# 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
Aayansh Agniwanshi a king of jaipur and CEO of Agniwanshi CO. Lit. A mafia king with ruthless, grumpy, cold.
'Love is a trap. When it appears, we see only its light, not its shadows.' A...
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Aayansh’s breathing was still uneven when he pulled away slightly, his intense brown eyes locking onto her hazel ones — searching, demanding, aching for something he couldn't name.
He framed her face between his palms roughly, his thumbs brushing her cheeks, the pressure almost bruising.
"Ishanvi..." his voice was gravel, low and ragged, "Holi ke din..."
[On the day of Holi...]
He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard — a rare moment of uncertainty flashing in his stormy gaze.
"...kuch... kuch hua tha hum dono ke beech mein?"
[Did... did something happen between us?]
His words fell between them like a live wire, crackling in the air.
Ishanvi blinked up at him, heart hammering against her ribs. Of course she remembered.
How could she forget?
The terrace bathed in evening— the riot of colors exploding everywhere — his arms, strong and trembling, holding her against him — the way their bodies moved on instinct, desperate and unthinking — the feel of his heartbeat slamming against hers, the taste of Holi powder on his lips when he whispered promises near her lips he probably didn't even know he made.
And now — standing in front of her, wet from rain, breathing heavy — he didn't remember.
He didn't know the fire they had set that day. The fire that had been burning in her quietly ever since.
Ishanvi’s lips parted slightly, but she caught herself..
Instead of answering, she tilted her head at him, playing it slow, her voice deliberately innocent
"Kyun pooch rahe ho, Aayansh?"
[Why are you asking, Aayansh?]
A soft tease laced her tone, but underneath it —there was a quake.
A tiny tremble.
Because if he didn’t remember... should she remind him?
Or should she keep their secret safe, locked away where it couldn't hurt either of them?
Aayansh’s fingers tightened fractionally on her cheeks, his eyes boring into hers, almost like he could see the war inside her.
But he stayed silent.
Waiting.
Needing.
And for the first time in her life, Ishanvi realized —.maybe he needed answers even more than she did.
The rain inside kept pouring, fake droplets sliding down the glass windows — the room is still dim, painted in silver and gold shadows.
The only sound between them was their breathing, heavy and ragged.
