𝐉𝐚𝐚𝐧 : 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

32○Them○

•Mujhse Shaadi Karogi, Meri Jaan?•
▪︎Author's Pov▪︎

Paris, the city of love, wrapped around them like a warm embrace. The soft afternoon breeze carried the scent of roses and freshly baked croissants as Ashvik and Amaira walked side by side along the bridge, his arm casually draped around her waist while her fingers curled around his.

"Are you finally going to tell me what this sudden date is all about? And why Paris, of all places?" Amaira asked, tilting her head up at him with narrowed eyes.

Ashvik let out an exaggerated sigh. "Can't a man take his woman on a spontaneous romantic getaway without being interrogated?"

Amaira giggled, reaching up to pinch his cheek. "Alright, Mr. Lover, I'll stop questioning. I'm all yours—every second of my time belongs to you."

Ashvik smirked, straightening his collar dramatically. "At least pretend to think about my reputation, baby."

Amaira scoffed. "Your reputation? Please." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I'm the one with multiple titles—The Romano Princess, The Mafia Princess, The Idol Princess, Lisa, Aira... and now, Ashvik's Jaan. You, on the other hand, have only one title—Mine."

Ashvik chuckled as she strutted ahead like she owned the world. His gaze shamelessly trailed over her curves, his smirk deepening as he followed behind.

Amaira suddenly gasped, her eyes lighting up. "Oh my God! I didn't even notice—this is the Love Lock Bridge!" She practically bounced on her heels, watching couples attach their locks to the railing, securing their love in metal and memory.

Ashvik smiled at her excitement. "Let's make it official then, baby."

Amaira turned to him, beaming. He adored that look on her face—the pure joy, the spark in her eyes.

"Wait here, I'll get us a lock." Ashvik placed a quick kiss on her forehead before walking toward a vendor selling locks.

Amaira stayed behind, admiring the thousands of love locks, her fingers brushing over a few names engraved on them. This was something she had always wanted—to share this moment with the love of her life. She had seen her sisters-in-law force her cold-hearted brothers to do it, and she had always imagined what it would feel like.

And now, it was real.

She turned to find Ashvik, a soft smile on her lips—only for her expression to drop instantly.

A group of teenage girls stood near the vendor, stealing glances at her man, giggling and whispering amongst themselves.

Amaira's eyes darkened.

There Ashvik stood, completely unaware, focused on choosing between a heart-shaped lock and a square one. Dressed in an all-black ensemble—a tailored coat, a crisp shirt, matching trousers, and polished shoes—he looked like he had stepped straight out of a fashion editorial. His sharp jawline, tousled hair, and intense expression only made him more irresistible.

The girls were eating it up.

And he? Completely oblivious.

A slow smirk formed on Amaira's lips.

Fine. If those girls wanted a show, she'd give them one.

Without hesitation, she marched toward Ashvik, grabbed his collar, and pulled him into a deep, possessive kiss.

Ashvik stiffened for half a second before instinct took over, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. His grip was firm, his hands pressing into her waist as she melted against him.