seems to notice. The silence between them is thick, filled with unsaid words and unacknowledged emotions.
Adwita stares out of the window, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Her anger has simmered down, replaced by a stubborn pride that mirrors Yokshit's own. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, catching the hard set of his jaw, the way his hands grip the steering wheel a little too tightly.
"You always think you're right," she mutters, more to herself than to him.
Yokshit's eyes flicker toward her, but he says nothing, his gaze returning to the road. The way the rain blurs the world outside mirrors the confusion in his mind. He knows she's upset, and truth be told, so is he-but pride keeps him from softening.
"I'm not always right," he finally replies, his voice low, "but this time, I am.
Adwita turns to face him, her anger flaring up again. You're impossible, Yokshit. You can't just-
