Sameera's POV:
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes wasn't the ceiling of my room—it was that dim, empty classroom.
The cold of the metal desk under my palms.
The sound of my own breath, sharp and uneven.
And then… him.
His hands, steady on my shoulders. His voice, low but firm, pulling me back from the edge I hadn't even realized I was dangling over.
I hated it—how I'd felt safe. How the panic had quieted the moment his touch grounded me.
I hated it even more that I kept replaying it like it was some kind of… comfort.
I shook my head, pulling the blanket off me and forcing myself out of bed. I couldn't think about him. Not today. Not when I had more important things to deal with.
By the time I walked into the dining room, Baba was already behind the newspaper and Aai was placing a fresh paratha on my plate.
"Morning," I mumbled, settling into my chair.
"Morning," Baba replied without looking up.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something." I hesitated, idly tearing the paratha. "It's about… shifting to Malad. Just for the final year. Travelling four hours daily is exhausting and I really want to focus more on studies."
Aai's head snapped up. "Shift? Alone? Absolutely not. You've managed three years like this, you can manage one more."
"But—"
"No, Sameera." She folded her arms, the finality in her tone almost sealing the conversation.
Baba lowered the paper, his gaze moving between us. "Let her speak."
I took a deep breath. "It's not just about travel. I'm tired by the time I reach home, I barely get time for assignments. If I stay closer, I can actually study… maybe even get better grades. Please, Baba."
Aai started to protest, but Baba raised his hand. "If she wants to focus, we should let her. It's her final year."
Her expression was reluctant, but she sighed. "Fine. But only if you find a safe place."
Relief washed over me, and I smiled faintly. "Thank you."
Just as I picked up my glass of juice, my phone started buzzing. Once, twice, then non-stop.
I glanced at the screen—Shreya, followed by a flood of messages in our group chat.
Shreya: Weekend plan, madam. No excuses.
Manjiri: After yesterday, you NEED this.
Janhvi: Yeah, don't think you're hiding at home.
I looked up at Aai. "Uh… my friends want to go out today. Just for a while. Can I?"
She gave me a suspicious look. "Where?"
"Somewhere nearby."
Baba smiled faintly. "Go. You deserve a break after the exams."
The moment I stepped out of my building, my phone buzzed again.
Shreya: If you don't come down in the next thirty seconds, I'm honking loud enough for your neighbors to hate you forever.
I barely had time to lock the door before I spotted them—two cars parked by the gate, my friends spilling out like they were late for some celebrity meet-and-greet.
"Finally!" Manjiri groaned, yanking me into a quick hug before pushing me toward the cars.
"I didn't even take that long—" I froze mid-sentence.
Leaning casually against the first car, arms crossed and sunglasses hiding half his face, was him.
Saharsh.
The girls hadn't said a word about him coming.
I turned sharply to Shreya, whispering, "You could've mentioned he'd be here."
She grinned way too innocently. "Oops."
"Oops? Seriously?"
Manjiri looped her arm through mine before I could escape. "Don't think too much. Just get in the car."
"At least tell me where we're going?"
"Nope," they chorused.
Before I could argue, the universe—or my so-called friends—decided to make it worse. Shreya shoved me toward the front passenger seat of the second car. "Sit here."
I stared. "Next to—"
"Yup," she said, already walking away to the other car.
Saharsh glanced at me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, but he didn't say anything.
I got in, muttering under my breath, "This is ridiculous."
Once we were on the road, I tried again. "So… where exactly are we going?"
No response. Not from the backseat, not even from the driver.
I turned to Saharsh. "You at least can tell me—"
"Nope." His lips curved just enough for me to realize he could tell me, but he wouldn't. "They've threatened me."
I huffed and crossed my arms, trying to ignore how close we were in the confined space. His cologne lingered in the air, warm and annoyingly distracting. Every bump in the road made our shoulders brush, and by the time we hit the highway, I'd given up on keeping my distance.
Somewhere between my stubborn silence and the low hum of the car, my eyelids grew heavy.
The last thing I remember was the steady rhythm of the road and the faint warmth of his arm brushing mine.
When I blinked awake, the light was softer, the air warmer. My head was resting on his shoulder, his scent faintly clinging to the hoodie I didn't remember leaning against.
It took me a second to notice the small curve of his arm, blocking the sunlight streaming through the window so it wouldn't fall on my face, but the moment I shifted, I realized his gaze was already on me—steady, unreadable, but with something in it that made my chest tighten.
I straightened instantly. "I—I must've—"
"Yeah," he said quietly, almost like he didn't want to break the moment.
I glanced out the window, the coastline of my memories creeping in with every passing turn.
And then it hit me. "Wait… these roads—"
Saharsh's lips twitched. "Took you long enough."
We were going to Alibaug.
We rolled to a stop outside a stunning two-story beach house, its white walls gleaming under the afternoon sun. The sound of waves was faint but constant, like background music.
I stepped out of the car, my jaw slack. "You guys… booked this?"
The front lawn looked like something straight off Pinterest—plumeria trees swaying in the wind, hammocks strung between them, and a path of smooth stones leading to the main entrance.
Manjiri looped her arm through mine. "Mm-hm. You can thank him for that." She nodded in Saharsh's direction.
I turned sharply. "You?"
He was already unloading bags from the trunk, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, acting like this wasn't a big deal. "Figured you guys would like it."
"Like it? This place looks like it costs more than my entire college tuition," I muttered.
His lips quirked. "Then it's a good thing I'm not charging you."
Before I could reply, my phone buzzed.
Rishi💗...
I stepped a little away from the group and picked up. "Hey."
"Hey? That's it? I've been calling since morning! You okay? What the hell happened yesterday?"
"I'm fine. Really."
"You had a panic attack in a locked classroom, Sameera. That's not just fine." Her voice softened. "So… are you gonna tell me what's going on with you and this guy?"
I frowned. "What guy?"
"The one whose name you just didn't say," Rishi said flatly. "Saharsh."
I rolled my eyes. "There's nothing—"
"Right. And I didn't hear you admit yesterday that you felt safe when he was there? That your heartbeat went all weird?"
I sighed. "That's not—"
"Sameera," she cut in gently. "This is exactly how you feel when you like someone. You don't have to say it yet. Just… stop pretending you don't."
I stared at the sand under my feet, my throat tight. "…I'll call you later."
Back with the others, the afternoon melted into sunlit chaos—Shreya trying to drag everyone into a game of beach volleyball, Aryan and Shivam arguing over music, Kiara taking way too many sunset selfies.
And Saharsh… well, he was everywhere. Passing me a bottle of water before I realized I was thirsty. Steadying me when I tripped over a shell. Standing just close enough that the wind carried his cologne.
At one point, I sat at the edge of the deck, my toes curling in the sand, and he sat beside me without a word. Just a quiet presence, our shoulders brushing, the ocean stretching endlessly in front of us.
I hated how easy it was to let the sound of waves drown out everything else—my doubts, my fear, my carefully built walls.
And I hated even more how much I didn't actually hate it.
By nightfall, the beach house had transformed into something straight out of a holiday magazine. Strings of warm fairy lights crisscrossed the deck, and the faint crackle of a bonfire on the sand mixed with laughter and music.
Shreya was tossing marshmallows to Aryan, who missed every single catch. Kiara had claimed the perfect Instagram corner with Manjiri, both of them giggling at something on her phone.
I hovered at the edge of it all, wrapped in a light shawl, watching the flames dance against the dark sea.
"Cold?"
I turned. Saharsh was standing just behind me, holding out a mug of hot chocolate.
I took it carefully. "Thanks."
He didn't move away—just stepped beside me, close enough that the side of his arm brushed mine. The warmth was distracting, though I told myself it was just the fire.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The music faded into the background, the sound of the waves filling the quiet between us.
"You were quiet today," he said finally.
"I'm always quiet," I replied, staring into my mug.
"Not like this." His voice was low, like he was trying to read me. "Is it about yesterday?"
I tensed. "I told you, I'm fine."
He studied me for a long moment, and then, with a sigh, bent slightly to meet my eyes. "Sameera… I'm not going to push. But don't lie to me."
Something in his tone made it impossible to answer. I looked away first, pretending to focus on Kiara's laughter carrying over the breeze.
He straightened, giving me that infuriating half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Come on. They're starting the game without us."
Before I could react, he took my mug, set it on the deck railing, and held out his hand—not waiting for me to take it, but somehow making it impossible not to.
His palm was warm, steady. And annoyingly, it made me feel steadier too.
The laughter, the music, the sea breeze—all of it blurred into a comfortable haze. Somewhere between Aryan's terrible singing and Manjiri's relentless teasing, my head grew heavy. I curled up on the couch outside, the fire's glow warming my skin.
The next thing I felt was movement. Strong arms slipping under me, lifting me effortlessly. My head lolled against a solid chest, the faint scent of his cologne cutting through in the air.
I should've said something—should've told him I was awake—but my body refused to listen.
Inside, the light was dim, golden. He carried me up the short hallway and into one of the rooms, the sound of the waves now just a whisper through the open window.
He lowered me onto the bed with surprising gentleness, but instead of moving away, he stayed—close enough that I could feel the warmth of him seeping through the air between us.
His hand brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face, fingers lingering just a second too long. Then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips pressing against my forehead—lingering, as though he was trying to leave a piece of himself there. His breath was warm against my skin, his scent wrapping around me like something I didn't want to escape from.
When he pulled back, he didn't go far. I felt the weight of his gaze, searching, memorising. His voice came next—low, unsteady, and far too honest to be anything but real.
"I can't keep doing this, Sameera… pretending I don't feel it. It's getting harder every day."
He hovered for a heartbeat longer, like he might give in and kiss me again, before finally straightening and slipping quietly from the room.
The door clicked shut, but the echo of his words stayed behind, thundering in my chest. I didn't move, didn't breathe, afraid that if I did, the moment might vanish—like it had never happened.