𝟑𝟗. 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞

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AUTHOR's PoV
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Steam curled against the bathroom mirror as Evara stepped out of the shower, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. The towel wrapped around her was barely holding onto her frame, and Atharv, still drying himself with his own towel, leaned against the sink, watching her.

She tiptoed across the cold tiles, her bare feet barely making a sound, and settled in front of her small vanity mirror.

Without a word, she started dabbing her face with toner, her movements slow and methodical, as if she had done this a million times before.

Atharv smirked, shaking his head. "You just survived a near-death situation, and here you are, doing skincare like it's a normal Tuesday morning."

Evara shot him a look through the mirror, her lips twitching. "Self-care is non-negotiable."

Atharv chuckled, stepping forward. "You're something else, you know that?"

She hummed in response, rubbing moisturizer into her skin. Atharv simply watched. Admired. The way the curve of her shoulders tensed slightly every time she moved. The way the bathroom light cast a golden glow on her face, making her look like she belonged in some old, forgotten painting.

And maybe she did. Maybe she belonged to another world entirely—one where he wasn't about to slip out of her house like a fugitive.

Evara finished her routine, then turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "You have to go."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a complaint. Just a fact.

Atharv exhaled. "Yeah."

For a second, neither of them moved. The air between them felt thick—like a moment stretching itself too thin, about to snap.

Evara was the first to move. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his wrist, her touch featherlight, yet it sent something sharp through his chest. He caught her hand, pressed it to his lips, and let his eyes close for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

He didn't want to go.

But he had to.

"We need a plan," she murmured, stepping closer, her towel slipping slightly down her shoulder.

Atharv groaned. "You're not making this easier, princess."

Her lips curled. "Not my job."

They sat on the edge of her bed, heads tilted toward each other, plotting his escape like two criminals about to pull off the heist of the century.

In between hushed whispers and stolen glances, Atharv kissed her. A soft, slow kiss that didn't belong to the urgency of the moment. His fingers tangled in her hair, her arms circled around his neck, and for a while, they forgot.

Forgot the ticking clock.

Forgot the fact that her parents were downstairs.

Forgot the real world outside this room.

But reality came knocking soon enough.

Evara, still breathless from their kiss, pulled away and grinned. "I've got it."

Atharv raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

She tapped his nose playfully. "I'll take my dad to the backyard garden. He won't say no—he loves plants more than he loves me."

Atharv smirked. "Hard to believe."

"It's true." She rolled her eyes. "And I'll drag Mom along for good measure. By the time they're outside, you slip through the front door and disappear."

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