𝐈𝐬𝐡𝐪 𝐊𝐚 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐫

Something in the Rain🌩🫀

In my city, it's been pouring every day lately, and I can't think of anything else to write about in the story

It's raining. Of course it's raining. Because the universe clearly has a flair for dramatic timing, and apparently, so does Vansh.

He's standing out there on the balcony, staring into the downpour like he's auditioning for some dark and moody romance movie. Hair wet, black shirt soaked, and, of course, not an ounce of concern about catching pneumonia. It's like he wants to be a walking cliché. What is it with this guy and brooding in the rain?

"Ridhima." His voice is low, the kind of low that's probably meant to make my knees weak. And, yeah, fine-there's a tiny part of me that feels it, but the bigger part of me just wants to laugh at how perfectly on-brand this is for him.

I fold my arms and lean against the doorway, watching him. "Let me guess," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "You're about to tell me it's too dangerous for me to be here."

He turns, and there it is-that intense look. The one that makes it seem like the weight of the world is pressing down on his very perfect, very broad shoulders. "It's not safe for you." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I can't help it. I snort. Yes, snort. Because at this point, what else am I supposed to do? This man-this man-still thinks I'm the delicate flower he needs to protect. Never mind the fact that I've been dodging bullets, navigating his ridiculous web of enemies, and somehow still managing to stay alive.

I step forward, out from the doorway, so now I'm standing right there with him in the rain. "So, what's the plan, huh?" I ask, looking him dead in the eye. "You going to wrap me up in bubble wrap and hide me in the basement?"

His jaw tightens. Ah, there it is. The classic Vansh jaw clench. The minute I hit a nerve, that stoic mask slips for just a second-but he'll never admit it. His whole thing is control, always being the one to have the final say.

He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. The rain is still coming down hard, but somehow, standing here with him, it feels like we're in this little bubble where time's slowed down.

The air between us? Absolutely buzzing. Like a storm of its own. It's frustrating, sure, but it's also... something else. Something I don't really want to name right now.

"You're not leaving," he says. It's not a question. It's a statement, and it hangs in the air between us like it's the only thing that matters.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Do you really want to go there?" I ask, my tone edging into dangerous territory. "You know damn well I'm not leaving. I'm not going to sit at home like some damsel in distress while you play hero."

He tilts his head slightly, watching me in that way that always makes me feel like he's peeling back layers, like he sees more than I'm comfortable with. His hand comes up slowly, brushing a strand of wet hair off my face. It's such a simple, stupidly intimate gesture, but it hits like a punch.

"I don't need you to protect me, Vansh," I say, my voice quieter now, but firm. "I can handle myself."

His hand pauses, and for a moment, I think I see something flicker in his eyes-something softer, something vulnerable. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar mask of control. He drops his hand, stepping back just enough that the tension breaks, and suddenly, I can breathe again.

"Fine," he says, his voice low and steady. "Stay. But don't say I didn't warn you when things go south."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Oh, trust me," I say, crossing my arms again. "If things go south, I'll be sure to throw a parade in your honor. Maybe we can get a banner: Vansh was right. Again."

For a second, just a split second, I swear he's fighting back a smile. But instead of giving me the satisfaction, he just turns back toward the rain, his expression unreadable.

Thunder crashes overhead, and I jump-just a little. Of course, Vansh notices. And of course, he doesn't miss the opportunity to needle me about it.

"Scared?"

I shoot him a look, the kind that could probably cut glass. "Of thunder? No. Of you pulling some macho stunt and getting yourself killed? Maybe."

He smirks, and it's that maddening, maddening half-smile that makes me want to punch him and kiss him in the same breath. He turns back to the rain, his voice barely above a whisper. "We'll see."

And just like that, we're back where we started. Him, in control. Me, pretending I'm not affected. The rain falling like some kind of cosmic joke, and the two of us, caught in the middle of it.

Notes:

Hi friends! It's been a while since my last post, but I'm back. A few of you have asked for part 2 of Chasing the Dark. I'd love to hear your suggestions for it. Did u write this all