50 | ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ᴡɪꜰᴇ!!?

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The door creaked open, and Advait stepped inside, his presence commanding and silent, the air in the room shifting with his arrival

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

The door creaked open, and Advait stepped inside, his presence commanding and silent, the air in the room shifting with his arrival. His sharp gaze scanned the surroundings, but it didn’t take long for his eyes to find her. 

Diya. 

She was sitting on their bed, her posture relaxed yet carrying an invisible weight. For a moment—a mere flicker of time—Advait froze. His breath hitched as his eyes drank her in, unbidden and insatiable. 

Her hair was tied in a loose, messy bun, stray strands framing her face in a way that made his fingers itch to brush them back. She was wearing a simple, light-colored kurti adorned with intricate handmade designs. It wasn’t fancy or extravagant, but she didn’t need that. She had this maddening ability to make anything look beautiful, and it drove him to the edge of his sanity. 

How could someone so unassuming hold so much power over him? 

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her like a predator in wait. His dark, stormy eyes refused to leave her form, devouring every detail as if this was the only thing keeping him alive. 

But she didn’t notice him—not yet. 

She didn’t turn to meet his gaze like she always did. She didn’t shiver under the weight of his stare, her breaths quickening as though his very presence was enough to leave her breathless. 

This time, she remained still. 

For a man like Advait, who thrived on her reactions, who craved the smallest signs that she felt the same magnetic pull toward him, this was unfamiliar. It unsettled him. 

And yet, he remained rooted in place, unwilling—unable—to look away. 

Because he knew. 

He knew what he did to her. 

How her body reacted to his closeness—the way her breath hitched, her skin warmed, and her pupils dilated when his rough, calloused fingers brushed against her soft, delicate ones. He knew how she bit her lip when she was nervous or when he got too close, the way she licked them absentmindedly, completely oblivious to the havoc it wreaked on his self-control. 

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐜𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲 : 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 Where stories live. Discover now