His Unexpected Love ~ A saga of love and betrayal

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Isha's POV

I don't know how long we stood there.

His arms around me.

My cheek against his chest.

The breeze playing with the ends of my hair.

His heartbeat loud enough to silence the storm in me.

It should've been overwhelming.

But it wasn't.

It felt... calm.

And I hated how much I needed it.

Later that evening, everyone was getting ready for a family dinner outside. Some royal restaurant that Aviyansh had booked. Everyone was buzzing around in excitement.

Except me.

Because my heart? My stupid heart was too busy replaying every second of this morning. Every time his fingers touched my skin by accident... every time our eyes met... every time I caught myself staring at his lips and hating myself for wanting to kiss him again.

"Isha?" Prisha peeked into my room. "You ready?"

"Almost," I replied, standing in front of the mirror, brushing down the soft creases in my pale blue dress.

"You look like someone who's about to commit a sin," she teased.

I gave her a deadpan look. "Because I feel like it."

She laughed, then came up behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder. "You've changed, you know?"

I raised a brow.

"Since him. You've become... softer. Still stubborn. Still chaos. But there's a softness in you now."

I didn't respond. Because I knew it was true.

But more than softness... there was surrender.

And it scared me.

We arrived at the restaurant. Beautifully lit with hanging fairy lights, a live sitar player playing soft music in the corner, and long white curtains dancing gently with the air. Everyone chose a large table in the corner-our royal mess of a family.

I sat beside Ishika. He sat opposite me. Of course.

And the worst part? He knew I was watching him.

That stupid smirk on his lips every time I tried to look away.

That intense gaze he wouldn't hide when I caught him staring.

And God, those sleeves rolled up... it wasn't fair.

"I needed to go washroom," I muttered and stood up.

"I'll come," he said, casually, already getting up.

I spun. "No. Sit."

He tilted his head. "Didn't know you were giving orders now."

"I always was. You just started listening late."

He laughed under his breath. "Fiery."

And of course, he still followed me anyway.

We ended up near a quieter section of the restaurant, away from the others. I stood by a marble pillar, trying to calm my racing heart, while he walked slowly behind me, hands in pockets like he had all the time in the world.

"You're avoiding me again," he said, voice lower now.

I crossed my arms. "Maybe I just like my peace."

"Then you shouldn't have let me kiss you."

I turned to face him. "You already kissed me."

"You kissed me back."

I opened my mouth to argue.

Then closed it.

"Exactly," he whispered, stepping closer.

I looked up at him. "You think you've won, don't you?"

He smirked. "I haven't even started playing yet."

And just like that-his hand lifted slowly. Softly. Fingertips brushing the side of my cheek. Not claiming. Just asking. Always asking.

"Isha," he murmured, "why are you so scared of this?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

I swallowed.

And he saw it.

"What are you scared of?" he asked again, his voice softer now. "That I'll hurt you?"

"No," I whispered. "That I'll fall."

His expression changed then-like I just said something sacred.

"Then fall," he said. "I'll catch you every time."

And before I could stop myself-before logic could interfere-my hands reached up and clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him close. My forehead rested against his.

And in that quiet moment, with soft lights glowing around us, his arms wrapped around my waist.

He held me like I was breakable.

And yet, like he never wanted to let go.

"I don't know what this is," I whispered. "But I don't want to lose it."

"You won't," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

I tilted my head back slightly, my eyes searching his.

"You always know where to find me."

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Even if you run across the country, I'll find you. Even if you hide in a crowd, I'll feel you."

I laughed softly. "You're cheesy."

"You're mine."

And just like that, he leaned in again. His lips brushing gently against mine. Not rushed. Not demanding.

Just soft.

Warm.

Familiar.

Like home.

We returned to the table after a while-his hand grazing mine every few steps, as if grounding me.

No one said anything, but I saw the look on Prisha's face. That tiny grin that screamed finally.

We returned to the table after a while-his hand brushing against mine every now and then, subtle, quiet, but full of a promise.

No one asked where we'd been.

But Prisha's knowing glance said enough. That little smirk of hers when she looked between us was loud enough to make my cheeks burn.

I took my seat beside Ishika again, but before I could pick up my fork, he picked up a spoon instead.

And scooped up a bite of paneer and butter naan.

"I'm not hungry," I murmured, eyes low.

"You weren't listening either," he said calmly, holding the spoon toward me.

I looked up at him slowly.

There it was-that quiet challenge in his eyes, the kind that made my heart race.

"I can eat on my own," I whispered.

"I know," he replied. "But tonight... let me feed you."

My lips parted, but no words came out. And somewhere, in all the clinking cutlery and quiet music and soft murmurs of conversation, I leaned forward and took the bite.

And God... I didn't realize I was starving.

Not for food.

For this.

For him.

He kept feeding me a few more bites, as if he wanted to remind me-he saw me. Not just the strong, chaotic, sarcastic version I gave to the world... but this side too. The one that trembled sometimes. The one that felt too much. The one that was scared of love.

And then-when I couldn't avoid his eyes anymore-he leaned in and whispered low enough only for me to hear:

"That kiss... it wasn't just a kiss, Isha."

I looked at him slowly.

His voice was barely above a breath. "It was a promise."

My throat tightened.

"I wasn't trying to steal something from you," he continued. "I was trying to give you something you don't even know you deserve."

My heart skipped.

"What's that?" I asked softly.

His eyes searched mine.

"Someone who'll never ask you to hide again."

And just like that... the memory of his lips on mine returned with a force.

The way he kissed me earlier... it wasn't rushed. It wasn't to prove a point.

It was careful.

It was vulnerable.

It was slow, like he wanted to memorize the shape of my mouth. The tremble in my breath. The moment my fingers gripped his shirt like I couldn't stand steady anymore.

It wasn't just desire. It was... depth.

That kind of kiss you don't forget.

That kind of kiss that lingers on your skin long after it's over.

And I knew-I absolutely knew-I was in trouble.

Because if this man ever left... I'd never be whole again.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of food, laughter, jokes. But the whole time, I could feel him beside me.

And every time our eyes met...

I saw it.

That look that said-

This isn't just a moment.

This is the beginning of something real.

The penthouse door clicked open with a soft thud, and within seconds, everyone stormed in like they were on some mission.

Laughter echoed through the marble-floored living area as we kicked off our shoes and dropped onto the oversized sofas like exhausted kids returning from a school trip.

"I swear," Ritwik bhaiya groaned dramatically, "if I eat one more croissant, I'll roll down the Eiffel Tower instead of walking."

"You already roll," Prisha teased, flopping beside him and nudging his arm. "And don't blame the poor croissants. You had eight."

"That's because he's storing for winter," Ranveer added with a smirk.

Everyone burst into laughter.

I dropped my purse on the counter and turned toward the center of the room, grinning. The night had been slow and silly, filled with food, banter, and an occasional accidental shoulder bump from Shivansh-accidental, of course, but still enough to make my heart jolt.

"Okay," I said, grabbing my laptop and plopping onto the carpeted floor, crossing my legs. "We've done everything except the one most important thing."

"What?" Ishika asked, raising a brow as she pulled her hair into a messy bun.

"Calling our parents." I held up the laptop like it was some sacred object. "Come on. Time to show them that we're still alive."

"Oh god," Arav laughed, "My mom's going to ask why I haven't messaged her since morning."

I clicked the screen and dialed my parents first.

They answered instantly.

"Areee Isha!" Papa's voice came out warm and echoing. "Where have you been? We were starting to think you forgot us."

I grinned. "Papa, we didn't forget you. We've just been... eating and sleeping. And then eating again."

Mummy chuckled in the background. "Sounds like a perfect vacation."

"Exactly. I think I've gained at least two kilos," I groaned, dramatically holding my stomach, making everyone laugh.

I turned the screen to show the group, and everyone waved.

"Namaste, uncle and aunty!" they chorused.

Papa laughed. "Look at all of you, my god. Are you sure you're in Paris and not in some food rehabilitation center?"

Everyone cracked up.

After some more teasing and "beta khana time par khana" instructions from Mummy, I said my goodbyes, promising another call the next day.

The call ended, and I sighed. "Okay. Now round two."

I clicked to call Shivansh's parents next. I didn't even look at him-I knew he was watching me.

They answered after a few seconds. Shivansh's mother appeared first, her face instantly softening.

"Isha beta!" she smiled, and then spotted Shivansh behind me. "Shivansh! Finally showing your face."

"Because he's been busy fooling everyone," I quipped quickly, grinning.

"Oh, has he?" his mother laughed.

"Very," I nodded seriously. "Teasing me non-stop, making weird faces at restaurants, acting like he didn't know me in public..."

"Wow," Aarav added from the side, "tell them how he left you with the bill too."

Shivansh rolled his eyes but smirked, clearly loving the attention.

"Beta," his mother said sweetly, "you're doing good. Keep him grounded. Otherwise, he forgets who's boss."

Everyone chuckled again.

We chatted for a few more minutes before ending the call. Then slowly, the conversation turned lazy. Some were lounging on the floor, others half-sleeping on cushions.

"Okay, now what?" Aviyansh asked, stretching like a cat. "No movies, please. I'll sleep."

"No dumb charades either," Dhruv bhaiya said. "I still haven't recovered from last night's 'banana spaceship' clue."

"Ew, don't remind me," Ishika gagged.

"We could go to sleep," Prisha suggested.

A silence fell for two seconds.

"No."

"Nope."

"Too boring."

"Sleep is for tomorrow."

"Rejected."

I looked around, then suddenly perked up. "Okay, idea. Why don't we play... hide-and-seek?"

Everyone stared at me.

"In this house?" Aarav asked, raising a brow.

"Yes! It's huge. Three floors, massive rooms, two staircases... it's perfect!"

Ranveer's eyes gleamed. "Okay, that sounds fun."

"But who'll be the seeker?" Aviyansh asked.

"I'll decide that," I said mischievously, standing up and brushing imaginary dust from my jeans. "Inky pinky ponky style."

Everyone groaned in playful protest, but the idea had caught fire.

The living room came alive again, everyone already looking around, mentally deciding hiding spots and chuckling to themselves.

And in that second, I glanced at Shivansh.

He was already watching me.

And somehow, his one look said: This night just got interesting.

"Dhruv bhaiyu, you're the seeker," I announced with a wicked grin.

"What? Why me?" he groaned, sitting up like I'd just declared war.

"Because the 'Inky Pinky Ponky' gods chose you," I replied, doing a dramatic bow.

"Yeah, yeah. You all just want revenge because I scared everyone yesterday with that ghost story," he muttered.

"Exactly," Shivansh said, smirking as he lazily stretched beside me, "karma."

"Fine. But I swear, when I find you all, I'm throwing someone off the balcony," Dhruv bhaiyu said as he stood, facing the wall with his eyes closed. "Count to fifty?"

"Sixty!" Arjun shouted from the kitchen, already tiptoeing away.

Everyone scattered in different directions, squealing and giggling like we were kids again. The house was silent, except for the soft thuds of our feet and the occasional muffled laughter.

I ran up the staircase toward the first floor, my bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden steps. I had no idea where to hide-I just knew I had to avoid being caught first. The living area was too obvious, and the kitchen was risky. I saw someone dart into the laundry room, but I couldn't tell who.

I turned left, toward the guest room... but suddenly, an arm pulled me gently into a dim corridor and I gasped.

Shivansh.

"Shhh..." he whispered, finger pressed to my lips, eyes twinkling.

My heart jumped into my throat. "You scared me!" I hissed in a low voice.

His hand moved to the wall beside me, caging me in with a smile that could melt glaciers. "Scaring you is my new favorite hobby."

"Oh really?" I whispered back, trying to sound annoyed... and failing terribly.

"Mhmm. You look cute when you panic."

Before I could reply, he leaned in a little closer-his breath fanning across my cheek-and I instinctively pressed my back to the wall, trying to keep quiet.

We heard footsteps.

Dhruv bhaiyu.

Shivansh didn't move. If anything, he leaned in even closer, our bodies almost touching. I could barely breathe. His arm slid around my waist slowly and I froze-half in alarm, half in thrill.

He leaned down to whisper against my ear, "Don't look so scared. Unless you want me to really give you a reason to run."

I narrowed my eyes at him, cheeks burning, but his grin only widened.

Just then, Dhruv's bhaiyu voice echoed down the hall, "I know someone is up here!"

Shivansh pulled me further back into the little alcove, completely shielding me from sight. My back hit the wall, and I let out a tiny gasp.

He looked at me, dead serious for a second. "Don't make a sound."

I nodded, biting my lip-and regretted it instantly when his eyes dropped to my mouth. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a butter knife.

"Found someone!" Dhruv bhaiyu suddenly shouted from another room. It was followed by groaning and laughter. Sounded like he caught Arjun.

I released the breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

Shivansh didn't move.

"You can let go now," I whispered.

"I could," he murmured, inching closer, "but why would I?"

I blinked up at him, and my brain short-circuited. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to step away or kiss me. Probably both. Probably neither. I was doomed.

Before anything could happen, I shoved him gently, slipping away while he chuckled quietly behind me.

I needed a new hiding spot. This corridor was dangerous.

I tiptoed to the upper floor. Just as I peeked over the railing, I caught sight of something... or someone.

Arav and Prisha.

Hidden behind one of the tall curtains on the first floor, almost too close. Prisha's hand was on his chest, and they were whispering something. His face was tilted down-lips just inches from hers. Her eyes fluttered shut.

I blinked, then immediately looked away.

Oof.

I ducked into a bedroom, still reeling from what I saw.

Just as I slid under the bed, trying not to laugh at the drama of this entire night, I heard voices again.

Whispers. Giggles.

From the balcony on the second floor.

I peeped from behind the curtain and caught another couple. Aviyansh and Ishika. They were leaning against the railing, fingers loosely intertwined. She was whispering something, and he pulled her a little closer.

Okay. What was in the Paris air tonight?

I shook my head and laughed silently.

Then-

"Gotcha!" A loud voice came from behind me and I screamed.

Dhruv bhaiyu

He looked smug as hell.

"You're OUT," he sang.

I groaned, crawling out from under the bed. "Fine. Next round, I'm getting my revenge."

As we walked downstairs together, I saw Shivansh leaning against the kitchen island, drinking water. His eyes locked with mine instantly. And for one second, the entire noisy, giggly group faded away.

Because even without saying a word, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

This hide-and-seek game wasn't over. Not even close.

"You're next, madam," Dhruv said with a smug grin, flopping onto the bean bag and tossing a pillow at me.

"Nooo," I whined dramatically, "Why always me, didn't you out Arjun first?"

"Because you screamed like a bandriya when I found you. That's punishment-worthy," he replied, smirking.

Everyone laughed as I stood in the center of the living room and faced the wall. "Fine. I'll find each of you and make you regret ever laughing."

"Such threats," Shivansh muttered near my ear as he walked past me, "let's see if you're as scary as you pretend to be."

I ignored him and started counting loudly. "One... two... three..."

By the time I reached sixty, the entire house had gone still again. I turned slowly and smirked to myself.

Game on.

I started from the ground floor, tiptoeing past the long hallway and dimly lit corners. I peeked behind the curtains-empty. Behind the couch-nothing. The kitchen was suspiciously clean too.

Where were they hiding?

I headed upstairs.

The first floor was quiet, but I knew better than to trust the silence. I peeked into the guest room, only to find it dark and empty. The wardrobe creaked slightly-maybe someone was inside. I inched closer, heart racing, and flung it open.

Blankets.

Ugh.

I turned to leave, and that's when I heard it.

A soft shuffle. Footsteps.

I quickly turned and followed the sound, tiptoeing down the corridor. The bathroom door creaked just slightly open. A shadow moved.

Caught.

I flung the door open dramatically-"Aha!"

And there he was.

Shivansh.

His expression was priceless-half surprised, half annoyed. "Seriously? I just got here."

"You're the first one I caught," I said smugly, crossing my arms.

He leaned against the bathroom wall, arms folded. "Congratulations. Now what? You gonna drag me downstairs in handcuffs?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't tempt me."

He took a step closer. "What if I make a run for it?"

"Then I'll chase you."

His smirk deepened, eyes glinting under the soft corridor light. "And what if I let you catch me... on purpose?"

I swallowed hard.

This was a game of hide-and-seek, not flirt-and-fall, but someone clearly didn't get the memo.

"I already caught you," I whispered, suddenly aware of how close we were standing.

"And what do I win?" he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Nothing," I replied, voice slightly shaky.

He leaned in, lips hovering dangerously close to mine. "That's unfair."

"You weren't playing fair either," I breathed, hands brushing his chest when I tried to push him away-but he didn't budge.

"I never do," he whispered, the air between us heavy with electricity.

Then-softly, without rushing-he leaned in and kissed me.

It wasn't wild or desperate. It was slow, almost as if he were afraid I'd disappear.

And for the first time in days, I forgot about games, rooms, and the entire world outside.

Just me. Just him.

When we finally pulled apart, I stared at him in shock.

"I caught you," I whispered, cheeks burning.

He smiled lazily. "And I surrendered."

Just then-

"Did you find anyone yet, Isha?" Aarav's voice echoed from below.

I gasped and shoved Shivansh aside. "Shut up! Someone will see us!"

"Relax," he said, amused. "You've already won. Now go catch the rest."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm watching you."

He winked. "I'm counting on it."

As I tiptoed away to continue the game, I couldn't help but smile.

Maybe I was the seeker... but tonight, I was the one who got found.

After I caught Shivansh, we decided to turn the game into a joint mission-Team "Love Seeker" as he called it. I rolled my eyes but secretly? I liked the idea of searching together.

I took his hand as we tiptoed across the second floor.

"Okay, rule number one," I whispered. "No getting distracted this time."

Shivansh gave me a mock innocent look. "I never get distracted. I just... admire the view."

I glared at him.

"Of the house," he added quickly, smirking.

We started opening closets and checking under beds, behind curtains, in nooks that even spiders probably avoided. "They've really gotten smart," I muttered, brushing my hair back. "This house has like a million hiding spots."

"Not smarter than us," he winked.

Just as we turned the corner of the staircase, we heard a sneeze.

"Bless you," Shivansh said loudly, and a groan followed from under the sofa on the ground floor.

Ritwik bhaiya crawled out with a sheepish grin. "Dust. I underestimated the power of allergies."

"One down," I said proudly, giving him a playful smack on the arm. "Go sit with Dhruv."

We continued the search.

As we reached the back guest room, Shivansh paused. "Wait... did you hear that?"

"No-what?"

"Shh!" he put a finger on my lips, making my heart flutter for a second.

Then I heard it too-giggling.

He turned the handle and threw the door open dramatically.

And there they were.

Aarav and Prisha.

Prisha was sitting on the window ledge, Aarav standing very close, their faces inches apart, both clearly startled like deer caught in headlights.

I blinked. "Wow."

"Oh," Shivansh said with an amused grin, "looks like someone was about to start a new game."

Prisha flushed, covering her face. "We were just talking!"

"Sure," I teased, "talking with your eyes closed and lips practically touching. Very spiritual."

Aarav laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "Okay okay, we surrender. You caught us."

"Go join Dhruv and Itwik," I said, still laughing.

Shivansh nudged me. "Love really is in the air, huh?"

"Maybe you're just seeing what you want to see," I whispered with a teasing smile, and we moved on.

Next up was the first floor balcony.

As we quietly stepped out, I stopped.

And stared.

Aviyansh and Ishika.

He had her hand in his, whispering something close to her ear. Her smile was shy, and she kept brushing his shoulder as if pretending not to notice how close they were standing.

Shivansh and I exchanged a look.

"I'm starting to think we accidentally organized a couple's retreat," he said.

"Should we interrupt?" I asked with a mischievous glint in my eye.

"Naturally."

"Found you two!" I shouted, and Ishika jumped, nearly pushing Avi off the balcony railing. "Don't fall in love too hard, okay?"

Aviyansh gave me a look. "You're one to talk."

I blushed and dragged Shivansh back inside before he could say anything worse.

"We have like... Three people left now," I said, glancing around. "Ranveer, Arjun, and-"

"Wait," Shivansh interrupted. "Did you see that shadow move downstairs?"

I turned sharply. "Come on, soldier. Let's finish this mission."

He offered his hand again, and I took it without thinking twice.

And as we quietly descended the stairs again, searching for the rest of our friends, I realized something.

This wasn't just a game anymore.

It was a memory. One I'd keep with me forever.

"Okay, three to go," I whispered as Shivansh and I crept around the hallway like two amateur detectives.

"Ranveer, Arjun, and Dhruv," he listed on his fingers, "the legends who think they can outsmart us."

"They can try," I grinned. "But they'll fall-like the rest of their kind."

Shivansh gave me a mock salute. "Commander Isha, lead the way."

We searched one of the unused storage rooms. Nothing. Just folded blankets and old decor. The guest library was also clear-except for a falling book that nearly gave me a heart attack. And then...

"Wait," Shivansh said suddenly, holding his arm out to stop me. "Do you smell that?"

"Smell what?"

"Cologne. Way too strong."

I sniffed. "Oh my God. Ranveer bhai sa."

We followed the scent trail straight to a curtain alcove near the pantry. I yanked it back with a victorious "HA!" and there he was-squatting like a guilty cat with his hand over his mouth.

"Not fair!" he groaned, standing up.

"You smelled like a perfume counter, Ranveer bhai sa," I laughed. "I could've found you blindfolded."

He stomped off dramatically toward the living room, muttering something about changing brands.

Two left.

We tiptoed toward the small reading nook on the first floor, near the long window seat.

And I caught a glimpse of a shoe.

"Shivansh!" I whispered sharply, pointing.

He raised a brow. "Shoe alert?"

I crouched quietly and peeked under the window seat.

"ARJUN!" I shouted.

He screamed.

I screamed.

Shivansh started laughing uncontrollably as Arjun stumbled out, hand over his chest.

"Bro!" he gasped. "I thought a ghost found me!"

"Nope," I grinned, "just your friendly neighborhood couple-hunting duo."

"One left," Shivansh said.

Dhruv bhaiyu.

We searched everywhere-seriously. Behind sofas, under tables, in balconies, in the kitchen pantry. Nothing. Until Shivansh opened the main closet near the hallway.

And there he was.

Cuddled under a pile of shawls like a sleeping grandma.

He blinked. "Is the game still on?"

I burst out laughing. "Game over, Dhruv bhaiyu. You've been caught napping."

Soon, we were all gathered in the living area, sprawled over couches, beanbags, and rugs. The excitement of the game was still buzzing in the air.

We were laughing over how Aarav almost fell when caught, how Itwik sneezed himself out, and how Dhruv bhaiyu genuinely forgot he was playing.

I opened my laptop and turned it around. "Guys. I saw something. Twice."

Everyone turned to me.

"I... may have accidentally recorded something."

I clicked play.

The video showed a shaky angle from the guest room-Prisha and Aarav, inches apart, whispering and clearly about to kiss. The whole room howled.

"Areee wah!" Ranveer bhai sa clapped. "Romance level unlocked!"

Prisha hid her face in a pillow. Aarav laughed and patted her back. "You're not denying it, huh?"

"Next," I said, pulling up another clip.

This one? The balcony. Aviyansh gently holding Ishika's hand, whispering something.

"OHHHHH!" the room exploded.

Ishika blushed furiously. "Delete it!"

"No chance," I said proudly. "These are going in the archives."

We kept replaying them, everyone teasing everyone else, screenshots being taken, memes being made right there.

Shivansh leaned in and whispered in my ear, "You're evil... but I'm impressed."

"You should be scared," I whispered back.

"I like danger," he smirked.

After all the teasing and laughter, we finally called it a night. Everyone dragged themselves to their rooms, still giggling, arguing about who hid the best, and planning tomorrow's breakfast.

Shivansh and I quietly slipped into our room.

He locked the door behind him and looked at me with that playful glint still in his eyes.

"Tired?" he asked.

I shook my head, smiling. "Not yet."

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You really enjoyed exposing all those lovers today, huh?"

"I just believe in capturing memories," I said innocently.

He chuckled and leaned in slowly. "Want to make one of our own?"

I reached up, resting my hands on his chest. "What did you have in mind?"

He pulled me close, kissing my forehead first, then my cheek, lingering near my lips.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "A little romance. No cameras. Just us."

And in the soft light of the room, with laughter still echoing faintly through the house, we created a memory of our own-one I'd never dare record.

But it would stay with me. Forever.

The laughter still echoed faintly behind us as we walked hand-in-hand toward our room. Everyone had finally retired for the night, the lights dimmed, the noise fading, but inside me... there was still this rush. A storm that had nothing to do with the games or the teasing.

It had everything to do with the man walking beside me.

Shivansh opened the door for me like he always did, his fingers lingering a little longer on my waist as I passed. I could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of my nightwear. I wasn't even looking at him, but I knew - knew - his eyes were on me.

Hungry. Intense.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, I felt the change. Like the silence between us had a heartbeat.

I turned to speak, maybe joke about Prisha and Aarav, but Shivansh was already stepping closer, his voice low, almost a growl, "You recorded everyone tonight... but who's going to record what you do to me?"

My breath caught.

He wasn't even touching me, not really, but the way he was looking - like I was something forbidden and divine at once - it made my skin burn.

I tried to brush past him with a teasing laugh. "Drama king. You're just mad because you were the first one I caught."

He caught my wrist before I could move further, pulled me just close enough to feel the air between us vanish.

"Not mad," he whispered, brushing his thumb along the inside of my wrist. "Just wondering how long you'll keep pretending you don't want me to kiss you breathless every night."

I swallowed, hard.

His hand moved to my waist slowly, deliberately, resting there - not pushing, just claiming space.

"You're impossible," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"You're addictive," he replied. "And right now, you're wearing the kind of thing that makes me forget every rule I've ever followed."

I blushed. Fiercely. It wasn't even that scandalous - just soft cotton shorts and one of his oversized shirts - but the way he was looking at me made it feel like silk and lace.

"You said no touching," I mumbled.

He smiled. "I said no uninvited touching."

And then he stepped back, just a little, giving me space... but his eyes never left mine. "You look like trouble tonight."

I tilted my head, challenging. "And what if I am?"

He closed the distance again, brushing his lips just over my cheekbone - not kissing, just hovering. "Then I'll gladly spend the rest of the night getting in trouble with you."

God. He was dangerous.

We ended up on the bed, not tangled in sheets, but in each other - lying close, our legs brushing, faces only inches apart. He traced circles on my palm with his finger, his other hand tucked behind his head, completely at ease. But I could feel it - the tension, the thrill, the need that danced between us in sparks.

"Tell me something, Isha," he murmured, "Do you ever imagine what would've happened if I kissed you that night at your office? The first time?"

I turned, my breath shaky. "Every single time I close my eyes."

And that smile he gave me - wicked, knowing, soft - it stole my sleep more than any nightmare ever could.

We didn't need anything more tonight.

This fire, this tension - this was enough to set the whole night alight.

I blinked my eyes open to the soft, golden rays slipping through sheer curtains, painting the room in a warm glow. The faint aroma of croissants and coffee from the nearby bakery filtered in through the slightly open window. For a few blissful seconds, I didn't move - just let the moment wrap around me like the soft duvet I was cocooned in.

Then I turned - and there he was.

Shivansh.

Hair a mess. Chest rising slowly. One hand tucked under the pillow, the other loosely wrapped around my waist like it belonged there.

He looked... peaceful. Like Paris had cast a sleepy spell on him too.

But of course, peace and Shivansh don't last long.

I carefully leaned close and whispered near his ear, "Shivansh..."

No response.

"Shivansh," I said again, poking his bare shoulder.

Nothing.

So, naturally, I grabbed the extra pillow and dropped it directly on his face.

He groaned under the weight and turned, now burying his face in the actual pillow.

"You're evil," his muffled voice finally came through.

"Wake up, Your Highness," I said, standing and stretching dramatically near the window. "We have a date with a croissant."

He finally rolled over to look at me. His voice was still sleepy. "If the croissant looks like you, I'm in."

I threw a towel at his face. "Pervert."

"Your fault," he muttered, "for looking this good in my t-shirt."

I looked down and smirked - okay, maybe I did look cute. Oversized white tee. Messy bun. Paris morning glow. Aesthetic much.

After everyone finally got ready - in true chaotic fashion (Prisha broke her eyeliner, Ishika had a meltdown over her flat-ironed hair curling up again, and Arjun tried to sneak out in sliders), we all stepped out.

The air was crisp, sweet, and smelled of butter and blooming flowers. The cobbled street below was just beginning to wake up, bicycles whizzing past, locals chatting softly, and the sky blushing with early morning hues.

We stopped at a little café tucked under a flowering vine-covered wall.

Chalkboard signs listed their specials in messy cursive. The waiter - a charming, older man with a floppy hat - welcomed us with a "Bonjour, mes amis!" that instantly made me confused.

We all picked our spots. Shivansh and I sat side by side at a tiny round table under a bright yellow umbrella.

"Order something very Fresh," I told him, scanning the menu.

He looked up at me with a glint in his eye. "Like... you?"

I gasped. "You're shameless."

He leaned in, speaking low, "And you love it."

I hid my blush behind the menu.

Breakfast came, and it was magic.

Freshly baked croissants that flaked perfectly at the edges. Almond pastries that melted on the tongue. My hot chocolate was thick, dark, and tasted like velvet.

"You know what this needs?" I asked, mid-bite.

He tilted his head. "More sugar?"

I reached across, scooped a bit of the Nutella from his crepe, and smeared it lightly on the edge of his cheek. "You."

He blinked, stunned.

Everyone at the table gasped.

I bit into my croissant smugly. "You started it."

He wiped it with his thumb and smeared it back on my nose.

I shrieked.

"Children," Aviyansh muttered from across the table, rolling his eyes. "We're trying to have a mature breakfast here."

Ishika giggled. "As if you didn't try to bite into ishu's croissant like a wild raccoon."

Arjun raised his coffee. "To dysfunctional couples and flaky croissants."

Everyone cheered. The waiter joined in, "Très bien!"

Next stop: The Eiffel Tower.

And no matter how many times I'd seen it in movies or photos, nothing... absolutely nothing prepared me for the first real look.

We stood across the street, and my breath caught.

It shimmered.

Yes, shimmered - even in daylight. The iron latticework twisted into the sky like art. It was tall and elegant and somehow softer than I imagined.

I didn't speak for a moment. Just stared, letting the beauty settle.

Shivansh stepped beside me and slid his hand into mine.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Overwhelmed," I whispered. "In the best way."

We crossed over and took the elevator up to the second floor. The city stretched below us like a painting. Cream buildings, winding roads, the Seine cutting through like a ribbon. It was unreal.

"Now this is a view," Shivansh said, standing behind me.

"I can't believe we're here," I whispered.

He didn't respond immediately. Just slid his arms around my waist from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder.

"You're my favorite view."

I turned my head slightly. "Are you trying to be romantic or steal my spotlight?"

He smiled against my skin. "Little of both."

We took photos and laughed when Dhruv's bhaiyu cap flew off in the wind, and teased Ishika and Aviyansh for posing like models. At one point, Prisha and Arav were caught slow dancing on the side. Classic.

Before we left, Shivansh took a quiet photo of me standing near the rail, wind playing with my hair.

When I asked to see it, he just shook his head. "Mine."

"Selfish."

"Yours," he replied simply, pulling me close.

After Eiffel Tower's dreamy blur, the ride to Montmartre was like flipping the page of a storybook.

Winding roads. Cobblestone paths. Little shops and art galleries with paintings spilling outside. Musicians strumming guitars on the steps. Flowerpots hanging from windows, and balconies painted in pastel shades.

It didn't feel like Paris anymore.

It felt like poetry.

"This place..." I breathed, as we stepped into the heart of Montmartre. "It smells like inspiration."

"It smells like bread and old books," Ishika corrected.

"Same thing," I shrugged.

We made our way toward the top of the hill, where Sacré-Cœur Basilica stood tall like a fairytale castle. White domes, stained glass, and the view - oh god, the view - even more mesmerizing than before.

And, somehow, even more magical with him beside me.

Shivansh stood with his hands in his pockets, wind ruffling his hair, sunglasses pushed up, quietly observing the city from the top.

I poked him. "Tell me what you're thinking."

He smirked, still not looking at me. "About how easy it'd be to kiss you here."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're unbelievable."

"You asked," he said, finally turning to face me. "And I don't lie."

I rolled my eyes, even as my heart fluttered.

We explored tiny galleries where artists painted live, capturing lovers on benches, rain on rooftops, dancers, dreamers - all of Paris in brushstrokes. One of them even offered to sketch us.

"Us?" I blinked.

"Yeah," Shivansh said. "For your office. Something better than a boring certificate frame."

I flushed.

The man worked fast. I sat beside Shivansh on a small stool while the artist hummed softly, his charcoal gliding across the page. And just for a moment, Shivansh's hand found mine.

Quietly.

Warmly.

Like we were already something real.

Next Stop: Palais Garnier

Because of course Shivansh had to throw in some "grandeur" into our day.

He led us to Palais Garnier, the famed Paris Opera House, and my jaw hit the cobblestone.

Gold. Marble. Chandeliers that looked like frozen fireworks. It was like stepping into a royal ballroom. The walls were covered in dramatic paintings and sculpted angels.

"This feels too fancy," Prisha whispered beside me.

"It feels like I need to whisper," I added.

"You guys look like background characters," Aviyansh called out. "Move, I want a picture of Ishika looking confused."

She threw a scarf at his face.

Inside, Shivansh took my hand and pulled me under a golden arch.

"This," he whispered, looking around, "is where I'd throw a masked ball."

"Oh? Would I be invited?" I teased.

He gave me a look. "You'd be the reason."

And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.

We finally settled into a quaint little bistro tucked between Montmartre streets - called "La Maison Rose", with pink walls and ivy crawling up like lace. Very Instagram. Very romantic.

But of course, the second we sat down, chaos began.

While we girls looked at the menu with confused squints (because Poulet à la Provençale didn't sound like chicken to me), Shivansh, Aviyansh, Ranveer bhai sa, Ritwik bhaiya Arav, and Dhruv started chatting with the waiter - in fluent, silky, effortless French. Even arjun knows rhe fresh.

It was like they were part of another club.

The words rolled off their tongues: "Nous allons prendre le menu du jour...", "Un peu plus de pain, s'il vous plaît", "Avec du fromage, peut-être?"

I blinked. "Wait. What just happened?"

Ishika leaned across. "They're... ordering?"

"No, they're flirting," Prisha added, offended. "That waiter just smiled. Did you see him smile? At Dhruv?"

"They're speaking a whole other language!" I said, turning to Shivansh. "What did you just say?!"

He shrugged innocently. "Just asked for some bread and the daily special."

"And then?"

He leaned in. "Told him your eyes look brighter than the basil on the menu."

I gasped. "Shivansh!"

He grinned. "Relax. I just asked if we could get an extra basket of fries."

"Same thing," I muttered, hiding my smile behind the water glass.

He turned back to the boys, and they kept speaking - fast and fluid - and honestly, it made me feel... left out. Frustrated. Irritated.

I leaned toward him again. "Are you gossiping about us?"

He turned, met my eyes. "Want me to translate?"

I pouted.

He smirked. "Fine. Aviyansh said Ishika's hair looks like a failed croissant. Arav said Prisha's been looking at the dessert menu since we sat down. And dhruv said-wait-he said I should stop staring at your lips."

I choked on my water.

"And what did you say?" I asked, wide-eyed.

Shivansh gave a lazy smile. "I said too late."

"Shivansh!" I hissed, cheeks flaming.

He laughed, reaching under the table to nudge my knee with his. "Tu es belle, mon amour."

I narrowed my eyes. "What does that mean?"

He leaned close. "Google it later. Or let me whisper it to you in your sleep amour."

Warm quiche with caramelized onions, flaky puff pastry with creamy vanilla filling, buttery with fresh herbs, and raspberry tarts so soft they melted before I could chew.

We laughed over spilled water, over Dhruv bhaiyu pronouncing "escargot" as "ice cargo," and Ishika accidentally asking the waiter for "one romantic napkin."

And through it all... Shivansh kept whispering French into my ear like secrets. Translating every joke, every compliment, every sassy waiter remark. Making me feel like I belonged in this world I didn't understand.

Not just belonged - owned it.

With him.

By the time we reached the Louvre Museum, my legs were basically yelling at me to retire, but my heart? My heart was dancing.

The museum was a cozy, quiet space tucked away from Paris's chaos. Filled with icy dioramas, snow sculptures, and stories of Arctic journeys - it smelled like leather books and wood polish.

I don't know how, but Aviyansh and Dhruv bhaiyu suddenly became kids again, posing with fake sleds and pretending to hunt polar bears.

Shivansh, meanwhile, stood near an old explorer's diary encased in glass, one hand tucked in his coat pocket, other tracing invisible thoughts on the glass.

He looked like he belonged there - serious, composed, royal - until I tossed a snowflake keychain at him and he caught it mid-air.

"You'd look cute with this on your car keys," I grinned.

He raised a brow. "You think I'm cute?"

"Not as cute as a penguin but close," I winked.

He smirked. "You'll pay for that tonight."

My cheeks flushed, and I walked away before he could see my grin.

Next stop : Notre-Dame Cathedral.

As we stepped into the grandeur of Notre-Dame, time seemed to pause.

The stone gargoyles. The glasswork that shimmered like fire trapped in art. The silence that echoed louder than words.

It was poetic. Sacred.

We walked around the cathedral garden when suddenly - three boys approached.

French. But English-speaking. Blonde. Handsome. Confident.

"Bonjour, ladies," the tallest one said, eyes crinkling. "You're not from here, right? Tourists?"

I froze, confused.

Ishika giggled nervously. "Uh, yeah?"

"You all look... exquisite," said the second boy, eyes drifting down me. "Especially you. Are you... Indian?"

I raised a brow. "Yes."

"Wow," he smiled, leaning closer. "Exotic."

Before I could respond, another voice - deeper, sharper - cut through the air.

"Elles ne sont pas intéressées."

I turned.

Shivansh. Jaw clenched. Eyes dark.

Beside him, Aviyansh and Arav looked equally deadly.

"What did you say?" the French boy asked, slightly amused.

Shivansh stepped closer. "They're taken," he said coolly. Then repeated it in French - "Elles sont prises."

I'd never seen him so... primal.

The French boys laughed awkwardly and muttered apologies before disappearing.

"Possessive much?" I said, trying to lighten the tension.

Shivansh didn't respond. Just took my hand - tight. Firm. Not letting go.

We picked a cozy Indian restaurant for dinner. The aroma of garam masala, butter chicken, and naan hit us like home.

But the mood?

Tense.

Shivansh barely spoke. Aviyansh kept checking his phone, sipping his water like it was tequila. Arav just ate his food quietly. The others whispered, exchanged glances.

"Someone's in a spicy mood," I teased as I passed Shivansh a plate.

He looked at me. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"What?"

"Those guys. Flirting. Your smile."

I tilted my head, amused. "Are you jealous?"

He leaned in, whispering, "I don't do jealousy."

"Oh no?" I smirked. "Then what's with the 'Elles sont prises' growl?"

He didn't reply.

Just licked masala off his thumb - slowly - eyes locked on mine.

And suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

Back at the penthouse, I changed into an oversized tee and sat near the window, brushing my hair slowly.

The Paris skyline outside sparkled like it was in love. Inside, the air buzzed with something heavier.

Shivansh entered. Closed the door. Locked it.

Not a word.

He walked straight to me, pulled the brush from my hand and tossed it aside. "You really enjoyed being admired, didn't you?"

I blinked. "They were random tourists."

"You smiled," he said, his voice low, rough. "At him. At his accent."

I smirked, playing innocent. "French is sexy."

"I'll show you what's sexier."

He pulled me up in one swift motion, my back hitting the cold glass window. His hands were everywhere and nowhere - gripping my waist, sliding up my spine, claiming me like I was his territory.

"Repeat after me," he murmured against my neck. "Tu es à moi."

I gasped. "What?"

He pressed closer. "Say it."

"T-Tu es à moi."

He kissed me.

Hard.

Hungry.

Like he was burning from the inside out.

"You belong to me," he translated between kisses. "Every laugh. Every look. Every damn heartbeat."

And in that moment, as Paris shimmered outside and his jealousy melted into heat between us - I realized something.

Being wanted felt amazing. But being claimed by him? That was dangerous. Addictive. Unforgettable.

I don't know how long we stood there by the window, his body pressed against mine, heat radiating between us like a second skin. The taste of him still lingered on my lips - cinnamon, tension, and something uniquely his.

But curiosity burned louder than desire for a moment.

I looked up at him, breathless, fingers tangled in his shirt.

"Wait..." I whispered.

He stilled. "Hmm?"

I brushed my thumb along his jaw. "What did you say in French? All day. You spoke in French more than English today - to Avi, to Dhruv, to those boys. I want to know."

His eyes softened. Then darkened again, but this time... with something deeper. Fondness. Mischief.

"You really want to know?" he murmured, nose brushing mine.

I nodded. "I deserve to know. You were practically having secret conversations all day while I stood there like an idiot."

He smirked. "You weren't an idiot. You were... beautiful. And furious. It was entertaining."

"Shivansh," I warned, narrowing my eyes.

"Fine, fine," he chuckled, guiding me to the bed where we both sank slowly, his arms never fully letting me go. "When we were at Montmartre, I said to Dhruv, 'Look at her - like she owns this city.' And Avi replied, 'No, she owns your sanity.'"

I blinked.

He leaned in, voice dropping lower. "Then at lunch, when you asked if I was jealous... I told them in French: 'If another man looks at her like that again, I swear I'll kiss her in front of the entire Eiffel Tower just to stake my claim.'"

My breath hitched.

He grinned lazily. "Then in the evening, when those guys flirted with you, I said, 'Elles sont prises.' It means, They're taken. But what I really whispered to that blond idiot?"

His hand slid around my waist, pulling me even closer.

"I said, Elle est à moi. Ne la regarde même pas."

I swallowed. "And that means?"

His eyes locked on mine, completely unreadable and way too intense. "She's mine. Don't even look at her."

The air stilled.

My heart thudded wildly.

Something inside me cracked - like a flame finally given air.

I reached up and cupped his face, my voice a whisper against his lips. "You could've just told me all this earlier..."

"I like watching you burn," he said softly. "Makes it worth the wait."

And then he kissed me again.

But this time... it was different.

No jealousy.

No tension.

Just... emotion.

His lips brushed mine like poetry. Slow. Lingering. Hungry in a way that wasn't rushed - but certain. Like he was trying to say things with his mouth that his heart still hadn't learned to admit.

I let my fingers slide into his hair, pulling him deeper into me, and he groaned low into my mouth - like he couldn't hold back anymore.

His hands weren't frantic. They explored. Mapped. Memorized.

One curled around my waist, the other cradling the back of my neck like I was the most fragile thing in the world - or the most precious.

Our noses bumped, lips parted, breath caught. Then we kissed again.

And again.

Until the kiss wasn't just a kiss - it was a language.

It was him saying, "You drive me crazy."

And me replying, "You ruin me."

It was him confessing, "I don't want to share you with the world."

And me promising, "You won't have to."

It was messy. Passionate. Soft in places and sinful in others.

He kissed my shoulder. My cheek. My jaw.

Paused.

Then whispered, "You don't even know how much I want you."

I looked up, daring him. "Then show me. But don't ruin me unless you're staying."

His eyes darkened again.

And instead of answering with words...

He kissed me like an answer.

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