𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ( 𝐘𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐯𝐢 𝐉𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥 )

20

Jemimah groggily blinked her eyes open, her head pounding from the night before. The unfamiliar room momentarily disoriented her until she remembered—Yashasvi's place. Her gaze shifted across the room, finding the blankets neatly draped over her, a faint memory of Yashasvi gently laying her down coming to mind. She sat up slowly, rubbing her temples as the room spun slightly, her thoughts immediately clouding with the weight of everything that had happened.

Arjun.

Her chest tightened. The way he'd brushed the hair from her face last night, how concerned he'd been—it stung. Jemimah hated that she couldn't read the signs properly, he had never shown any interest which can be counted as romantic yet she still kept pinning behind him. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to spiral, but the ache in her chest was relentless.

She pushed herself out of bed, feeling the stiffness in her body as she shuffled toward the door. Her bare feet padded against the floor as she stepped into the living room, finding Yashasvi lounging on the couch with an old match playing on tv, though it was paused. He had one arm casually slung over the back, his focus on his phone in his other hand, but the second he heard her approach, he looked up.

"You're awake," he noted, his tone neutral but a flicker of relief crossed his face. "It's almost 3."

"Its 3 in the afternoon ?" Jemimah asked, surprised. She hadn't realized how late it had gotten. Her head pounded again, and she groaned, pressing her hand against her forehead.

Yashasvi pushed himself off the couch and walked over to her, holding out a small packet. "Here," he said, offering her a hangover medicine. "Take this. You look like you need it."

Jemimah gratefully took it, swallowing it with the glass of water he handed her. She sniffed herself and grimaced at the odour she smelled on herself . "Ugh, I smell awful."

Yashasvi didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, you kind of do," he replied, his expression genuine but not unkind. "I put some of my clothes in the guest bedroom for you. You can freshen up and change there. The bathroom's attached. Its the room at the end of the hallway."

"Thanks," Jemimah muttered, embarrassed but appreciating the effort he'd gone through. She was too tired to any other response, so she just nodded and made her way to the guest room as Yashasvi indicated.

She moved slowly, her mind still clouded as she stepped into the bathroom. The hot water felt like heaven against her skin, washing away the remnants of the night before, but no amount of scrubbing could rid her of the heaviness in her chest. The familiar ache had settled deep inside her, lingering in a way that she couldn't quite shake.

After getting dressed in the clothes Yashasvi had left for her—a simple black hoodie and some grey sweatpants that were far too big for her—Jemimah padded back into the living room, only to find Yashasvi in the kitchen. He had his back turned to her, his sleeves rolled up as he busied himself over the stove, the smell of something savory filling the air.

She leaned against the doorway, watching him quietly for a moment. There was something oddly comforting about seeing him like this—domestic, almost. Yashasvi wasn't the kind of guy who ever showed his emotions, at least not in the way she was used to. He was infuriatingly composed, knowing what to do, always in control, and it frustrated her to no end. But in moments like this, when he thought no one was watching, there was a quiet softness to him.

He turned slightly, noticing her presence. "Feeling better?" he asked, not looking directly at her, as though he already knew the answer. There was a slight redness on his face as he glanced at his clothes on her.

Jemimah shrugged, attempting to play it cool. "I guess. What're you making?"

"Just some egg bhurji," he replied simply. "You need something in your stomach after last night."