The resort in Rishikesh was beautiful, but the peace lasted exactly three seconds before the families descended. The moms were already huddled in the lobby, analyzing the weight of the bride's jewelry, while the dads had found a corner to settle the BJP vs. Congress debate once and for all.

Kavita marched the teenagers down a hallway, looking like a drill sergeant. She pointed to two rooms directly across from each other.

"Listen to me carefully," she said, hands on her hips. "Kuch bhi ho thoda adjust karlena bacchon ye humara Ghar nahi haina! I don't want any complaints about the AC, the pillows, or the Wi-Fi. Just get ready for the Haldi, okay?"

With that, she disappeared into the vortex of aunties.

The boys—Rivaan, Kabir, and Kriday—scrambled into their room, while Vanya, Meher, and Tanvi claimed the one opposite.

Kabir stood in the middle of the room, tossing a fresh towel over his shoulder like a cape. He looked at the only bathroom in the suite and then at his watch.

"Alright, boys! Make way for the king," Kabir announced with a grin. "Main ja raha hoon shower lene. If I'm not out in twenty minutes, it's because I've fallen in love with my own reflection in the steam. Don't come looking for me."

Rivaan, who was busy folding his clothes with surgical precision, looked up and scoffed. "Shut up, Kabir. Kriday is right here. What will he think? At least show some maturity for once."

Kabir didn't even flinch. He leaned against the bathroom door, looking at Kriday who was sitting on the bed, and then back at Rivaan. "Oh, please! As if he won't be exactly like this when he's at our age. He's a Malhotra, Rivaan. The narcissist gene is literally in his blood!"

Rivaan groaned, rubbing his temples. "He's a kid, Kabir. Stop corrupting him."

Suddenly, Kriday looked up from his comic book, his expression deadpan and surprisingly unimpressed. "Oh, shut up Kabir bhaiya and Rivaan bhaiya! I am 13 years old. Main koi chhota baccha nahi hoon, I know everything."

The room went dead silent for a second. Kabir blinked. Rivaan blinked.

"Everything?" Kabir asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Everything," Kriday repeated, hopping off the bed. "I know about the bro-code, I know about your secret gym selfies, and I definitely know why Rivaan bhaiya hasn't stopped checking his hair since we landed in Rishikesh. So, Kabir bhaiya, please go and wash your face"

Kabir let out a bark of laughter, pointing at Kriday. "See? I told you! Corrupted already. I love this kid!" With a wink, Kabir disappeared into the bathroom, singing a loud, off-key version of a wedding song that echoed through the vents.

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door swung open. A cloud of steam billowed out, and Kabir emerged, looking suspiciously groomed and smelling like a citrus factory.

"Your turn, Topper," Kabir said, pointing toward the door. "Go. Purify yourself before the Haldi"

Rivaan shot him a glare, grabbed his fresh white kurta and a towel, and marched into the bathroom. He needed the cold water to settle his nerves.

He stepped under the showerhead and turned the knob.

Squeak.

Nothing.

He turned it again, harder this time.

Clank-clank-hiss.

A tiny, pathetic dribble of brown water coughed out of the tap and then stopped entirely. Rivaan stared at it in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" He tried the hot water. Nothing. The flush? Empty.

"Kabir!" Rivaan shouted from inside. "The water stopped! Did you use all of it?"

"Yesssssss!" Kabir shouted back from the bedroom, followed by the sound of him spraying perfume.

Rivaan sighed, his hair already slightly damp and messy from his attempt to start the shower. He realized he couldn't stay in there forever. He hadn't even started changing. He wrapped the towel securely around his waist and pulled the door open to ask for help.

He stepped out into the room, bare-chested.

The cool air of the AC hit his skin instantly. Because Rivaan spent most of his time hidden under oversized hoodies or stiff school blazers, no one really saw the results of his secret, late-night stress-relief workouts.

His abs were sharp and defined, casting shadows in the morning light. His biceps and shoulders were toned, the muscles shifting fluidly as he reached up to run a hand through his damp, ruffled hair in frustration. He looked less like a topper and more like a Greek statue that had accidentally wandered into a Rishikesh resort.

At that exact moment, the main door of the room swung open.

"Oye, Kabir! Mom is asking if you guys are—"

Vanya froze.

She was standing in the doorway, her hand still on the handle. Beside her, Meher and Tanvi were peering in. The girls had come to check on them, but now, they were staring at a very shirtless, very muscular Rivaan Malhotra.

Rivaan's eyes widened. He stood paralyzed, his hand still in his hair, his chest heaving slightly from the humidity of the bathroom.

"Umm..." Vanya whispered, her gaze dropping to his abs and then shooting back up to his eyes so fast she almost got whiplash. Her face turned a color that didn't even exist on the color wheel.

Kabir, who was busy putting on his shoes, looked up and saw the scene. A slow, devilish grin spread across his face.

"Oh ho!" Kabir hollered, clapping his hands. "Welcome to the show, ladies! Rivaan"

"Aaaaaaaaaa!" Rivaan roared, his ears turning deep pink as he dived back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted from chaotic to a strange, charged hum. Rivaan had finally emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed in the crisp white chikankari kurta. The dampness from his hair made the fabric cling slightly to his shoulders, and even though he was covered up, the image of him from ten minutes ago was still playing on a loop in Vanya's head.

Kabir, Meher, Tanvi, and Kriday were all squeezed onto the oversized bed like a jury, watching the door as Rivaan approached Vanya.

Rivaan stopped a few feet away from her. He looked polished, smelling faintly of sandalwood and soap, but his eyes were still a little shy as they landed on her yellow suit.

"Aap... aap taiyar nahi hui?" he asked softly, his voice cutting through the silent teasing of the others.

Vanya looked up, trying her best not to let her gaze linger on his chest for too long. She felt like her tongue was tied in a knot. "Umm... haan. Jayenge abhi," she managed to say, fiddling with her bangles.

Rivaan rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit that Vanya had started to find incredibly endearing. He took a small step closer, lowering his voice so the audience on the bed wouldn't hear every word.

"Woh... um, Vanya suniye," he murmured. "Woh aapke paas yellow dupatta hai kya? Maa shayad rakhna bhul gayi hain... aur Kabir keh raha hai ki Haldi ke liye theme wahi hai."

Vanya felt a spark of excitement. The idea of him wearing something she provided—something that would match her—made her heart do a little skip. She stood up, her yellow suit fluttering around her ankles.

"Haan, room mein rakha hai. Aaiye," she said, gesturing toward the open door of her room across the hall.

As they both walked out, Kabir didn't miss the chance. He leaned toward Meher and whispered loudly, "Araam se aana koi jaldi nahi hai"

Rivaan ignored him, though his ears flashed that signature pink again. He followed Vanya into her room, the door staying slightly ajar.

The girls room was filled with the scent of jasmine and rosewater. Vanya walked over to her suitcase and pulled out a bright, sunshine-yellow bandhani dupatta. It was soft, hand-dyed, and perfect.

"Yeh lijiye," she said, turning around to hand it to him.

Rivaan took it, his fingers brushing against hers. He didn't pull away immediately. He looked at the dupatta, then at her, his voice dropping to that intimate, quiet tone he only used with her. "Thank you, Vanya. It... it matches yours."

Vanya's breath caught. She looked at the floor, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Haan. Maine extra rakh liya tha. Just in case..."

Rivaan's smirk returned, the one he'd discovered on the train. "Just in case mai bhool jaun?"

Vanya looked up, her eyes sparking with a mix of shyness and mischief. "Maybe."

Rivaan let out a soft laugh and draped the yellow fabric over his white kurta. He looked at Vanya one last time before heading out. "Taiyar ho kar aaiye. Main bahar wait kar raha hoon."

.

.

.

Rivaan was holding a glass of juice, but he nearly dropped it the second Vanya came into view. His brain, which could usually solve complex Physics equations in seconds, completely short-circuited.

He stared at the way the sun hit the mirrors on her top. She looked bright, confident, and dangerously pretty. The voice in his head was screaming. "Is she even real? How am I supposed to talk to her without stuttering like a broken radio?" He felt his pulse racing in his fingertips. He realized that no matter how many books he read, nothing had prepared him for her

The Haldi ceremony was in full swing, with the smell of fresh turmeric and marigold flowers filling the air. As Shreya di sat in the center looking like a bright yellow goddess, Vanya and Meher huddled together on a nearby bench, their eyes scanning the crowd.

Vanya leaned in close to Meher, her eyes darting toward Rivaan, who was busy talking to some elders. "Yaar, everything is perfect. The vibe, the music, the clothes... then why isn't he proposing to me yet?"

Meher rolled her eyes, adjusting her gharara. "To tu karde na usey! You saw him earlier—he practically froze when he saw you. Poor guy is probably too shy to even say hello properly, let alone propose."

"Hatt! Hame bhi toh sharam aati hai! Vanya whispered-shouted, her face turning pink.

"Fine, then keep waiting," Meher shrugged playfully. "Aise hi chalta rahega toh kal ko uske ghar koi aur bahu le aayengi uski mummy

Vanya's eyes widened in pure horror. "Whatttttt? Nooo wayyyy!"

"Then stop waiting for a miracle," Meher nudged her. "You should be the one to propose to him."

Meanwhile, behind a large decorative pillar, Kabir was currently holding a half-eaten samosa in one hand and shaking Rivaan by the shoulder with the other.

"Bhai, look at her," Kabir gestured vaguely toward Vanya. "She's literally glowing. If you don't propose today, I'm going to start believing you're actually a robot programmed only for studies."

Rivaan looked down at his shoes, his ears already glowing. "I want to, Kabir. I really do. But what if she says no? Or what if she thinks it's too soon? I don't want to ruin the friendship."

"Friendship? Rivaan, she gave you her dupatta you asked for!" Kabir groaned. "The only thing you're ruining is my mental health"

Rivaan sighed, looking at Vanya across the lawn. "I just need the right moment. Something... quiet."

"Quiet? This is a destination wedding in Rishikesh!" Kabir laughed. "Go over there, say something sweet, and just do it. Before her mom finds her a suitable boy who isn't a scaredy-cat like you."

Rivaan took a deep breath, clutching the edge of his yellow dupatta. "Okay. I'll do it. Just... not while everyone is watching."

"Excuses, excuses," Kabir muttered, taking a massive bite of his samosa. "The clock is ticking, meri biwi!"

The celebration had moved to the resort's open terrace. The cool Rishikesh breeze was a welcome relief, but the atmosphere around the large circular seating area was anything but chilly. The parents were in interrogation mode, and the topic was the one every Indian teenager dreads: The Future.

Manas and Manish were chilling with their legs crossed, laughing and passing around snacks. But Rajeev and Siddharth sat like statues, their expressions as sharp as a courtroom summons.

"So," Manish started, breaking the ice with a grin. "Our kids are almost adults. What's the plan? Who is going to be the next big thing?"

Kabir didn't even wait. He leaned back, looking completely relaxed. "I'm going to be an Artist. I want to see my work in galleries and on screens."

Manish smiled, patting Kabir's back. "I'm with you!"

Meher stood up slightly, her eyes full of ambition. "I'm going to be a successful businesswoman. Actually, I plan on being the richest person in my entire bloodline."

Manas cheered, raising his glass. "That's my girl! Just don't forget your papa when you're a billionaire."

Then, it was Rivaan's turn. He felt Siddharth's gaze boring into his skull. He straightened his back, his voice steady but low. "I want to be an IPS Officer"

Siddharth gave a single, stiff nod. It wasn't a hug or a cheer, but for Rivaan, that lack of a lecture was a victory.

Tanvi jumped in next, trying to keep the mood light. "Oh, I want to be a Fashion Designer! I already have so many ideas for my first collection."

The moms smiled, but Rajeev's face was still like stone.

He turned his eyes toward Vanya. "And you? You've been very quiet. I hope you've been thinking about the medical entrance exams I told you about."

Vanya's hands started to shake under the table. She looked at Meher, then at Rivaan. Rivaan gave her a tiny, encouraging nod, his eyes soft.

"Papa... actually..." Vanya began, her voice hesitant. "I don't want to do medicine. I want to be an Author. I want to write novels."

The silence that followed was deafening. The laughter from Manas and Manish died out.

Rajeev stood up, his face turning a dark shade of red. "An Author?" he spat the word out like it was a joke. "Vanya, have you lost your mind? I am spending lakhs on your education so you can write stories? It's a hobby, not a career!"

"But Papa, I love it—"

"I don't care what you love!" Rajeev scolded her, his voice rising in front of everyone. "We Mittals have a reputation. You think people will respect you for writing fairy tales? You're going to be a doctor, and that's the end of it. Don't let me hear this nonsense again!"

Vanya sat with her head bowed, a single tear escaping as her father's harsh words about her dream of being an author echoed in the quiet night. Rajeev was still fuming, looking around at the other families as if expecting them to agree that storytelling was a waste of time.

Rivaan, who had been silent out of respect for his elders, couldn't take it anymore. He saw the way Vanya's spirit was shrinking. He stood up slowly, drawing every eye in the circle toward him.

"Uncle, I'm sorry to interrupt," Rivaan said, his voice calm but incredibly firm. "But you're wrong about Vanya."

Rajeev blinked, shocked that Rivaan was talking back. "Rivaan? You're a smart boy, you should understand that life isn't a storybook."

"That's exactly the point, Uncle," Rivaan stepped forward, glancing at Vanya, who had finally looked up in surprise. "Life is exactly what we write for ourselves. You want her to be a doctor because it brings respect. But respect comes from being the best at what you do. Vanya doesn't just write stories. She builds worlds. She has a voice that people actually want to hear."

He turned to the whole group, his confidence unshakable. "We talk about clearing exams and getting titles, but those are just jobs. Vanya's writing is a gift. If she's forced to spend her life in a hospital when her heart is in a library, you won't get a great doctor,you'll just lose a daughter’s happiness. And isn't her being happy the whole point of your hard work?"

Siddharth glared at his son, but Rivaan didn't back down. He looked directly at Rajeev. "Vanya is an aspiring novelist who is already building a following. She has a vision. Please don't take that away from her just because it doesn't fit a traditional mold."

The silence returned, but this time it was different. Rajeev looked at Rivaan, then at his daughter's tear-stained face. He saw the way Rivaan was standing in front of her like a shield. He looked at Manas and Manish, who were nodding slowly in agreement with Rivaan.

Rajeev took a deep breath, his shoulders finally dropping. He sat back down and looked at Vanya for a long time.

"I... I only wanted you to be secure, Vanya," Rajeev said, his voice much softer now. "I didn't realize it meant this much to you. And I didn't realize others saw your hobby with so much respect."

He looked at Rivaan and gave a small, weary smile. "It seems the future IPS officer is already very good at winning an argument. Fine. Vanya... we will talk about your books. But you have to promise to be the best author there is."

Vanya let out a breath she had been holding for years. She looked at Rivaan, her eyes shining with more than just tears, they were glowing with pure, unfiltered gratitude. Rivaan just gave her a small, private nod and sat back down, his heart finally stopping its frantic racing

Siddharth, not wanting to be left out of the strict parent role, turned to Kriday. "And you? The youngest. What is your grand plan?"

Kriday, seeing the drama with Vanya, gulped. "Umm... abhi to kuch nahi socha hai, Dad..."

Siddharth's glare was enough to freeze the Taj Mahal. "Nothing? At thirteen, Rivaan knew his entire path. You're just wasting time."

"Aap to kama hi rahe ho, bhaiya bhi kamane lag jayenge 8-9 saal baad, mujhe kya hi jarurat hai hehehe" Kriday murmured to himself

The night air in Rishikesh was cool, but Vanya felt a warmth she hadn't experienced in years. She walked slowly through the quiet garden, the grass damp beneath her feet. Her mind was racing with thoughts of her stories and her future. For the first time, she didn't feel like she had to hide her identity as a novelist or her work on Wattpad. She felt light, knowing her father finally understood her dream.

Up on the balcony, Rivaan stood in the shadows. He had changed out of his kurta, but the weight of the day was still on him. He saw the small, glowing figure of Vanya moving near the pillars. Without a second thought, he turned and headed down the stairs.

He stepped onto the grass, his footsteps quiet. Vanya turned around, her eyes widening when she saw him.

"Vanya," he said softly, stopping a few feet away.

"Rivaan...." she trailed off, a shy smile spreading across her face. "I don't even know how to thank you. What you said to Papa... you changed everything for me."

Rivaan rubbed the back of his neck, his ears catching the faint light of the garden lamps. "I didn't do much, Vaani. I just told him the truth. You're meant to write books, not prescriptions. I couldn't let him take that away from you."

Vanya took a step closer, the golden tassels on her dress jingling softly. "You really believe in me, don't you? Even as an UPSC aspirant, you think stories matter?".

"Especially as someone who wants to be in the IPS," Rivaan said, his voice dropping to that private tone he saved only for her. "We deal with the world as it is. But people like you? You imagine how the world could be. That's more important."

"I'm going to be the best author, Rivaan," she promised, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I'll even write a character based on a very stubborn, very brave IPS officer."

Rivaan let out a soft, genuine laugh. "Just make sure he has a better sense of humor than I do."

"Impossible," Vanya whispered, her heart doing that familiar flutter. "There's only one Rivaan Malhotra."

Rivaan felt his heart skip a beat at her words, the simple truth in her voice hitting him harder than any logic ever could

"Vanya..." he began, his voice barely a whisper before he cleared his throat to find his composure. He gestured toward a wooden bench tucked away under a canopy of jasmine vines. "Can we sit... for a while?"

Vanya nodded, her tassels jingling softly as she moved to sit beside him. The garden was perfectly still, the only sound being the distant rush of the Ganga and the rhythmic chirping of crickets.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the space between them filled with everything they hadn't said yet. Rivaan leaned back, looking up at the sky. "The moon looks different here in Rishikesh, doesn't it?"

Vanya followed his gaze, her eyes reflecting the silver glow. "It looks peaceful," she murmured. "Like it's watching over all the stories being written down here."

Rivaan turned his head slightly to look at her instead of the sky. His hands resting on his knees, his fingers nervously tracing the fabric of his trousers. He took a deep breath, the scent of jasmine filling the air.

"Vanya," he started, his voice barely louder than the rustle of the leaves. He didn't look at her yet, keeping his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. "Umm... you were looking beautiful today."

Vanya's heart skipped a beat. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, thankful for the dim moonlight that partially hid her blush. She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the golden tassels of her dress.

"Just today?" she teased softly, her voice trembling just a little.

Rivaan finally turned his head, his gaze meeting hers. The usual brooding statue look was gone, replaced by a vulnerability she rarely saw. "No," he said firmly. "Not just today. But today... it was different"

Vanya felt a flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with the cool breeze. "Is that a good thing?"

"It's the best thing," Rivaan replied, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He moved his hand slightly closer to hers on the bench, though he didn't quite touch her. "I've always known you were a storyteller, Vanya. But seeing you stand up for it... it made me realize how much I—"

He stopped himself. He looked back up at the moon, exhaling slowly.

"How much you what?" Vanya prompted, her voice a whisper. She shifted closer, the distance between them shrinking until she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

Rivaan looked back at her, his eyes intense and full of words he wasn't ready to say out loud yet. "How much I respect you," he finished, though the weight in his voice suggested there was a much bigger word he was holding back. "I'm glad I'm the one who gets to see this version of you."

Vanya leaned her head slightly toward his shoulder, not quite touching, but close enough that her hair brushed against his sleeve. "I'm glad it was you who took that stand for me, Rivaan. I don't think I could have done it alone."

"You're never alone, Vaani," Rivaan said, his voice low and steady. "Not as long as I'm around."

Kabir was in the middle of a struggle with his kurta, which was now more yellow from turmeric than white from the fabric. He managed to tug it over his head and toss it toward his suitcase, leaving him in just his lowers. He had completely forgotten to lock the door.

Across the hall, Meher was pacing. The conversation she had earlier with Vanya was playing on a loop in her head. She realized that her heart was doing something strange whenever Kabir was around, something that didn't feel like best friend behavior anymore.

"Just tell him," she whispered to herself. "Tell him before you lose your mind."

She marched to his room, her mustard-yellow gharara swishing with every determined step. She didn't knock; she never did. She pushed the door open, her heart in her throat

"Kabir! Listen, I need to tell you something. I've been feeling this weird thing for someone and—"

The words died in her throat.

Kabir froze, half-turned toward the bed. He wasn't wearing anything on his upper body. The golden light of the room hit the lean muscles of his chest and shoulders

Kabir's breath hitched. For seven years, he had hidden his love for her behind sarcasm and silly fights. He had loved her since they were kids, keeping it a secret because he was terrified that the chaotic best friends dynamic was the only way he could keep her in his life.

Now, for the first time, the flirt had no comeback. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a split second, the mask slipped. His gaze was intense, raw, and full of the seven years of longing he had never voiced.

Meher felt a sudden, violent rush of heat to her face. Her brain felt like it had been replaced by static. She had spent a decade fighting with this boy, calling him an idiot, and pulling his hair, but seeing him like this, and seeing that look in his eyes, changed everything.

"Heeeee rammmmm!" she squeaked, her voice three octaves higher than usual.

"Meher, wait—" Kabir started, taking a step forward.

But Meher didn't wait. She turned on her heel and ran back into the hallway as fast as her gharara would allow.

Kabir stood alone in the room, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at the open door, a slow, frustrated, yet hopeful grin spreading across his face. "Seven years, Kabir," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "And the one time she has something to say, you're half-naked."

The hallway was cloaked in a sudden, heavy darkness as Kabir reached for the switch, plunging the space into shadows. Meher froze, her breath hitching as the silence of the resort felt amplified. She began to walk forward tentatively, her hands reaching out to feel the wall, her heart still racing from the encounter moments before.

Suddenly, a warm, firm hand clamped around her wrist.

Before she could even gasp, Kabir pulled her with effortless strength, drawing her back into the sanctuary of his room and kicking the door shut. The only light came from a small bedside lamp, casting long, flickering shadows against the walls. Kabir had thrown on a black shirt, but he hadn't bothered to button it all the way up, and the dark fabric made him look sharper, more dangerous than the boy who cracked jokes

He pinned her gently but firmly against the door, his body blocking her escape. Their faces were inches away, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin and the faint scent of his cologne.

"Hmm... so, for whom are you falling?" Kabir asked, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that sent a shiver straight down her spine.

Meher tried to look away, but the intensity in his gaze, a look he had perfected over seven years of secret longing—held her captive. "Kabir, move... this isn't funny," she whispered, though she didn't actually push him away.

"I'm not laughing, Meher," he murmured, leaning in until his lips were hovering just beside her ear. "You came to my door to tell me something. Now I'm listening. Tell me who has managed to make the great Meher Kapoor lose her words."

Meher's breath came in shallow hitches. The friend she usually fought with was gone, replaced by a man who knew exactly the effect he was having on her. She could feel his heart beating steadily against her own, a silent rhythm that seemed to demand the truth.

"Why do you care?" she challenged, her voice trembling as she finally met his eyes.

Kabir leaned back just enough to look into her soul, his thumb tracing a slow, agonizing circle on her wrist. "Because," he whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes, "I've spent seven years waiting for you to realize that the person you're looking for... has been standing right in front of you the whole time."

Meher's back was pressed hard against the door, her lungs feeling like they had forgotten how to function. The air in the room was thick, and Kabir was so close she could see the golden flecks in his eyes that usually remained hidden behind his jokes.

"Seven years, Meher," Kabir whispered, his voice cracking with a raw honesty that terrified her. "Seven years of watching you, fighting with you, and pretending that I was okay with just being your best friend while I was actually falling apart every time you talked about someone else."

Meher felt a jolt of electricity run through her. She was completely startled, her eyes widening as she searched his face for any sign of a prank. But Kabir wasn't smiling. For the first time since they were kids, the mask of the class clown was completely gone.

"Every time we fought over something stupid, every time I teased you until you were mad... it was just because I didn't know how to handle how much I loved you," he confessed, his hand moving from her wrist to the door beside her head, effectively trapping her in his space. "I thought if I stopped joking, I'd lose you. But I can't keep the best friend act up anymore. Not after tonight."

Meher's heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She had come here to confess her own confusing feelings, but she hadn't expected a seven-year-old confession in return

"Kabir... seven years?" she managed to breathe out, her voice trembling.

"Every single day," Kabir replied, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes with a look so deep it made her feel breathless. "So, Meher Kapoor.... for whom are you falling? Because if it's not me, I'll spend the rest of my life wishing I had been enough to make you stay."

Meher felt the room spinning, but for the first time in her life, she didn't want to run away. She looked at Kabir, the boy who had been her constant shadow and her favorite rival for seven years, and realized that her own heart had been shouting the truth all along.

With a surge of sudden, bold courage, she reached out and gripped the collar of his black shirt. Her knuckles brushed against his chest as she pulled him down toward her, forcing him to lean in until their lips were barely inches apart.

Kabir froze, his breath hitching as the roles suddenly reversed. He could see the fire in her eyes and feel the heat of her skin.

Meher didn't kiss him. Instead, she tilted her head and leaned in close, her lips almost touching the shell of his ear. She whispered in a voice that was low, steady, and full of a decade's worth of realization.

"You really think I'd let you wait another seven years? You're an idiot, Kabir Sharma... but you're my idiot. And for the record? I'm falling for you so hard it's actually annoying."

Before Kabir could even process the words, let alone wrap his arms around her, Meher let go of his collar, ducked under his arm, and bolted out the door.

Kabir stood there in the middle of the room, the silence now feeling loud and electric. He touched his collar where her hands had just been, a slow, dazed expression taking over his face.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, saw the deep, crimson color spreading across his cheeks, and let out a shaky, breathless laugh. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, a huge, goofy smile breaking through his shock.

"She's going to be the death of me," he whispered to the empty room, his face still glowing with an unstoppable, deep blush.

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Drop your thoughts below

Ik boring chapter my brain is not braining anymore

Sorry cutus 😭💔