The keeper of time

Chapter 9: Shadows of Suspicion, Sparks of Teasing

The night settled over the camp like a thick blanket, stars twinkling faintly overhead. The fire crackled in the center, casting flickering shadows over the group. Aryan sat a few feet away, quietly sharpening his knife—always focused, always prepared. Anaya found herself glancing at him more than she'd like, her thoughts swirling with questions she couldn't answer.

And then, as if he could feel her gaze on him, Aryan looked up, smirking when their eyes met. His smirk always had that maddening effect on her. It wasn't just a smirk—it was the look of a man who knew he was getting under your skin and enjoyed every second of it.

"Like what you see?" Aryan asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Anaya rolled her eyes. "Please. The fire's just making your already massive ego shine brighter."

Aryan chuckled, the low rumble of it sending a small shiver down her spine. He leaned back, watching her closely, as if studying her reactions. "Admit it, you've been staring at me all night."

"You wish," she shot back, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to the fire. But she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes still on her, like he was waiting for her to say something more.

"What are you thinking?" Aryan's voice softened, losing some of its teasing edge.

"About how I can make you disappear into the woods without anyone noticing," Anaya replied, her tone just sharp enough to make him laugh again.

"I'd like to see you try."

Anaya glanced at him, unable to suppress a grin. This was how it always was with Aryan—an endless game of banter, each of them trying to one-up the other. And as frustrating as it could be, it was also... fun. More fun than she'd admit out loud.

The night grew quieter, the conversation between the group slowing to a lull as fatigue began to set in. Aryan, however, seemed in no mood to stop his teasing.

"You've been awfully quiet today," he remarked, his voice low as he moved closer to her spot by the fire. "Not plotting anything dangerous, are you?"

Anaya raised an eyebrow. "Why? Afraid I might actually succeed in getting rid of you?"

Aryan leaned in, his face inches from hers now. His expression was serious, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. "If you wanted me gone, you'd have to try a little harder than that."

Anaya's heart did an annoying little flip at his proximity, but she masked it with sarcasm. "Oh, believe me, I have ideas. Very detailed ideas."

He grinned, obviously enjoying her retort. His gaze dropped to her lips for a brief second before he pulled back, standing up and stretching as if nothing had happened. "You're cute when you're pretending to be dangerous, Anaya."

"Cute?" she scoffed. "I am not cute."

Aryan tilted his head slightly, feigning deep thought. "No? How about... charming? Or maybe you're just irresistible when you're angry. I can't decide."

Anaya threw a pebble at him, but Aryan dodged it easily, still smirking.

"You're impossible," she muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"You love it," Aryan said over his shoulder as he walked away to check on something in the distance.

She didn't answer. Because as much as she hated to admit it, part of her did love it. His teasing, their back-and-forth—it was all becoming too... natural.

Later that night, Aryan was sitting on a fallen log near the outskirts of the camp, watching the moonlight filter through the trees. Anaya hesitated for a moment before walking over to him, sitting beside him without a word.