Sameera's POV:
Daksh insisted on dropping Saharsh home, Saharsh was hesitating—until he spotted Janhvi and me standing outside the college gate.
The car came towards us, Saharsh leaning slightly toward me, curls falling onto his forehead, his smile making my stomach flip.
"Hop in," he said smoothly. "We'll drop you two. We stay in the same building anyway."
I froze for a second, blinking like an idiot, while Janhvi grinned and slid into the car without hesitation. Typical Janhvi. I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and followed her in, still feeling Daksh's eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel.
As the car started moving, Saharsh stopped the car and he got down almost immediately. Before any of us could say anything, he added casually, "You take the front, Janhvi. AC's full blast, and I've got a bit of a cold. Can't sit under it."
I almost rolled my eyes. A cold? Right. He just wanted me next to him, and the worst part was—I wanted it too.
The car ride felt suffocatingly quiet. Janhvi was scrolling through her phone like it was the most interesting thing on earth, Daksh's jaw was locked in place as he stared at the road, and I… I couldn't stop noticing Saharsh.
He sat close, his arm brushing mine every time the car jolted. Every touch sent tiny sparks shooting through me. My fingers fiddled with the strap of my watch, just to keep them busy. Normally, he'd tease me for something so small, but today he stayed quiet. Still, I could feel his gaze on me, warm and steady, like he was memorizing me even without words.
When we finally stopped at our building, Janhvi hopped out first, humming a random tune like there wasn't an awkward cloud hanging over us.
I lingered, leaning slightly toward Saharsh as I whispered, "Do you think… there's something going on between them? Or maybe Daksh… likes Janhvi?"
The question felt dangerous, like I was poking at a thread that could unravel everything.
His eyes followed Daksh's car as it idled at the corner, the silhouette inside stiff and unreadable, before it finally drove off.
"I've noticed it too," Saharsh said quietly. "There's been a shift in him. But Daksh is… hard to read. I'm still trying to figure him out."
I hummed, thoughtful, my brows knitting together.
But as we walked into the building side by side, the awkward ride and the tension between our friends began to fade. All I could feel was the strange, quiet certainty that always tugged at me when he was near—as if no matter what storms brewed around us, something about him and me felt steady, ineviatable.
Finally—Saturday.
After a week that felt like one never-ending roller coaster ride—lectures, assignments, secrets, Saharsh—I was more than happy to be in my pajamas, hair tied up in the messiest bun imaginable, standing in our little kitchen.
It was already noon (so much for breakfast), and I was stirring a pan of paneer, the aroma of masalas filling the whole flat. Behind me, Janhvi sat cross-legged on the counter, scrolling through her phone and doing the bare minimum to help. By which I mean she had washed exactly one tomato and declared she had "contributed."
"You know," I muttered, tasting the gravy, "you're useless in the kitchen."
Janhvi gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Excuse me? I am the official moral support. Without me, your paneer would feel unloved."
I laughed, shaking my head, when my phone buzzed against the counter.
Saharsh.
Just his name lighting up the screen was enough to bring a ridiculous smile on my face. I quickly opened the message, hiding the phone from Janhvi's nosy eyes.
> Saharsh: Good morning, sleepyhead. Or should I say good afternoon? ☀️😏
I bit my lip, trying (and failing) to fight the grin.
"Who's that?" Janhvi's suspicious tone came from behind me. She was leaning dangerously close, trying to peek at my phone.
"Random meme," I lied smoothly, locking the screen before she could snatch it.
Janhvi narrowed her eyes. "Hmm. Meme brings that smile, huh?"
"Yup," I said quickly, turning back to stir the paneer. "It was… very funny."
Her eyes stayed glued to me, like she could smell the lie. But before she could press more, I blurted out, "So, tell me… what's up with you and Daksh?"
The shift was instant. Janhvi, who had been in full FBI interrogation mode, suddenly went quiet. Too quiet. She fiddled with her phone, her confident expression slipping.
I raised my eyebrows, pretending to focus on the pan while watching her from the corner of my eye. "Hmm? Something you want to share?"
"No," she said a little too fast. "There's nothing."
I smirked. Got her.
The kitchen filled with the sound of paneer sizzling, my phone buzzing again on the counter, and Janhvi's uncharacteristic silence.
The silence in the kitchen stretched. Janhvi wasn't looking at me, just tapping her fingers on the counter like she wished I hadn't asked that question.
I switched off the stove and leaned against it, softening my voice. "Hey… you know you can tell me anything, right? I mean—look at me, I told you about Saharsh even when I wasn't ready to admit it to myself."
Her eyes flicked up at me, hesitant, but I smiled, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Whenever you feel like it, Jannu… I'm here. Always."
That did it. She cracked the smallest smile, then suddenly pulled me into a hug. "Ugh, you're annoying, you know that?" she muttered into my shoulder.
I laughed. "Yeah, but you love me."
"Unfortunately," she groaned, but she hugged me tighter.
We sat cross-legged on the floor afterward, plates balanced in our laps, eating the hot paneer. It wasn't fancy, but it felt like comfort. Like home.
My phone buzzed again. This time I didn't hide it.
> Saharsh: Paneer??? You're making paneer??
Saharsh: Now I'm starving. Not fair.
I bit back a smile as I texted him back.
> Me: Should've come with tiffin boxes, Mr. MBA.
Saharsh: Don't tempt me. I might just knock at your door.
I quickly locked the screen before Janhvi noticed how warm my face had gotten.
After we finished eating, there was still quite a bit of paneer left. Janhvi licked her spoon and frowned. "What do we do with all this extra?"
I shrugged, stacking plates. "Hmm… why don't I give it to our neighbor upstairs? He lives alone, right? Probably hasn't had lunch yet."
Janhvi froze mid-step, then slowly turned toward me with the biggest grin. "Our neighbor upstairs, huh?"
I rolled my eyes, already feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "Don't start."
"Oh, I'm starting," she sing-songed, wagging her spoon like it was proof of a crime. "Sameera Gayaki, cooking paneer for Saharsh Wankhade… my day has been made."
I threw a napkin at her, laughing despite myself, while she danced away, still grinning like she'd cracked the world's biggest secret.
Balancing the covered bowl in my hands, I knocked on Saharsh's door, half-expecting him to take forever like always.
Instead, the door swung open almost instantly.
And I froze.
Because Saharsh Wankhade stood there—shirtless, sweat glistening down his chest, curls damp and falling into his forehead, his breathing still uneven from what had to be an intense workout.
My eyes, very traitorously, dipped lower—sculpted abs, lean and defined, the kind I'd only ever seen in movies or on fitness posters. Heat shot up my cheeks before I could control it.
He blinked, equally stunned to see me. "Sameera?"
"I–uh—" I fumbled with the bowl. "Paneer. We… made extra, so…"
And just like that, his eyes widened and he snatched the nearest t-shirt off the back of a chair, tugging it over his head in record speed.
I didn't miss the way his jaw tightened, or how fast he avoided my gaze. Which only made me regret, horribly, that I hadn't let myself stare for a few seconds longer. Great, Sameera. Now your brain is going to replay that blurry glimpse of abs forever.
"Sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his curls, still sticking damply. "Didn't know you were coming."
"I noticed," I said before I could stop myself.
His lips twitched. "So… paneer?"
I shoved the bowl at him just to distract myself. "Yes. Before Janhvi eats all of it."
He chuckled, stepping aside. "Come in?"
The last time I'd been here, I'd been half-conscious, fainting in his arms after that Classroom moment. I hadn't noticed anything beyond his scent and his voice. But now…
His apartment was simple but warm. Books stacked on tables, a half-folded blanket on the couch, a faint citrusy cologne clinging to the air. Lived in. Real. Him.
"Nice place," I said, walking in, trying not to sound breathless.
"Messy place," he corrected, setting the bowl on the counter.
And then—he leaned against it, arms folded, still damp curls falling over his forehead, watching me in that way that always made the world fall away.
"You brought me lunch," he said softly, like it meant more than I intended.
"Well, yeah." I shifted my weight. "Didn't want you starving."
His smile deepened, slow, dangerous. "Careful, Sameera Gayaki. Keep doing this and I might start getting used to you taking care of me."
Something in my chest clenched.
I looked away, anywhere but him—only to catch sight of a curl that had slipped down, brushing his eyebrow. Without thinking, I blurted, "Your hair is… distracting."
His brows shot up, and then that lazy grin appeared. He pushed off the counter and came closer, way too close, enough for me to see the tiny droplets of sweat still on his temple.
"Distracting, huh?" he murmured, his voice dropping.
My breath hitched. "I meant—it just—your curls—they're messy."
"Mhm." He tilted his head, so near that I could feel the warmth of his skin. "And yet you're still staring."
My fingers itched with the urge to touch those curls, to tug him closer, but my pulse hammered so loudly it felt like the whole building could hear it.
His hand brushed against mine as he reached for the bowl again—deliberately, I knew it—and my heart leapt.
The paneer was just an excuse. We both knew it.
I turned to leave, desperate to escape the intensity before my heart gave away everything. "I should go. Janhvi must be waiting—"
But before I reached the door, his hand caught mine. Gentle, firm.
"Sameera," he murmured.
I froze. Slowly, I turned, only to find him closing the distance between us, step by step. My breath caught when he leaned down, so close our lips hovered a whisper apart. His gaze dipped to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and everything in me screamed to just… close the gap.
But panic surged instead. I jerked back, cheeks burning, heart threatening to escape my chest.
"I—uh—really should go," I blurted, spinning toward the door.
I didn't make it.
Because in the next second, warmth surrounded me—his arms sliding around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against him in a backhug. His chest pressed against my back, steady and strong, while his curls brushed against my temple.
"Running away again?" he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, sending shivers straight down my spine.
I stiffened, breath shallow, the air between us thick with something I couldn't name. And then—he tilted his head, pressing the gentlest kiss against my cheek from behind.
Soft. Deliberate. Undoing me completely.
His lips lingered just enough to make my knees weaken before he pulled back, chuckling low.
"I'll make do with the paneer for now," he murmured, voice dipped in mischief.
I nearly melted right there in his arms.
"Enjoy the paneer."
And before he could respond with something else that would leave me weak in the knees, I darted out of his flat, closing the door behind me with my heart hammering against my ribs.
But as I leaned against the elevator door, pressing my cool palms to my burning cheeks, I couldn't stop the smile tugging at my lips.
Because even though I'd escaped… his warmth, his voice, his kiss on my cheek still clung to me like a secret only I was meant to carry.