UNWILLINGLY HIS

The lines we draw

*Samaira's pov*

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I stir slowly, my eyes heavy with the remnants of exhaustion. As I sit up, memories of the night come flooding back. The darkness. The fear. And then... him.

I glance toward the couch where Advait is sprawled, his arm draped over his eyes as if shielding himself from the world. The sight makes my chest tighten in ways I refuse to name. He stayed with me. Despite everything, despite who he is, he stayed.

The thought doesn't sit well with me. It's too raw, too vulnerable. I'm not the type to need someone-especially not him.

Pulling the blanket tighter around myself, I quietly step off the bed. My feet sink into the soft rug as I make my way to the adjoining bathroom. A splash of cold water on my face helps, but it doesn't erase the lingering feeling of his arms around me, the way his voice sounded in the dark. I stare at my reflection, trying to summon the sharpness I've always used to shield myself.

"You're not the lead in some over-the-top drama," I mutter to my reflection, shaking my head. "Get it together, Samaira."

When I step back into the room, Advait is awake. He's sitting up on the couch, his hair slightly disheveled, his shirt wrinkled. He looks at me, and for a fleeting moment, there's something in his eyes-concern? Relief? I don't know. I don't want to know.

"You're awake," he says, his voice still rough with sleep.

I nod, crossing my arms over my chest, my defenses snapping back into place. "And you're still here," I reply, keeping my tone neutral.

His brow furrows, and he stands, closing the distance between us in a few long strides. "Samaira, are you okay? Last night..."

I hold up a hand to stop him. "I remember," I say, my voice steady but distant. "And... thank you. For staying. For-" I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. "For everything."

His lips twitch into the faintest of smiles, and I see the smugness creeping into his expression. I know that look all too well.

"Don't flatter yourself," I add quickly, narrowing my eyes at him. "This doesn't mean I've forgotten who you are or what you've done. For one night, maybe I needed you. But that doesn't erase the past."

The smile fades, replaced by something heavier. He steps back, giving me space, and for a moment, I see the man behind the mask. The man who broke me.

"I'm not asking you to forget," he says quietly, his voice unusually soft. "I just-" He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if deciding against finishing the thought.

I don't let him. "Good," I say, crossing my arms again. "Because I can't. And I won't."

He nods, his jaw tightening, and for a moment, the room is filled with silence.

But as I look at him, standing there in the soft morning light, something shifts. I hate that I feel it, hate that I'm even entertaining the idea of letting him in. And yet, a part of me-the part that remembers the way he held me, the way he didn't leave-can't deny the pull.

I push the thought aside, burying it beneath layers of hurt and defiance.

"I may have leaned on you last night," I say, breaking the silence. "But don't think for a second that this changes anything. You're still..." I trail off, my words failing me.

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish.

I huff, throwing my hands in the air. "You're still you, okay? And that's not exactly a compliment."