"Lost in his love, she made him her world, where everything else faded into insignificance"
∞
Kriti Singhania, reluctantly returns to her homeland to fulfill her father's wish of becoming the CEO of his company. However, her life takes an unexpected...
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Aayansh's POV~
I hesitated at first, but the words found their way out, trembling on my lips like the first light of dawn. "I already fell for you, Kriti”
A gentle blush crept across her cheeks, painting her skin in shades of pink. She looked down, as I felt, a shy smile breaking through her surprise. My heart raced as I took in the sight of her.
I felt exposed, my feelings laid bare, yet somehow, it felt right. Kriti finally met my gaze, her expression shifting from shock to something deeper, something I dared to hope was mutual.
I watched her, the light in her eyes dancing like fireflies, and for a moment, I let myself believe everything would be okay. But then she spoke.
“Too late, Aayansh.”
The words struck me like a physical blow. I felt them gnaw at my insides, a hollow ache forming as confusion twisted into frustration. I had took too long, didn’t I?
“What?” I echoed, searching her face for a hint of the warmth that had always been there. But her expression remained resolute.
The finality in her tone struck me hard “You know what? Fuck you”
I was taken aback by her words, never expecting such a bold reaction. I had imagined her reaction playing out differently– thought she would come running, wrap her arms around me, and all would be forgiven. But instead, she walked away, her back turned to me like a door closing on everything.
Fuck.
I sat there, frozen, as Kriti stormed off to her room, her anger clear in every step. I had imagined this moment differently, envisioned her smiling, But instead, she was furious. I needed to make it right, to fix the mess I’d caused.
Without wasting another second, I stood and made my way to her door. My knuckles rapped softly against the wood, the sound echoing louder in my chest than in the hallway. “Kriti, open the door,” I called, trying to keep my voice steady, but inside, I was a storm of nerves.
Her response was immediate and sharp. “Get out, Aayansh!” she shouted, her voice muffled but unmistakably playful.
That was Kriti, always finding a way to blend anger with humor.
“Come on, Kriti, open the door” I insisted.
Minutes passed, and each one felt like an eternity. I heard the latch click, and slowly, the door opened. There she stood, her face flushed with frustration, but to my surprise, she wasn’t glaring at me. Instead, she was standing there with a bar of chocolate, her fingers messily coated in it.
