𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬.
Love is hope for the hopeless and sin for the saint. Love makes you do things you never intended to do, but it's distinct when you hold hands and promise to behold each oth...
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He led me deeper into the quiet rows of books, and for a moment, I couldn't tell where he was going.
"Where are we going exactly, Rutvik?" I asked, my voice cutting through the silence.
He stopped suddenly, reaching up to pull a book from one of the higher shelves. Turning to me, his dark eyes locked onto mine as he handed me the book.
"Dil ki baat boli nahi, likhi jaati hai," he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight I couldn't quite place.
{ "The feelings of the heart are not spoken but written." }
I took the book from him, my fingers brushing against his briefly. Confusion flickered across my face, and before I could ask what he meant, he spoke again.
"You told me to say a paragraph about you here." He paused, his gaze searching mine. "But I couldn't make a paragraph. I'm sorry. So, I wrote this-a book. Every page, every paragraph, it's about you."
For a moment, I forgot to breathe. The book felt heavier now, as if it carried the weight of his emotions. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came. His gaze lingered on me for a second longer before he turned away, leaving me standing there with his heart written in ink and bound in my hand.
One thing is clear, we both have already crossed the line of just a law student and a prisoner.
"Wait," I said suddenly, clutching the book tightly. "I sent you the letter yesterday... so did you write all this in one night?"
He didn't answer, just smiled-a sly, knowing smile that made my heart stutter. "That's not important, my Ella," he said softly, his voice a mix of playfulness and something deeper. "I'm here for your first crime."
"Crime? Me? Never," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
He stepped closer. "Tell me, how many rules did you break to meet me? Tell me you didn't put the entire jail in lockdown."
Before I could respond, he pushed me gently against the shelf as a support. The closeness made my heart race, and I was sure he could hear it. As much as I hated how flustered I felt, I couldn't help the blush creeping up my face.
"My crush helped me," I said, trying to sound confident. I don't know why I said it but I did.
He stopped for a moment, his dark brown eyes narrowing. "Helped you? Who?"
"My crush," I snapped, raising my chin defiantly. "The one I like."
But it was a lie. I had no crush-I just couldn't stand the thought of him liking someone else. His silence stretched between us like a taut string, and just when I thought he'd let it go, his lips curved into a smile that sent shivers down my spine.
"I wish his death," he said so casually that it stunned me.
"Huh? What? Hey!" I exclaimed, trying to process what he'd just said.
