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"What are you doing here?" he asks me, his eyes raking over my drenched body and widening. Instantly, he opens the door further, allowing me to slip inside and grab a towel from somewhere, handing it to me.
My sobs may have taken a backseat f...
AN: kinda in mood for giving you guys a double update so get me to 150 votes and 50+ comments by tomorrow and i’ll post the chapter😚
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The last light of the café flickers out as I turn the key and step back, locking the glass door with trembling fingers. The street is quiet, golden with the dimmed glow of the old street lamps. And behind me—leaning casually against the hood of his car, arms folded, jaw set—is Aayansh.
He doesn’t say anything. He just watches me. Like I’m a language only he knows how to read.
My breath hitches, the key cold in my fist. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. I don’t know why my legs are suddenly heavy, why I can feel the weight of his gaze on my skin like silk dipped in fire. All I know is that I shouldn’t be this affected.
And yet, I am.
His sleeves are rolled up, veins in his forearms stark under the amber light. There’s flour on the corner of his sleeve—from when he helped me bake earlier—and my heart stutters at the memory. How he stood behind me, tied my hair up when it kept falling in my eyes. How he fed me pav bhaji when I refused to eat, wiping the smudge from my lip with the pad of his thumb like it meant everything.
God.
I shouldn’t be letting him do this. I shouldn’t be letting myself feel this way.
“I’m not staying with you,” I say, even as I walk toward him. My voice lacks conviction. I know he hears it.
He tilts his head, eyes raking down my form, that sinful mouth curving slightly. “Sure, jaan.”
I hate how my stomach flutters at the word. I hate how my steps don’t stop.
“I never agreed to stay with you. You just assumed.”
“Humour me if you will, then,” he murmurs, opening the passenger door for me. “But tonight, you’re coming home with me.”
I don’t move.
His hand finds the small of my back, warm and possessive. Fingers splayed like he’s claiming territory. Like I belong there.
“Just to sleep,” he murmurs, but his voice is too rough for that to be all. “Just to breathe. Just to be in a space that’s ours. Let me have that.”
I glance up at him — this man who once broke my heart, who now looks at me like I’m every prayer he’s ever whispered.
“You made some... promises,” I say, my voice barely steady. “Filthy ones, if I remember right.”
A shadow of a smirk curls at his mouth. “I remember every one of them, jaan.” His thumb presses against the dip of my spine, slow, deliberate. “And I meant them. Every word. Every filthy, desperate thing I told you I’d do.”
My breath stumbles.
“But not tonight,” he adds, quieter now. “Not unless you ask for it. Not unless you want it.”
