☆Clash of Souls: Reunited Book one of Twisted Souls series ☆( part-1)
This book is divided into two parts
And this one is part -1
𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈 𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐓 × 𝐕𝐘𝐀𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐇𝐑𝐀
What if childhood friends, now bitter rivals, are forced into an arranged...
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Driti:
As the music starts, the room's atmosphere shifts with the dimming lights casting a golden glow. The earlier tension seems to lift as everyone prepares for the celebration.
The sangeet begins, and Zora, full of energy, pulls Aryaan onto the dance floor. Despite his mock reluctance, he soon finds himself swaying with the beat. Couples join in, and the dance floor comes alive with laughter and movement.
I take a moment to enjoy the scene—the joy, the noise, the warmth. Despite everything, these moments of happiness remind me why it’s worth holding on.
I notice Vyaan standing at the back, observing with a rare, warm smile that contrasts with his usual aloofness.
Zora’s voice breaks my thoughts. “Driti! Stop standing there and come dance!”
I laugh, but she’s insistent.
The song “Janam Janam” starts, its lyrics about eternal togetherness feeling bittersweet in the moment. I glance at Vyaan again as we prepare to take the stage.
"Ready to turn this dance into a disaster?" I ask.
Vyaan smirks. “Only if you are. Public humiliation is good for team-building, after all.”
“Perfect, then we’re on the same page,” I reply, trying to stay steady as we move to the stage.
As we start dancing, I try to keep up with Vyaan’s precise movements. “Is this your boardroom dance style?” I tease.
“Only if I want to scare off potential clients,” he retorts, focused on not stepping on my toes.
Then, unexpectedly, Vyaan’s hand shifts from mine to my waist. The warmth of his touch and our close proximity stir a mix of feelings I wasn’t prepared for. His touch seems to connect us in a way that’s both intimate and unexpected.
I raise an eyebrow. “Trying to keep me from falling, or is this a new strategy?”
His hand on my lower back pulls me closer, and for a moment, the world fades away. The only thing that matters is the warmth and closeness between us.
“Just making sure we don’t make a spectacle,” he says, deadpan.
In that moment, I feel a familiar, unsettling sensation, as if Vyaan’s touch has unlocked past memories of when we were friends. The warmth of his hand stirs emotions I had tried to forget.
Vyaan’s usual cold demeanor softens, revealing a hint of regret and longing in his eyes. The brief connection on stage shows a part of him that’s been hidden under layers of time and hurt.
“Ah, the chivalry is overwhelming,” I say, trying not to laugh.
Vyaan gives me a rare, amused look. “Well, that was one way to make an impression.”
