𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 : Where Opposite Attracts

34 (𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞)

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I've used a lot of Hindi dialogues in this chapter—because come on, their cute banter just hits differently in Hinglish! 😌 But don't worry if you're not familiar with the language—English translations are right there for you.

I promise you'll love reading this one... because I absolutely loved writing it.
(And no, don't ask if I giggled, blushed, or maybe even cried—because the answer is yes to all three. Omo, they're so freaking adorable, I can't!!) 😭💕

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ARYAN'S POV

"Aryan?" Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, as her fingers curled gently around my arm.

I turned toward her, the corner of my lips curving into a smile seeing her.

"Haan kahiye, madam," I replied, my tone laced mischievously as I lifted one eyebrow, pretending to be clueless.

(Yes, ma'am?)

She didn't smile. Instead, she stood there with arms folded and eyes narrowed—dangerously.

"Tumne phir se wahi kiya na?" she said, her voice firm, but not loud. That was worse.
"Mana kiya tha Aryan, bed pe gila towel mat rakha karo. Kab sudhroge tum?"

(You did it again, didn't you?)
(I told you not to leave a wet towel on the bed, Aryan. When will you ever learn?)

Her gaze could've sliced through stone, and for a moment, I actually felt... afraid.
Not because she was angry, but because she looked too breathtaking when she was mad.

There she was—messy hair tied in a lazy bun, wearing my oversized T-shirt, her eyes throwing daggers while somehow still holding the softness of a thousand unspoken emotions.

And I?
I was too busy admiring the way her nose crinkled slightly when she was annoyed.

"Arre baba, galti ho gayi," I murmured, holding up my hands in fake surrender.
"Par tum gussa mat hua karo. Itna khatarnaak lagti ho ki mujhe khud pe darr lagne lagta hai."

(Okay, okay, it was a mistake,)
(But don't be mad. You look so dangerous when you're angry, I start fearing for my own life.)

She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath—probably pagal ho tum—but the faint blush creeping up her cheeks gave her away.

(You're mad)

God, this woman.
Beautiful in chaos. Fierce in love. And somehow, still mine.

"Dangerous ho tum," I added with a grin, inching closer, "Lekin ekdam khoobsurat tareeke se."

(You're dangerous,)
(But in the most beautiful way.)

Her glare faltered for a second—only a second—but it was enough. She looked away, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free.

"Bas baatein banana aata hai kya?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, one eyebrow arched, that dangerous smile playing on her lips—the kind that could kill and heal at the same time.

(Is that all you ever do—talk sweetly?)

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I took a step closer, closing the gap between us until her breath brushed against mine.