Kyra

I roll my shoulders back before typing in another set of words on my laptop. My muscles ache from the hours of writing, and I'm pretty sure there's a cramp settling in my neck. With a tired glance, I skim through the text, fixing any lingering mistakes before finally saving the document. Leaning back into the library chair, its soft velvet brushing against my skin, I let out a deep sigh, exhaustion creeping up my bones.

The white noise of the rain pouring outside seeps into the quiet library, the gentle pitter-patter washing over me like a lullaby. A sense of calm settles in my bones, my body unconsciously relaxing into the stillness of the moment.

It had been a long day, filled with loads of work which had to be finished and absolutely no time for relaxation. My heart had almost convinced me to skip my classes today so I could have some time to myself, but fortunately, my head had won over and I practically dragged myself, against my own will, to sit through the hour-long classes after which I had showed up the library to finish assignments and write for some time.

At least keeping myself busy was better than feeling that regular sense of loneliness. The house was quiet these days, It was just me, Riri, and the continuing tip tap of rain on the roof. Everyone was busy, some with college and some with work. I can't even remember the last time I talked to my brother or sister properly, besides the occasional "what's up"s and "how are you"s.

Mom and Dadi had decided to take a trip to one of our relatives, and Dad... Well, he went back to pretending I didn't exist. Anvi and Ishaan had gotten themselves occupied with each other and as for Shiv and Mariam, they were as busy as my brother was with the upcoming projects.

I did talk to Rooh and Inaya over the phone from time to time, Kaynaaz crashed with me in my bedroom when she didn't have an evening shift at the hospital... Yet I still felt that odd, irritating, hollow emptiness growing every day.

I did try to distract myself, like today, but as soon as I was underneath my sheets trying to drift off into a nice sweet and calming dream, the emptiness clawed me back, dragging me out by my feet.

These days, I'm more scared of this hollow feeling than any monster trying to catch me from under my bed.

Thoughts in my mind scatter as the bittersweet fragrance of freshly brewed coffee floats in the air around me. I open my eyes, which had fallen shut on their own accord before searching around for the source of such a delicious scent.

My breath hitches as my gaze locks onto the tall, dark shadow standing between two bookshelves. His face is hidden beneath the hood of his jacket, but the dim light catches on the curve of his jaw. In each hand, he holds a cup of warm coffee, the faint tendrils of steam curling into the quiet air.

"Seems like Oreos aren't the only things that spike your interest, Señorita," I shake my head, letting out a quiet sigh as his deep voice fills the silence. A scowl tugs at my lips, disbelief settling in my chest.

Well, if it isn't the bane of my existence. Of course, he would show up now—just when I thought I had a moment to myself.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Sharma?" I question, annoyance clear in my words.

Ansh steps out of the shadows, his tall muscular body appearing larger than the chestnut bookshelves on either side of him. The dim library lights cast soft shadows over his sharp jawline, highlighting the smirk playing on his lips. His hood remains up, but it does nothing to hide the knowing glint in his dark eyes—watching, waiting, forming a response.

"I just happened to require a book for some work, Ms Rajvanshi. How odd it is that I found you here," He replies, a hint of playfulness in his words.

I roll my eyes at his excuse before slipping out of the plush couch I had settled into for the evening, placing my laptop on the nearby coffee table. My gaze lingers on him for a moment—his hair is slightly longer than the last time I saw him, the strands falling messily over his forehead. It's been a month since he barged into my room, muttered something blasphemous, and vanished without a trace.

Ansh notices my stare, his smirk deepening as if he can hear the thoughts running through my head. His presence is just as unsettling as ever—always there, always lingering, yet slipping through my fingers like smoke the moment I try to hold onto it.

"It's rude to stare, you know," he drawls, stepping closer, the scent of rain and something distinctly him wrapping around me.

I cross my arms, raising an unimpressed brow. "So is breaking into my room and disturbing me when I'm trying to have a peaceful evening."

A deep chuckle leaves his throat, making the coffee cups in his handshake a little.

"I told u Kyra, I just happened to need a book for some work," he argues

"And you rode your bike in the rain to come retrieve this book from the library I just happened to be at?" I scoff, looking at him in disbelief.

"Are you worried about me riding my bike in the rain?" He questions, the mischief in his eyes not going unnoticed by me.

"You're unbelievable," I mutter before shaking my head.

Ansh carefully sets the cups of coffee on the table beside him before stepping closer. His presence looms over me, his tall frame casting a shadow that forces me to tilt my head up just to meet his gaze. I cross my arms in front of my chest as if forming some sort of barrier, as I continue to stare into his golden brown eyes.

His eyes hold mine for a few lingering seconds before they drift lower, settling on my pink-stained lips. He stays there, unmoving, as if caught in a trance—until he snaps himself out of it with a quiet throat clear, his composure slipping back into place.

"Just so u don't worry Mademoiselle, I drove my car here not my bike. And yes, I just happened to end up at the same library as you. Now if you're done questioning me, let's have some coffee before it turns cold and goes to waste," Ansh says, his voice much quieter and calmer than it had been a few minutes ago.

I look at him, and then at the coffee placed on the huge table at his side.

"And why exactly would I have coffee with you?" I ask, my eyebrow raised in question.

He steps away from me, creating some distance before pulling out a chair for me. He waits before me to sit, patiently holding to the back of the chair.

"Because you love coffee, and clearly, you need it. Now, please sit, baby." There's a quiet desperation in his voice, a raw edge that sends a shiver down my spine. My knees weaken at the way he says that last word like a secret only meant for me.

Before my legs betray me, I sink into the chair in front of me, gripping its edges for support. Across from me, Ansh pulls out his chair, settling in with an effortless ease. He slides the pink cup of coffee toward me without a word, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest second before he takes his own.

I stare at the coffee with a flicker of suspicion, torn between my body's desperate craving for caffeine and the unsettling uncertainty of accepting something from a man whose trustworthiness remains a mystery to me.

I've known Ansh for more than a few months now, yet I cannot get myself to trust this man. But then again, somewhere deep down I know he wouldn't hurt me. At least not as much as I was already.

Still, can you blame a girl for not believing her stalker?

I quickly look away from the cup, my gaze snapping to Ansh, only to find him already watching me. His expression is unreadable, his dark eyes studying mine, before he takes a slow sip from his coffee. I watch him closely, waiting for any sign, any hint of something off.

When he shows none, I point at his cup and speak, "I want that cup,"

He raises an eyebrow in question before a chuckle escapes his lips, realization dawning on him.

"You think I mixed something in your coffee? Trust me, Kyra, if I wanted to kidnap you or something, I would've done it without you being unconscious. If you're still so untrusting of me, then here," He says, before exchanging our cups and settling for the pink one himself.

I watch him take a sip out of the cup, slowly savouring the warm drink. When he gives no reaction, I sigh and finally wrap my fingers around the warm cup, its heat seeping into my hands. Bringing it closer to my lips, I hesitate just for a second before taking a small sip. The rich bittersweet taste of the coffee coats my tongue, a hint of hazelnut making me let out a sound of delight.

I hate how it tastes so good, and I hate it even more that he knows exactly what I like.

I slowly drain the entire cup, the warmth seeping through me as I lick the lingering taste off my lips. Leaning back into my chair, I watch in silence as Ansh takes his final sip, his movements unhurried, his expression unreadable.

He places his empty cup on the table, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic as if lost in thought. The silence between us stretches, filled only by the distant hum of rain outside. My eyes linger on him—on the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers curl slightly like he's holding something back.

Finally, he exhales, his voice lower than before. "Do you trust me now?"

I purse my lips before looking away to escape his gaze.

Okay, maybe I did exaggerate the whole trust and worthiness thing. He wouldn't hurt me.

I look up again, as I scratch my head, thinking of something to divert the topic.

"How did u know how I liked my coffee?" I questioned, suddenly curious.

He shakes his head, as if in disbelief, before leaning over the table, "I know everything about you, my love," he whispers as if it's a secret.

"No, you do not,"

"I do Señorita, from the fact that you're trying to write a book, to the fact that you're two dimples instead of just one like you always claim," he says ever so calmly.

"I only have one dimple, on my right cheek," I argue.

"No." He shakes his head, denying my statement.

"What do you mean no? I said—" I start, my voice laced with frustration, but before I can argue any further, he cuts me off.

"You don't even notice things about yourself, Kyra," he says, his voice softer now, almost exasperated. "You do have a dimple on your right cheek, but there's one on your left too. It rarely makes an appearance—not just when you're truly happy, but when your heart overflows with love and affection for the people around you. It shows up when someone quietly listens to one of your poems when someone brings you Oreos just because they know you love them, or even when that silly cat of yours does something ridiculous, and you break out laughing, thinking no one is watching."

He pauses, taking in a deep breath, "I notice, I know, from the most obvious things to the things you don't know about yourself"

I stare ahead of me, at his face, completely dumbfounded. My head tilts to the side out of habit and my lips part to say something, but no words come out.

What on earth?

I try to warp my mind around the words which just left his lips, confused whether to be fascinated that he can remember such small details about me that not even my parents were aware of, or to be creeped out that he knew all of these things in the first place.

How come I never knew such a detail about myself, and he noticed so much that he was aware of what caused a second dimple to appear on my left cheek? Had I lost so much of myself, or was he just overly invested in noticing everything about me?

My head spins from the flood of questions crashing through my mind. I let out a frustrated sigh, suddenly feeling more lost and exhausted than I was before that warm cup of coffee.

My lips parted again, and I finally formed the question I had meant to ask, "How did you.. who are you?"

He chuckles at my flustered speech, the sound deep and rich, before a flicker of mischief dances through his eyes, "I am your future husband, Koshka, of course,"

Future husband? Is he joking right now? I look at him, trying to think of ways I can torture him without hurting him like he is doing to me.

He must see the disbelief on my face because he chuckles again, "Cat got your tongue, My Love?" He says, his arrogance reflecting in his tone.

I stand up abruptly, my seat scooting back with a loud scraping noise. I grab my laptop, annoyed at this man, who seemed to think he had the right to say whatever he wanted without any consequences.

He raises an eyebrow at my sudden change in demeanour, the hint of amusement still dancing in his eyes. "That's quite a temper you have there, Princess," he says casually, leaning back in his chair.

I take a deep breath, clenching my jaw to keep myself from saying something that I might regret later. "Mr Sharma," I say through gritted teeth, "let me give you a small suggestion, leave before I find a way to gauge out your eyes without committing a heinous crime,"

He tilts his head to the side, studying me for a moment before letting out another chuckle. "You truly are something else, Ms Rajvanshi," he says with a smirk on his face.

I roll my eyes and turn around to leave, to find a quieter part of the library to finish my work in when his hand suddenly shoots out and grabs mine. I whip around to glare at him, only to find that annoying smirk playing on his lips.

"When will I owe the pleasure of hearing my name from your lips, Señorita, it's torture to hear you call me just by my last name," he whispers.

I shoot him a glare, before looking down at his hold around my wrist. He notices before slowly letting go, the feel of his warm fingers still lingering on my skin.

"Mr. Sharma," I say purposefully, "I have no intentions of being acquainted with you, so I'd rather not call you by your name. Now if you don't mind, I have work to finish,"

His lips part, eyes darkening slightly as if to say something or argue, but he stays slightly, only nodding to my words before settling back into his chair, probably not ready to leave yet.

. . .

A yawn leaves my lips as I stretch out my arms, the bones off my back cracking from the effort. My laptop screen brightens up the dark corner I had settled on to avoid Ansh's burning gaze. He was still upright where I had left him after refusing to call him anything except his last name, probably sulking like a kid being denied candy.

I look at the large hanging clock in the middle of the library striking seven pm, before turning in my chair to look at the weather outside. It was raining heavier than it was before, and I regretted not bringing my car with me. A sigh leaves my lips and I scratch my head in confusion. I don't even have an umbrella.

"Let me take you home," I jump in my seat at Ansh's sudden voice.

"Can't you show up like a normal person? I couldn't even hear you approaching me," I whispered and yelled at him, my skin still buzzing at his sudden appearance.

"No. Let me take you home, it's starting to get dark, and you don't have your car," he offers again.

I shake my head, refusing to accept his kindness, "No, I'll go on my own,"

"So leave now, it'll be dark soon, if you're not letting me take you at least leave early so u can reach safely,"

"I don't have an umbrella," I point at the huge window behind me before speaking again, "I'll get wet in all this rain,"

He releases a long, heavy sigh, his breath echoing with a mix of resignation and resolve, before gently placing an object in front of me. My eyes fixate on the umbrella he has set down on the table. Slowly, I shift my gaze back to him, searching his expression for answers.

"What-"

"The only thing that is getting you wet is me, Now take the umbrella and scurry home before I drag you to my car," He warned, his gaze intense and unwavering, as if daring me to defy him.

I narrowed my eyes at his suggestive words ready to give back a sassy reply, but I couldn't deny that the thought of him dragging me to his car sounded like torture. So close my laptop without a second thought and give him a small nod before standing up from my chair.

He stands up tall, towering over me with his height, making me feel small in comparison. Not giving me a chance to protest, he grabs my hand and thrusts the umbrella into my hand, its handle cool and smooth against my palm, as the rain drummed rhythmically on the window behind us.

Ansh gently raises his hand, his fingers brushing against my skin as he carefully tucks a stray lock of hair back into place, his touch feather-light and tender. His gaze lingers on me, deep and searching, as though he's studying every detail, every contour of my face.

It's the same intense look he had given me earlier when he arrived with steaming cups of coffee, a look filled with intention as if he's trying to etch my image permanently into the canvas of his memory.

"Be safe, Señorita," he whispers, his words causing something deep inside me to bloom, "I'll be watching from afar, get home safely," he finishes, before stepping away from me.

I give a simple nod at his words, my mind a whirlpool of thoughts but none surfacing to form a response. My eyes linger on him for a moment, before I finally turn away, my footsteps echoing softly as I walk down to the entrance of the library.

As I approach the heavy wooden door of the library, I pause and glance back over my shoulder. There he stood, exactly where I had left him, his eyes fixed on me with a silent intensity. In an unexpected moment, I do something I never imagined I would: I flash him a beaming smile, my cheeks lifting and eyes crinkling with genuine delight. I don't wait to see his reaction, opening the large door in front of me and stepping into the heavy rain.

Outside, the rain cascades onto the pavement with relentless fury, pounding against the ground as though the god of thunder himself had been provoked. I gingerly open the umbrella, ready to venture out into the heavy downpour, when suddenly, I feel a firm grip on my hand, pulling me back into the shelter of the doorway. I whirl around, my expression set to scold Ansh for what feels like the hundredth time today, but my sharp words falter as I lock eyes with the familiar figure I had least expected to see.

"Aditya?" I say, the genuine surprise and shock clear in my speech.

Aditya Singhania gazes back at me with an expression that reveals nothing. His hair has grown longer since I last saw him at Kanishk's wedding, cascading in soft waves around his face. He stands just outside the library door, a well-worn leather bag slung casually over his shoulder, its weight pulling slightly at his stance.

"Hi, Kyra Di... fancy bumping into you here," he quips with a sarcastic edge to his voice, a grin playing on his lips.

"What... are you doing here?" I ask, unable to mask the curiosity that's bubbling up inside me, my eyes narrowing slightly as I try to read his intentions.

"I have a favour to ask..."