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Shivansh's POV
For the past six months, despite the miles between us, Isha and I had woven an unspoken rhythm into our long-distance relationship. She was in Delhi, managing her firm, while I was buried under royal duties and business in Jaipur. Yet, we always found ways to stay connected.
A text before meals—three fixed messages—one for breakfast, one for lunch, one for dinner. "Don't skip your meals, no matter how busy you are." It was her daily ritual, nagging but endearing. She knew me too well—knew that skipping meals was my second nature.
Every night, no matter how hectic our schedules were, we ended the day together, even if just through a screen. A video call before calling it a night. It had become our unspoken rule. Some nights, we'd talk endlessly; some nights, we'd just stare at each other, letting silence say everything.
We talked all day.
From the moment she woke up to the moment she went to bed, there was never a time when we weren't connected.
A simple "Good morning" text from her would land on my phone before I even opened my eyes, followed by a dozen little messages throughout the day—updates about her work, complaints about her busy schedule, random thoughts that had nothing to do with anything but somehow still mattered.
And I responded. Always.
No matter how many meetings I was in, no matter how many deals I had to close, her texts were the only notifications I never ignored.
We called each other whenever we had time. Even if it was just for a few seconds. Even if it was just to hear each other breathe.
And at night, when the world quieted down, we saw each other.
The video calls weren't planned, but they always happened. She would be curled up in bed, a book in her hand, her hair falling over her face in a way that made me forget why I even called. She would talk about everything and nothing, and I would listen—because her voice was the only thing I wanted to hear before falling asleep.
But it wasn't enough.
Somehow, despite all the calls, all the messages, all the time we spent staying connected, we still wanted more.
That's when the letters started.
The first time she sent me one, I didn't expect it. She had never been the kind to put her feelings into words so openly, but there it was—written in ink, undeniable.
And when I read it, I knew.
She loved me.
The first time she sent me a letter, I didn't expect it.
It was tucked neatly inside a greeting card, something simple yet carefully chosen. I remember the way the envelope felt in my hands—light, almost fragile, as if carrying something delicate. But when I unfolded the letter inside, I realized it was anything but fragile.
Her words had weight.
She wrote about the little things—how the morning sky in Delhi reminded her of something I once said, how she wished I would take better care of myself, how she missed me but would never admit it out loud.
I read it twice that night. Then a third time. And by the fourth, I wasn't reading anymore—I was memorizing.
It became the most precious thing I owned.
Not my cars, not the expensive watches, not the empire I built with my name on it. No, it was that single, handwritten letter from her.
And unlike everything else in my life, I didn't treat it like something temporary. I didn't leave it on my desk to gather dust or let it get lost between files. I kept it safe. Locked away in the deepest corner of my wardrobe, where no one else could find it.
After that, I started writing back.
At first, I wasn't sure how. I was a man of numbers, of negotiations, of deals sealed with signatures—not of love written in ink. But she made it easy. My letters to her were never perfect, never poetic, but they were real.
And then, without meaning to, it became our thing.
We sent each other letters, even when we could call, even when we could text. There was something different about ink on paper—something more permanent, more honest.
She never expected gifts with them. At first, she refused. Every time I sent something along with my letters—a book I thought she'd like, a bracelet that reminded me of her, even a simple coffee mug because she always forgot to buy one for herself—she'd say I didn't have to.
But she never understood.
She had a right to them. She had a right to everything that was mine.
So, I made sure she took them.
And now, here I am, sitting with a collection of letters, all hers. Neatly stacked in my safe, untouched by anyone but me.
Because I don't just read them. I keep them.
And then there was the coffee incident.
"Shivansh, drink your coffee before it gets cold," she'd nudge, every single time.
"Isha, coffee isn't a necessity, you know."
"No, but functioning properly is."
I never admitted it out loud, but her nagging made my day. She fussed over me like I was incapable of taking care of myself. And maybe, just maybe, I liked that she did.
But one particular day… she wasn't just scolding. She was furious.
Flashback: The Day I Skipped Meals
I had been too busy that day—meetings, conferences, negotiations. One thing led to another, and before I realized it, I had gone the entire day without eating.
When Dhruv and Avi sat with me later in the evening, discussing an upcoming deal, my head was pounding.
"Bhai sa, you okay?" Avi asked, concern evident in his voice.
"I'm fine," I grumbled, rubbing my temple.
"Did you even eat today?" Dhruv's voice held suspicion.
I scoffed. Big mistake.
Because within minutes, my phone buzzed—Isha.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again. And again.
I ignored it every time.
I know, if I answer she will scold me.
But till when I ignore her.
She will be furious.
I know
I made a big mistake.
Then, before I could react, Dhruv smirked and answered the call.
"Hello, Isha," he greeted.
"Put him on the damn phone, Dhruv bhai!" I heard her sharp voice from across the room.
Avi coughed to hide his laughter, while Dhruv, thoroughly enjoying himself, put the call on speaker.
"Shivansh Raghuvanshi, did you SKIP YOUR MEAL?"
I winced. She was yelling.
"Isha, I was just—"
"Don't even TRY. Answer me!"
Avi was biting his lip to keep from laughing.
"Maybe," I muttered.
"MAYBE?! MAYBE?! Do you think this is a joke? Skipping meals like some reckless idiot?"
"Isha—"
"No! I don't want to hear anything. Do you think your body runs on air? If you can handle entire empires, why can't you handle yourself?! Do you know what happens when you don't eat? Your sugar levels drop, your head pounds, and then you act like you're fine when you're not!"
Dhruv nudged me. "Dude, you're dead."
Dhruv chuckled. "I think she cares more about your health than you do."
"And YOU, Dhruv bhai! You live with him! How did you let this happen?" she snapped.
"Uh, I…" For the first time, Dhruv was speechless.
She kept scolding, her words sharp but laced with something deeper—worry.
"It's not about skipping a meal, Shivansh. It's about the fact that someone CARES about you. That someone wants you to be okay. And if you can't take care of yourself for you, then at least do it for me!"
Silence.
I swallowed, my heart clenching.
" Say something!" she demanded.
He sighed. "I'll eat."
"NOW."
"Fine." I ask for lunch, shooting a glare at Avi, who was still snickering.
Isha huffed. "And don't even think about blaming Dhruv Bhai or Avi bhai. I will find out if you're lying."
She hung up before I could say anything.
I turned to my so-called friends, who were now smirking at me.
"Which one of you told her?" I glared.
Avi raised his hand, smirking. "Oops?"
"Why the hell did you—"
"Oh, come on, man," Dhruv grinned. "You know you love it."
I groaned.
They weren't wrong.
It took two days of apologies—sweet texts, calls, even a handwritten letter—to make her forgive me. But in the end, she did.
And I never skipped a meal again.
Present Day
That memory lingered in my mind as I stared at my phone.
11 missed calls. No replies. No texts.
Isha hadn't messaged me the entire day.
Not even a simple "Don't skip your meals."
My gut clenched. She had never done this before.
No matter how busy we were, we always found time for each other. Even if it was just a single message.
But today? Nothing.
I tried calling again. Still no answer.
A sinking feeling settled in my chest.
I knew she was with her parents in Delhi, which should have reassured me. But it didn't.
Because this wasn't normal.
Something was wrong.
I stared at my phone screen, my fingers tightening around the device. Still no reply. No missed calls from her. No simple texts. Nothing.
The thoughts that had been nagging me since morning only grew darker.
Was she ignoring me?
Had I done something wrong?
Was she angry?
That couldn't be it. If she was upset, she would have at least sent a sarcastic text or scolded me. But this… this silence was different. It was unnatural.
I tried calling her again. Still unanswered.
I rubbed a hand over my face, frustration mixing with worry. Isha could be stubborn, but she was never this unresponsive.
Something was wrong.
I tapped my fingers impatiently on my desk, my eyes fixed on the phone screen. Still no reply.
Isha hadn't answered my messages since morning. Not even a single word. It was unusual—no, impossible. No matter how busy she was, she would always send a quick "Busy, talk later." But today, there was nothing.
I called her again. No answer.
Frowning, I leaned back in my chair. Maybe she was just caught up with work. Or maybe… she was ignoring me?
I was lost in thought when the door to my cabin opened. Dhruv and Avi walked in.
"Bhai sa, what happened?" Avi asked, noticing my tense expression.
"Isha isn't picking up my calls."
Dhruv pulled out his phone. "Wait, let me try." He called her, put it on speaker. It rang, but no one answered.
"She's not answering me either," Dhruv muttered, glancing at Avi.
Avi smirked. "Maybe she's just tired of your over-possessiveness, Bhai sa."
I shot him a glare. "Not in the mood, Avi."
Ignoring me, he pulled out his own phone. "Let me try."
I watched, my jaw tightening. The call connected, and for a second, my heart stopped.
"Ishu?" Avi said, his tone suddenly serious.
I straightened. Ishika?
Dhruv and I exchanged a glance. Ishika had picked up Avi's call, not Isha.
"Where is you?" Avi asked directly.
There was a long pause on the other end.
"I'm in the hospital. Why what happen?"
Silence.
The air in the room changed. I felt my stomach drop.
"Where is bhabhi maa?" His oice was sharp, demanding.
"She left for work in the morning. She was fine. But now she was not answering my call since last a hour and even prisha also. I don't know what happened,and i can't even go, I have surgery to qttend." Ishika said, her voice laced with worry.
My grip on the phone tightened. My chest felt heavy. What happen to her why she is not answering her call naf mine also.
I have to go.
Yes.
Ishika told us. I ended the call.
Dhruv and Avi looked at me, waiting.
"I'm going to Delhi." My voice was firm. No arguments. No second thoughts.
"But Bhai sa, you have back-to-back meetings today—"
"Cancel them," I snapped, grabbing my coat.
"I HAVE thought this through," I growled. "Something happened to Isha. I don't care about meetings right now. I need to see her."
Neither of them stopped me after that.
Dhruv sighed. "At least inform Ma—"
I was already dialing my mother. She picked up immediately.
"Shivansh?"
"I'm going to Delhi," I said shortly.
"What happened?" She sounded concerned.
"Isha is not picking up my calls."
There was a sharp intake of breath. "Is she okay?"
"I don't know. I'm going to find out."
I cut the call before she could say anything else.
As I headed for the airport, one thought kept running through my mind.
What happened to her?
I had called her over 50 times. Still no answer.
The Flight to Delhi
On the plane, i couldn't shake the growing fear in my chest. Isha never ignored me like this. Even if she was angry, she would at least say something sarcastic, send a passive-aggressive text, or block me for an hour just to prove a point. But this? Nothing.
My fingers tightened around my phone.
I call her many time. And now I even forget how many times I call her.
This 2 hours is pure hell for me.
What if…?
No. I couldn't let my mind go there.
I stared out the window, my reflection staring back at me.
"Just hold on, Isha. I'm coming."
The moment my plane landed, i didn't waste a second. I rushed through the airport, barely acknowledging the security personnel assigned to me.
My car pulled up to the her firm, and i stepped out, my heart hammering.
As i walked toward the entrance, my feet suddenly slowed.
For the first time since this panic began, fear clawed at my throat.
What would i find inside?
Was she okay?
Would she look up at me with her usual glare, scolding me for overreacting?
Or… would it be something worse?
Taking a deep breath, i clenched my fists and stepped forward.
Whatever it was, i was about to find out.
I stepped out of the car, my jaw tight, hands clenched into fists as I walked toward Isha's firm. The building looked empty—too empty. A strange feeling settled in my chest, a mix of unease and irritation. Where the hell was she? She hadn't answered my calls, not even once. It had been hours, and now I stood here, in front of her office, searching for answers.
As I reached the entrance, the security guard looked up from his chair, surprised to see me.
"Sir, office is closed today," he informed me politely.
My brows furrowed. "Closed?"
"Yes, sir. Isha ma'am gave everyone a holiday. She left early noon."
A holiday? Since when did she randomly give her employees a break? And why the hell didn't she tell me? My mind raced. Was she okay? Did something happen?
"Where did she go?" I asked, my voice sharper than intended.
The guard hesitated. "I—I don't know, sir. She left alone."
Alone?
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Something wasn't right. I immediately called Dhruv. "Trace her location. Now."
Within minutes, I had the details. A café. And she wasn't alone.
My grip tightened on the phone as I stared at the screen. Isha was sitting with a man—laughing. The same Isha who hadn't bothered to call me back or even text. She was happily spending her time with someone else?
Then I saw it. The hug. The forehead kiss.
A storm erupted inside me. My vision blurred with pure rage. Without thinking, I turned on my heels and drove straight to the café.
I was waiting for her outside then I saw her the moment she stepped out of the café, her phone still in her hand, completely unaware that I was about to turn her world upside down.
Before she could reach her car, I moved. My grip was firm yet urgent as I grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward me. A gasp left her lips as I spun her around and pushed her gently against the wall in the deserted alley beside the café.
My blood was boiling.
I had been calling her for hours. She didn't answer.
Then he hugged her.
Kissed her fucking forehead.
And that was it.
I didn't think. I didn't stop. I just acted.
By the time she took a step toward her car, I was already behind her.
Before she could react, my hand covered her mouth, my arm wrapped around her waist, and I lifted her off the ground.
She struggled—kicking, thrashing, trying to break free. Like hell I'd let her go.
I pulled her into the nearest dark alley, away from everyone, away from any distractions.
She smelled like vanilla and chocolate.
Soft. Sweet. Mine.
The second I put her down, I spun her around and shoved her back against the wall.
Her wide, shocked eyes met mine.
I could feel my pulse hammering against my skull, my breath ragged, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
She was fucking mine.
And yet, here she was, letting another man touch what belonged to me.
Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but I didn't give her the chance.
I crushed my mouth onto hers.
Not a kiss.
Not something soft or tender.
This was a punishment.
A fucking claim.
My hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as I deepened the kiss, making sure she felt it—felt me.
She gasped, gripping my jacket, her fingers fisting the fabric like she needed to hold on.
Good.
Because I wasn't letting her go.
I finally pulled back, breathing hard, my forehead resting against hers.
Her lips were swollen. Her breath shaky.
I cupped her face, my thumb brushing against her lower lip. My jaw was so tight it fucking ached, but I didn't care.
My eyes locked onto hers, my voice low, rough, and final.
"YOU ARE MINE GET THIS IN YOUR BRAIN..
YOU ARE FUVKING MINE JAANA."
I didn't wait for a response.
I took her lips again, sealing my fucking vow with another deep, possessive kiss.
"Shivansh?!" she breathed, eyes wide in shock.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" My voice was low, dangerous. "You disappear, ignore my calls, and then I find you laughing with some guy? Letting him kiss you?"
She blinked, utterly confused. "What? What are you—"
"Don't even try, Isha," I cut her off, stepping closer. "You don't answer my calls, you vanish from your office, and then I see you smiling at some random man?"
Her confusion turned into anger. "Excuse me? What random man?"
"The one who just kissed your forehead," I gritted out, my hands tightening against the wall beside her.
For a second, she just stared at me. Then, to my utter disbelief, she burst out laughing.
I stared at her in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Shivansh, that was Ishika's brother."
I froze.
"What?"
"Ishika's brother, he is Ritvik bhaiya" she repeated slowly, emphasizing each word. "He was out of indian since our roka. I was meeting him after so long. And i was angry with him and he was apologize, That's why I was with him."
I ran a hand through my hair, realization hitting me like a truck. Shit.
Still, my ego refused to let go completely. "Then why the hell didn't you answer my calls?"
She sighed, looking away. "My phone was on silent."
I exhaled sharply. "And last night?"
She bit her lip, hesitating. Then, in a small voice, she muttered, "I was on my period."
I blinked. "What?"
"I wasn't in the mood to talk, okay? I was irritated, tired, and just wanted to rest."
For the first time since this whole ordeal began, guilt replaced my anger.
"Isha…" My voice softened.
She huffed, crossing her arms. "But no, Mr. Overdramatic King has to fly to Delhi, stalk me, and accuse me of having an affair."
I sighed and closed the remaining distance between us, tilting her chin up gently. "I overreacted."
"Clearly."
I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead—the same way Ishika's brother had, except this one was mine.
"You scared the hell out of me," I admitted.
She smiled a little, finally looking at me properly. "Now you know how I feel when you skip your meals and don't answer my calls."
I smirked. "Point taken."
Then, without another word, I kissed her. A slow, deep kiss filled with every ounce of frustration, longing, and relief I had felt in the last 24 hours. She melted into me, her arms wrapping around my neck, her fingers threading through my hair.
This. This was where she belonged. Where we belonged.
And next time, I wouldn't let my insecurities blind me.
After that intense confrontation, I wasn't ready to let her go just yet. I had spent the past few hours chasing her, worrying, and losing my mind over a misunderstanding. Now, I just wanted to be alone with her, to have her in a space where no one else existed—just the two of us.
But I wasn't taking her to my palace. That was too far. And right now, I wanted her close. So instead, I took her to my penthouse.
The Penthouse
The ride was silent, but not in an awkward way. She leaned against the window, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the glass. Every once in a while, she'd glance at me, her lips pressing together as if holding back a smile.
When we arrived, she raised a brow. "Your penthouse? Not your grand palace?"
I smirked, unlocking the door. "first that's ours and that's too far. And right now, I want you here."
The moment we stepped inside, she exhaled softly, taking in the modern yet cozy space. The city lights stretched far beyond the glass walls, the soft glow from the fireplace adding warmth to the otherwise dark interior.
"Wow," she whispered, walking towards the balcony.
I followed her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. "Better?"
She hummed, leaning into me. "Better."
For a while, we stood there, just breathing in the moment. Then, I turned her around to face me.
"I was really about to kill someone today," I muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She chuckled. "I noticed."
"You could've at least texted."
"My phone was on silent," she defended, rolling her eyes.
"Still."
She sighed, placing her hands on my chest. "Okay, I'll try to remember next time."
"Good." I tilted her chin up, searching her eyes before lowering my lips onto hers. Unlike the earlier kiss, this one was slow, unhurried, as if making up for the time we had lost.
She melted into me, her fingers gripping my shirt. I deepened the kiss, my arms tightening around her. Nothing else mattered in that moment—not the chaos of the day, not my overreaction—just her.
After spending time together at the penthouse, she suddenly looked at me, her eyes thoughtful.
"I want to take you somewhere," she said.
I frowned. "Where?"
"My house," she said simply. "I want you to meet someone."
I wasn't expecting that.
She must have sensed my hesitation because she rolled her eyes. "Relax, it's just Ishika's brother, Ritvik bhaiya. He just got back after nine months, and we're having dinner together."
"Ishika's brother?" I repeated, remembering the man from earlier.
"Yes, and before you get jealous again—" she poked my chest, "—he thinks of me as a sister too. Just like Ishika."
I scoffed. "I wasn't jealous."
She gave me a knowing look.
"…Fine. Maybe a little."
She smirked. "Good. Now come on."
Walking into Isha's house felt strange. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made my chest tighten slightly. It was homely, warm, filled with the scent of something delicious cooking.
Walking into Isha's house was a different kind of experience. It wasn't grand like the palace, but it had something even rarer—warmth. The kind of warmth that made you belong.
I greeted her parents with a polite nod and a small smile. "Good evening, Uncle, Aunty."
Uncle smiled back, but his eyes were sharp, scanning me like he was trying to figure out what exactly I was doing here. Aunty, on the other hand, had a knowing look, like she could see something even Isha couldn't.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Isha took me to the living area where the youngsters were gathered.
Ishika was sitting with Arjun, laughing at something on his phone. And then there was another guy—someone I had never seen before. He sat beside Isha, his body language relaxed, completely at ease with her.
Isha turned toward me, a soft smile on her lips. "Shivansh, meet Ritwik bhaiya," she said. "Ishika's brother."
So this was the guy she was with earlier. The one she was laughing with. The one who kissed her forehead.
I forced my muscles to relax, offering him a curt nod. "Shivansh."
Ritwik grinned, standing up and extending his hand. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."
I shook his hand, firm and controlled. "Same here."
Isha narrowed her eyes at Ritwik. "What do you mean by that?"
Ritwik smirked, glancing between the two of us. "Oh, nothing. Just that someone talks about a certain king more than she realizes."
Isha gasped, her cheeks turning red. "I do not."
Arjun snickered, Ishika giggled, and I just raised an eyebrow, amused.
Before Isha could argue further, her mother's voice called from the kitchen, "Isha, call everyone for dinner!"
She exhaled, giving Ritwik one last glare before turning to us. "Come on, dinner is ready."
He smirked. "Well, I should warn you. Isha is like a little sister to me. So if you ever—"
I raised a brow. "You don't need to finish that sentence."
He laughed. "I like this guy."
We all walked to the dining table, settling into our seats. The table was filled with home-cooked food, and the aroma itself felt comforting.
As we ate, the conversation flowed easily—mostly Ishika and Arjun teasing Isha about random things, Ritwik throwing in sarcastic comments, and me just watching it all unfold.
At some point, Uncle cleared his throat, looking at me. "So, Shivansh, what brings you here so suddenly?"
I knew this question would come. I picked up my glass of water, taking a measured sip before answering, "There was some work I had to handle, so I flew down."
Isha's father nodded, but the glint in his eyes told me he didn't believe a word of it.
"Just for work?" Ishika chimed in, smirking. "Nothing else?"
Isha coughed, nearly choking on her food. "Ishika!"
Ritwik chuckled. "Yeah, I mean, a king flying all the way here just for work? Seems a little suspicious."
I leaned back in my chair, meeting their amused gazes. "If I say yes, will you all believe me?"
"No," they all said in unison.
Isha groaned, covering her face with her hands.
Dinner continued with light teasing, laughter, and occasional glances between me and Isha that held more meaning than words could convey.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something I never expected—at home.
Dinner was surprisingly enjoyable. Isha looked relaxed, laughing and talking animatedly. Watching her like this, in her element, with her people, made something settle inside me.
Halfway through, she placed her hand on my thigh under the table, squeezing lightly. I glanced at her, and she just smiled.
And just like that, all my previous frustrations faded.
She was here. With me.
And that was all that mattered.
After dinner, I insisted isha on driving me back to the penthouse. She didn't argue. I wanted more time with her, and judging by the way she kept stealing glances at me, she wanted the same.
As soon as we stepped inside, I shut the door behind us and pulled her close. Her breath hitched as I tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze to meet mine.
"You know…" I murmured, running my thumb across her bottom lip, "…I think I have a problem."
She blinked. "What problem?"
I smirked, my voice dropping lower. "I think I'm addicted."
Her brows furrowed. "Addicted to what?"
My grip on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against me. "Your lips."
Her breath stuttered, her cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink. Before she could say anything, I closed the distance between us, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss.
She gasped against my mouth, but I swallowed the sound, tilting her head for better access. I wasn't gentle this time. I kissed her like I had been starving, like I needed to make up for every second she had ignored me today.
She responded just as fiercely, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pressed closer. I groaned, gripping the back of her neck as I deepened the kiss, tasting her, losing myself in her.
By the time we pulled away, she was breathless, her lips swollen and her eyes dazed.
"You…" she exhaled, staring at me like she wasn't sure what just happened.
I smirked. "Me?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips.
Still not letting go, I wrapped my arms around her and led her to the balcony. The city stretched before us, the lights twinkling like scattered diamonds against the dark sky.
She sighed in contentment, resting her head against my chest.
Without thinking, I lifted her onto my lap, holding her securely in my arms. She stiffened for a moment before melting against me, her fingers tracing absent patterns on my arm.
For a while, we sat there in silence—her looking at the view, me looking at her.
Because honestly, no city lights, no breathtaking skyline could ever compare to the sight of her in my arms.
The moment was peaceful. Isha was resting on my lap, my arms wrapped securely around her as we sat on the balcony, soaking in the silence of the night. She traced slow patterns on my hand, her warm breath tickling my neck.
But then—RING RING.
I ignored it. Whoever it was could wait.
But then it rang again.
Isha sighed, lifting her head. "Check who it is."
I pulled out my phone and glanced at the screen. My jaw clenched. Maa.
Isha noticed my hesitation. "Answer it," she said, nudging me. "Put it on speaker."
I groaned but did as she said.
"Hello?"
"Shiv, where are you?" Maa's voice came through the speaker. "You left in such a hurry. Didn't even tell me when you'd be back."
Before I could answer, Isha grinned and jumped in. "Maa sa, why do you sound upset? He's here, safe and sound."
There was a pause. Then—"Isha? Beta, you're there?"
Isha giggled. "Yes, Maa sa. He came all the way here just to scold me for ignoring his calls."
"Hmph! Serves him right," Maa huffed. "But Shivansh, when are you coming back?"
"Not tonight," I answered.
"Why not?" Maa pressed.
Before I could come up with a good response, Isha spoke again. "Because he's holding me hostage, Maa sa. He's refusing to let me leave."
Maa chuckled. "Oh, really?"
"Yes!" Isha pretended to complain. "He even said I have to stay the night."
"Well, good," Maa said, making me smirk. "At least now he won't be alone."
Isha pouted at me while I shot her a victorious look.
After a few more minutes of chatting, Maa finally let us go.
As soon as the call ended, Isha stretched and stood up. "Okay, I should go now."
I leaned back against the chair, crossing my arms. "No, you're staying here tonight."
She blinked. "Ansh—"
"I'll drop you in the morning," I cut her off, standing up and pulling her close. "It's late, and I don't want you driving alone."
She hesitated but then sighed. "Fine. But I don't have clothes."
I smirked. "That's easy." I walked to my closet, grabbed one of my oversized shirts and a pair of shorts, and handed them to her.
She looked at them, then at me. "Seriously?"
I shrugged. "It's either this or nothing."
She huffed, snatched them from my hands, and walked to the bathroom. "Pervert."
I chuckled.
When she came out, dressed in my clothes, I couldn't look away. The shirt was huge on her, hanging loosely off one shoulder, the shorts barely visible beneath the hem.
I swallowed. Damn.
She climbed into bed, curling up under the sheets. I slid in beside her, pulling her close.
At first, she was restless, shifting slightly as if trying to find the right position. But soon, she settled against me, her breath evening out, her body melting into mine.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the night lamp casting warm shadows on the walls. Isha lay against my chest, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on my arm as I held her close. Her scent—jasmine with a hint of something uniquely her—was intoxicating.
Neither of us spoke for a while. There was something peaceful about just being in each other's presence. The silence wasn't awkward; it was comfortable.
"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?" she finally murmured, her voice drowsy but curious.
I smirked, brushing my lips against the top of her head. "Like this? As in, you in my arms, refusing to move?"
She scoffed, lightly slapping my chest. "I'm not refusing! I'm just… comfortable."
I chuckled. "So you like being in my arms, huh?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she shifted, resting her chin on my chest and looking up at me. "Sometimes, you're unbearable," she said. "And sometimes…"
I raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes?"
She hesitated before whispering, "…you make me feel safe."
For a second, I didn't say anything. I wasn't expecting that.
I tightened my arms around her. "You are safe, Isha," I said, my voice softer than usual. "With me."
Her lips curled into a faint smile before she let her head fall back against my chest.
A few more minutes passed in silence before she asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
I ran my fingers through her hair, letting my hand rest at the nape of her neck. "Just thinking."
"About?"
I smirked. "How beautiful my Jaana looks when she's sleepy."
She groaned, burying her face in my shirt. "Shut up, Shivansh."
I laughed, holding her tighter. "Fine. Sleep, love."
And with that, she drifted off in my arms while I lay awake, staring at her. Because no matter how much she denied it, she was mine.
I watched her, mesmerized. The way her lashes fluttered, the way her lips parted slightly in sleep—she was beautiful. Peaceful.
I brushed a soft kiss against her forehead. Then another.
And maybe, just maybe, one against her lips.
With this I also slept peaceful in her arms.
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