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𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗣𝗼𝘃 :

2YEARS AGO [BANGALORE]

A sleek black sedan pulls up in front of the towering glass-covered building. The car door opens with a quiet click.

A man in his mid-20s steps out, tall and composed, his polished black shoes hitting the pavement with calm precision. He adjusts the cuff of his charcoal suit, then slowly removes his dark sunglasses, folding them neatly before sliding them into his coat pocket.

He lifts his gaze to the structure in front of him.

"Shah Industry," he murmurs under his breath, his voice steady.

Without wasting another second, he strides toward the entrance, his presence silent yet commanding.

The lobby is spacious and minimalistic, sunlight pouring through the high windows. Behind a sleek desk, a young receptionist greets him with a polite smile.

Receptionist: "Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

This person in his mid-twenties stops a few feet from the desk, his expression calm but direct.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Shah. It's scheduled for 12:00"

The receptionist types quickly, eyes scanning the screen in front of her. She looks up again, her voice still polite.

Receptionist: "May I know your name, sir?"

This person replies, his tone steady.

"Azael Khan."

Receptionist: "Yes, Mr. Azael Khan. Your appointment has been confirmed, sir. Please follow me."

She walks ahead, leading him down a quiet hallway. Azael walks behind her, observing the modern interiors, the quiet hum of professionalism in the air.

She opens the door to a meeting room.

Receptionist: "Please wait here, sir. He'll be with you in about five minutes."

AZAEL'S POV

I gives a small nod and step into the room and the door clicks shut behind me. It's quiet-too quiet. The kind of silence that forces you to face everything you're trying to bury under calm expressions and practiced confidence.

I don't sit.

Instead, I walk to the window, eyes tracing a skyline that once held fragments of my childhood. I've studied here-just for a while. Celebrated birthdays in this very city, with chocolate cake and balloons tied to chairs. But time moved on, and so did I. The streets changed, the faces faded. I'm not the boy who once ran through these lanes or smiled in old photographs. That version of me never returned... yet somehow, a part of him still lingers inside me-silent, buried, but still watching. And now, after all these years, I'm back. Not as a memory, but as a man."

I exhale slowly, the air leaving my lungs heavier than it should. My eyes remain fixed on the skyline-familiar, yet unfamiliar. "I didn't come here for memories," I whisper to myself, voice low and steady. "I came here for what matters most. For the one thing that can't slip through my fingers."

My jaw tightens, shoulders squared as if bracing for something far greater than what the day has to offer.

I need to lock this deal. No backup plans, no second options. It has to happen today.

Dad needs to see I'm not just another rich heir playing office. I'm done hearing the same thing over and over-"You're still too young for this," "Let your time come," "You're not ready yet."

I turn away from the window, letting my fingers trail lightly over the edge of the table. It's polished, clean, untouched.

That's exactly how they see me. Untested. Unproven.

I glance at the chair, then take a seat, straight-backed, hands folded loosely in front of me.

This meeting with Mr. Shah... it isn't just about a contract. It's about making space for myself in a room that was never built for me to lead. It's about proving that I can build something of my own under this name.

My fingers tap once against the table.

He gave me the title-Executive Director. Just enough to be visible, but never enough to move without approval. Fancy business cards, a corner office, but no real authority.

I shake my head slightly.

What's the point of sitting one step below the throne if I have to ask to breathe?

I sit in the silence, composed from the outside. But inside?

I've already made my decision.

Today, either I walk out of this room with the deal... or I don't walk out on the same man at all.

I'm still sitting there, trying to control my thoughts, but they keep going in different directions.

This deal... this meeting... just one signature can change everything for me.

That's when the door opens.

Footsteps. Slow, confident.

I quickly stand up and adjust my blazer.

Mr. Shah walks in, wearing a dark blue suit. He looks serious, like someone who's here only for business. No smile, no unnecessary words.

He looks at me with a calm but sharp gaze.

"Mr. Khan," he says and offers a handshake.

"Mr. Shah." I shake his hand firmly.

We both sit across the table. The silence between us feels heavy-like this meeting already has expectations.

For a few seconds, no one speaks. Then he leans back a little and says,

"So... you're the Executive Director now."

His voice is calm, but I can feel the pressure in his tone. He's testing me.

I nod. "Yes, sir. I'm handling operations and expansions. This project was given to me to lead."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Given to you? Or are you the one actually making the decisions?"

That hits hard. He's questioning if I have real power or if I'm just pretending to lead.

I stay calm and answer carefully.

"I was given the responsibility to lead this deal. And I'm here to complete it."

He watches me closely. Then he says,

"I've worked with your father for fifteen years. He doesn't give up control easily."

He's right. And he knows I know that too.

"Tell me one thing, Azael." His tone becomes serious now.

"Why should I trust you with this deal, instead of the man I've always worked with?"

I place my hands together on the table, my fingers pressing against the cool surface as I look straight at him.

This is the moment.

"Because if this deal goes wrong, I'll be the one to face it-not just the company," I say, voice firm, locking eyes with him.

"Because I know how it feels to have a title without real power-and I won't leave this room without proving I deserve both."

The words cut through the silence, each one heavier than the last. "And because for me, this deal is not just about business. It's about finally being seen for what I can do."

I can feel the weight of it all in my chest, but I keep my composure, unwilling to let any of the turmoil inside show.

Mr. Shah stays silent for a few seconds. Then he gives a very small smile.

Not friendly. Just a sign that he's listening now.

"Good," he says and taps the file on the table.

"Then let's see how well you prepared"

Mr. Shah leaned forward, adjusting his glasses.

The contract lay on the polished glass table, untouched, waiting.

His fingers reached for the pen with calm confidence.

But just before ink could meet paper-

════ ✣✤✣ ════

A soft click echoed through the silent room.

The door opened gently.

It wasn't rushed, it wasn't loud-

But the moment it did, everything stilled.

The air shifted as if it was waiting for something... or someone.

Even I, half distracted, looked up instinctively.

And yet, I saw no one-only the sound entered first.

A voice.

Soft, mildly irritated, but filled with warmth.

It flowed into the room like a breeze through curtains.

"Maine kaha tha na apse, khana khaye bina nahi nikalyega... phir bhi aap nikal gaye." she said,

("I told you not to leave without eating, didn't I?")

And the tone in her voice-

It wasn't scolding,

It was worry wrapped in affection.

Not a loud voice, not dramatic-

But enough to wrap around the room and settle under your skin.

"Aapne toh apni dawaai bhi nahi li, pata hai na aapko, aapki tabiyat kharab ho jaati hai."

(You didn't even take your medicine, you do know, right, that your health gets worse.)

She said it once-then again, even gentler.

The sentence trailed off in a sigh.

It was that kind of voice that made you want to pause and listen.

That made you feel like someone cared too much.

And not in a childish way-

But with a maturity that only love or deep concern brings.

And just like that...

She walked in without a rush, and stood quietly beside Mr. Shah.

Right there-just a few feet away.

And in that instant,

a faint, delicate fragrance reached me-like crushed rose petals warmed by the sun.

I inhaled without meaning to... and it settled inside me like memory.

Gujarati. The softness of her voice, the rhythm-it gave her away.

But it wasn't just her voice anymore.

It had gripped me. Entirely.

I didn't understand how something so gentle could take over so fiercely.

It wasn't an attraction. It was something deeper.

A quiet pull-urgent, desperate.

My heart stumbled.

My body leaned forward-helplessly drawn to her.

I had to see her. I didn't want to blink.

But-damn.

I sat at the side of the table, where the view wasn't clear.

Mr. Shah was directly in front of me,

From where i am all I could see was her back.

A loose strand of her hair had slipped across her face,

shielding her like a curtain drawn too close.

That single wisp of hair... became my greatest obstacle.

I couldn't see her fully.

And it was torture.

My fingers clenched.

That voice... and now her-so close-

And I couldn't even see her face.

Even now, I'm angry thinking about it.

What kind of cruel timing was that?

God placed a mystery just a few feet away from me,

But gave me only a whisper of her presence.

It was unbearable.

Just when I leaned slightly,

Hoping to catch even a glimpse of her profile-

Someone walked in.

The secretary.

He stood right in my line of sight,

Unaware that his presence was another torture.

Now, not only could I not see her,

Even the delicate edges of her dupatta were gone.

The only thing that remained-

Was her voice.

Still talking softly to Mr. Shah,

Still full of gentle annoyance and pure affection.

But I couldn't see her lips move.

I couldn't see her eyes.

I couldn't read the face behind the sound.

If this was my office-

I swear, I would've thrown him out.

Or worse-

Killed him right there.

Because in that moment,

All I wanted...

Was to see the girl behind that voice.

While all of this was running through my mind, Mr.Shah's secretary clears his throat awkwardly and said "Sir... I tried stopping," he muttered to Mr. Shah.

"But ma'am just wouldn't listen."

I could feel a smirk rise to my lips.

Of course, she didn't.

That voice didn't belong to someone who waits for permission.

And just like that-

She spoke again.

A spark lit through me like dry wood catching flame.

"Dad, why are you just staring at him?" here she goes again, but this time, her voice had that classic being-ignored tone...

Mr. Shah was still silent - God knows what he was thinking so deeply about.

And before the suspense could build any further, his daughter jumped in. Again.

Because clearly, the art of dramatic pause was lost on her

"Are you even hearing what I'm saying, Dad?"

And in that moment-

My world shifted.

Dad.

She called him Dad.

So she was Mr. Shah's daughter.

The mystery was no longer a stranger,

She belonged to him-and now, she was part of this moment in a way that mattered.

Mr. Shah finally broke his silence and, glancing toward his secretary, waving a hand.

"It's fine, you can leave."

The man gave a small nod and stepped aside.

I exhaled quietly, glad that obstacle was gone-

But before any silence could settle in,

She spoke again, louder this time.

"Dad" She sighed. "They call themselves your friends, but don't even realise how often your health dips?"

She didn't stop.

"There should be no meeting right now.

This is your lunch hour!"

I couldn't hold back the smile tugging at my lips.

What a girl.

So full of care,

So unaware of how her voice was crawling under my skin.

A storm wrapped in sunlight.

I wish...

I wish someone cared for me like that.

I wish her concern, her fight, her affection-

Someday, it belonged to me.

Time felt like it had slowed,

Not stopped, no-just paused long enough

For me to memorize everything.

The way her voice filled the room like warm rain.

The way she stood tall beside her father,

Not as a shadow, but a flame of her own.

A single strand of hair kept falling over her cheek.

And each time, she tucked it behind her ear,

Unaware that I was watching-

Hungry for a glimpse of her face.

She was unknowingly making it easier for me

To fall.

Easier to believe

That angels aren't always in heaven-

Some walk into boardrooms,

Carrying storms in their voice,

And warmth in their hands.

And I-

I sat there.

Breathless.

Watching,

Listening.

And wishing

That this moment would never end.

I was just about to return to reality-

My lips parted slightly, ready to speak,

But she spoke again.

"Dad, aap sach mein khamosh rahenge?"

("Dad, are you seriously going to stay silent?")

This time there was a frustrated pause in her tone.

"Okay fine... toh main inn uncle se baat karti hoon."

("Okay fine, then I'll talk to this uncle instead?")

My heart skipped.

Uncle?

What the-?

Before I could even blink,

She turned around... and began to speak-

Uncle, aapko pata nahi ki da-"

("Uncle, you don't know that da-")

Her sentence collapsed mid-air.

The words fell off her lips, incomplete.

Like the wind had tangled itself in silk... and refused to let go.

And in that breathless pause-

Something inside me stopped too.

My heart.

Or whatever part of me still believed I could stay unaffected.

Because what I saw-

The kind of beauty standing before me-

Calling it breathtaking would still be an insult to her grace.

My heart didn't just stop-it surrendered.

Because the beauty I was looking at wasn't just rare...

She looked like the most divine thought God ever had.

In a single glance, every bit of logic, every ounce of control I had-shattered.

She wasn't just beautiful-

She was devastatingly beautiful.

The kind that makes the world fall quiet.

The kind you only see once-and never forget,

not even till the end of time,

not even through eternity's endless gaze.

She must've looked into a mirror this morning-

And I wonder... what did the mirror even feel?

Did it pause for a second too?

Did it question its own worth,

wondering if it had ever reflected something so divine?

Because if a mirror could speak,

It would've whispered,

"No reflection after her will ever be enough."

If beauty needed a definition,

If divinity wore human skin,

It would be her.

Mr. Shah's daughter.

She stood there in a white anarkali,

Looking like a vision sculpted from moonlight.

No, not just beautiful-she was beyond comprehension.

An angel would fall at her feet and feel ordinary.

Her long brown hair framed her face in soft, careless waves.

God, I wanted run my fingers through them

To know the texture of that softness-

Her eyes-those warm, almond-shaped brown eyes-

They didn't just look at me, they touched something inside me.

Deep. Raw. Real.

And her cheeks...

Blush wasn't needed there.

Nature had already given her the kind of color

People chase in the best filters.

Rosy. Tender. Barely-there pink.

But what struck me the most-

Was the flicker of embarrassment in her gaze.

And I hated it.

I hated seeing her like that.

Not because it made her any less beautiful-

No, she looked divine even in that shyness.

But because I knew-deep in my bones-

She wasn't meant to lower her gaze.

(She was made only to be loved.)

She deserved to bloom.

To shine.

To be held in someone's arms like the most precious thing on earth.

Because she wasn't meant to feel awkward.

She wasn't made for shame.

She was crafted-entirely and only-

To be loved.

She deserves admiration.

Adoration.

Someone who could look at her and say,

"You're the beginning and end of all beauty."

And in that moment,

I swear I felt it-

If the universe had ever made something just for me... it was her only.

She was still standing there, her eyes wide, face slightly pale with shock.

Just then, I heard Mr. Shah's laughter-

warm, familiar... and yet, in that moment,

it felt like a turning point in time.

I turned toward the sound,

And the one who apparently sees me as an "uncle,"

the one whose face I had been aching to see,

finally stood before me-fully revealed.

She also turned her gaze toward Mr. Shah's smile,

but my soul...

it was drawn only to her.

Just then, Mr. Shah spoke-his voice laced with a teasing warmth.

"Beta, uncle se baat ho gayi?"

("Dear, done talking to uncle?")

She closed her eyes, gently...

Clearly embarrassed.

Then she turned to face her father, her voice soft but annoyed.

"Dad, aapko hassi aa rahi hai? Aapko mujhe bolna chahiye tha na!"

("Dad, you're laughing? You should've told me!")

Mr. Shah smiled, full of fatherly fondness.

"My princess, main bolta... agar tum apne dad ko bolne ka mauka deti."

("My princess, I would've told you... if you had given your dad a chance to speak.")

She glanced at me again-her cheeks flushed, lips parting like she wanted to explain... but didn't know how.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, voice low, barely above a whisper.

And then, without meeting my eyes again, she turned.

Her dupatta fluttered behind her as she hurried to the door-

Like she couldn't leave fast enough.

Just watched her disappear like a gust of warm breeze.

That clumsy apology, the way her eyes darted away,

That rush to escape the moment-

It made something flicker in me.

I exhaled slowly... and smiled, quietly.

Cute.

The word whispered itself in my head like an involuntary sigh.

Not the dramatic, confident kind of girl.

But the kind who stumbles when flustered,

Who calls a man uncle and then runs away like her world's ending.

And somehow-

That made her even more unforgettable.

I was just thinking about all of this when Mr. Shah's soft chuckle brought me back to reality.

I cleared my throat and spoke,

"I'm sorry, sir... I didn't know. If I had known earlier, I would've stopped myself."

Mr. Shah waved it off kindly.

"No, no, Azael... it's not your fault at all. Please sit, beta."

("Son.")

I sat back down, still a little shaken.

Mr. Shah smiled again.

"And I should also say sorry... on behalf of my daughter. She's like that-

Caring to the point it turns into scolding sometimes."

I shook my head with a slight smile.

"Please, sir... don't make me feel guilty by apologising.

Honestly... I found it endearing."

He laughed, raising a brow.

"Okay okay, dear. Let's come back to the reason we're here. Now, shall we sit?"

We both sat down.

He picked up the papers and, without further delay, signed them.

Then he looked at me, his tone now serious, but still warm.

"I hope this deal between Shah Industries & Khan Legacy will bring great success to both of us.

And I trust you'll give your full responsibility to this project."

He paused,

"And maybe, in the future, we'll work together again on something new."

He stood, offering his hand to shake.

I took it firmly, smiling with the calmness I didn't quite feel.

But deep inside... I thought of something else.

"Insha'Allah, sir... in that future, I'll not only be your business partner...

I'll be your son-in-law too."

That thought alone made a smirk curl on my lips.

And as I looked at the closed gate again...

I just whispered inside, soon...

PRESENT

I was lost in the past, replaying the day I first fell in love with my princess-But then, her voice broke through it all, snapping me back to the present.

A soft, broken whisper-"Mom... mom..."

She says it like she's lost, like she's stuck inside a nightmare she can't wake up from.

My heart stutters.

In a second, I'm off the couch and at her bedside. She's tossing under the blanket, her face tense, her lashes trembling against her cheeks as if she's still trapped in whatever darkness her mind conjured. God, what is she seeing? What has she gone through?

I kneel beside her, not caring about anything else. Gently, I slide my hand beneath her head, lifting it into my lap. Her hair spills over my arm like silk, warm and delicate, and I cradle her like she's the most fragile thing I've ever held.

"Baby, you're okay," I murmur, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. My voice is barely audible. "You're safe now, princess. Nothing's going to happen to you. I'm right here... I'm not going anywhere."

She doesn't respond, but her breathing starts to even out a little. My fingers keep moving slowly through her hair, soothing, comforting, trying to replace whatever horror she just escaped with something gentler-something like peace.

I stare at her for a moment.

God, she looks so small. So vulnerable.

There's a line between her brows, a crease carved by fear that hasn't faded even in sleep. It kills me to see her like this.

I brought her here, my mind murmurs, eyes still locked on her face. To my apartment. Because if I had stayed at home, I would've spent the entire night answering questions-Ammi's, Dad's-and once again, I would've left her alone. I couldn't do that. Not again. Not when she needs me.

My jaw tightens.

"She needs me," I repeat under my breath, almost like a vow. "And this time... I won't run. I won't leave her side."

My focus shifts back to her.

She's still trembling.

Still lost.

Still haunted by whatever her mind keeps dragging her back into.

And something inside me snaps.

I clench my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay calm, but the fury is there-quiet, cold, burning.

"I swear... I swear if I ever find out what's tormenting her... if there's anything, anyone responsible for this fear in her eyes..."

My jaw locks, and my voice hardens into a whisper.

"I will kill it with my bare hands. I don't care what it is. No one gets to hurt her. Not while I'm still breathing."

She stirs slightly against my lap, and I immediately soften again, placing my hand on her cheek, my thumb brushing over her skin.

"You're okay, princess," I whisper, my voice trembling as I pull her into my embrace. "You're not alone. I've got you, always."

I hold her close, feeling her heartbeat match mine, and I never want to let go. There's so much I wish I could say, but all I need is her here, safe in my arms.

With a soft kiss on her forehead, I murmur, "I'll protect you. Always."

Just then, she stirs again-this time, more than just a shift in sleep. Her lashes flutter against her skin, brows twitching faintly. I freeze.

And then, slowly, her eyes open.

For a second, they're dazed, unfocused. She blinks twice, her gaze searching for something-anything-that will anchor her to where she is.

But the moment her eyes land on me... or more precisely, on my lap... a visible jolt runs through her.

She jerks upright, as if she's just touched something electric, her breath catching in her throat. The warmth of her body leaves mine in an instant.

"What-what was I doing on your lap, Mr. Khan?" she gasps, her voice sharp and confused. "Where am I? And where is everyone else?

Her words come all at once-tumbling out in a rush, laced with panic and fragments of disbelief.

She looks around the room, eyes wide and alarmed, her chest rising and falling too quickly. Her fingers tremble as she clutches the edge of the blanket, as if it'll give her answers I can't.

I watch her carefully, my expression softening.

Her hair is tousled from sleep, a few strands clinging stubbornly to her damp forehead. Her eyes-still heavy with the weight of a nightmare-glint with a frantic sheen, like she's barely crawled out of some darkness that still clings to her.

And her lips...

Soft.

Flushed.

Slightly parted.

Trembling with unsaid words.

Unaware of just how much power they hold.

Before she can speak again, I raise my hand, slowly... deliberately... and press my index finger gently against her lips.

"Shhh," I murmured, my voice low, steady. "Everything's fine. Just calm down... princess,

You need to rest"

But she isn't having it.

She pulls my finger away from her lips with a sharp flick of her hand, her expression turning sharper now-more alert, more fiery.

"Everything's fine? Really?" she snaps, eyes narrowing. "You think everything's fine, Mr. Khan? Then first tell me-why was I on your lap? And what happened to me that I suddenly need to rest now?"

She's seconds away from spiraling, her breath shallow, words tumbling out like they're escaping a storm inside her.

I exhale, deeply. I can't let her fall apart like this.

"I know you're overwhelmed," I say gently, "and I get it. But listen to me-whatever you're thinking, it's not what it looks like."

Her brows shoot up. "Oh? Then what is it exactly? Please, enlighten me."

I lean in a little, trying to steady her spiraling mind. "You fainted, Alizeh. Right in the middle of the party."

She blinks. "I-what? In the middle of the party?"

"Yes."

She looks around, frowning harder. "Okay, so I passed out at the party... Then how did I end up in this kind of haunted-house party?" She blinks a few times, trying to make sense of it all, as if the very idea of being here feels unreal

I can't help it. A laugh slips out-short, breathy, unexpected.

Still, I bite back more laughter, controlling myself as I lean slightly closer, smirk tugging at my lips. "I am the ghost, apparently. And this-" I gesture around the room-"isn't a haunted house. It's my apartment. The place where you were treated. So yeah... sorry for dragging you away from the actual party. But I promise, next time we will party. And I swear it won't end before 4 a.m."

She stares at me, completely lost. Her eyes narrow. "What do you mean next time party... Mr. Khan?"

She has no idea what I meant by next time.

Maybe she pictures a room full of lights, laughter, people dancing till 4 a.m.

But

No, meri jaan, the party I'm talking about...

is the one where your voice breaks beneath me.

Where your tongue still runs-but only to beg.

Because next time, your words won't be "Mr. Khan, what do you mean?"

They'll be-

"Ahh... Mr. Khan, please... don't stop..."

"Mr. Khan, I can't... I can't take it anymore..."

Or the one that plays on loop in my filthy, twisted mind-

"Mr. Khan... make me cum..."

Yeah. That's the real party I'm talking about.

Your body trembling, breath hitching, lips parting only to moan my name like it's the only thing you remember.

She doesn't get it yet.

She doesn't know how close she is to being completely undone.

And the best part?

She thinks she's in control right now-with that attitude, that sass, that damn smirk.

Let her innocence win for now

Because next time... the only thing she'll be able to do is fall apart beneath me.

And I take her again and again

and again.

I pull myself out of the haze-barely.

If I don't, I'll lose the last bit of control I have left.

But then I look at her... blinking up at me with those wide, confused eyes, like she's still trying to make sense of my silence.

My sweet little princess. So innocent, so unaware.

She doesn't even realize what I've been thinking this whole time.

And God... I want to twist her up even more.

Tangle her in words that make her question every look, every pause, every breath.

So I lean back, slow and lazy, and let the corner of my mouth curve into a smirk.

Then I say it-low and deliberate, just enough to make her squirm:

"Why do you need to understand everything right now-especially when you're barely able to sit straight?"

She doesn't respond right away. Just keeps blinking at me in a way that makes it obvious-she still doesn't get it.

Then, out of nowhere, she bursts, "God knows who made you a professor. I'm pretty sure you bribe your way into the post!"

I smile-because she has no idea how accurate her words feel. Still, I say nothing.

"And anyway," she mutters under her breath, "why do I even care?"

She straightens up, yanking the blanket away from her legs.

"I'm done with this so-called treatment. I feel fine now. So please-drop me back to my apartment."

The teasing glint fades from my face in a blink. My expression darkens just enough for her to notice.

"You're not going anywhere tonight," I say, my voice quiet but firm. "I'll drop you in the morning."

Before she can argue, I reach forward, brushing those stubborn strands of hair behind her ear-tucking them neatly behind her skin-warmed lobe.

She freezes.

"Please stop touching me under random excuses, Mr. Khan," she snaps, swatting my hand away. "And I'm serious. I don't want to stay here another minute. If you can't take me, I'll go on my own."

That does something to me.

My face changes-just slightly-but enough.

"Fine," I mutter, jaw tightening. "Go. Take yourself."

She starts to get up, throwing the blanket aside, her movements rigid and shaky at once.

But the moment she lifts her foot to take a step, my words stop her cold-freezing her mid-motion.

"If you dare take even one more step forward," I say, voice dark and deliberate, my grip on her wrist tightening just enough to make her breath hitch, "I'll tie those pretty legs, f*ck you standing-deep and rough-till you're dripping, moaning my name, and nothing's left but the pleasure I give you."

ALIZEH'S POV

My breath catches in my throat-my entire body freezing. "Did Mr. Khan really say that? Like, really... I can't believe it."

Oh God... where the hell have I landed?

I press my lips together, trying to compose myself, but inside I'm screaming.

I hate him.

I hate him from the bottom of my heart.

A man who doesn't even teach me the syllabus is now trying to do... this with me?

Unbelievable.

No, he doesn't get to do this.

He doesn't get to control me.

Not anymore.

I look straight into his eyes and snap, "Mr. Khan, what do you think? That I'm afraid of you? If that's what you believe, you're completely wrong."

He raises a brow-but doesn't say a word.

Typical. When it's time to speak, he decides to shut up.

I roll my eyes, biting back another frustrated sigh.

But of course-he chooses that moment to open his damn mouth.

"Princess..." he drawls, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips, "you've spent all this time thinking this only?"

This man is insufferable.

Just as I open my mouth to give it back to him, he steps closer, his presence intense, his voice dripping with challenge and teasing, "Alright, if you're really not scared of me... stay here."

He pauses, the weight of his words sinking in, before leaning in close to my ear. His breath sends a shiver down my spine as he whispers, "Sleep with me, Princess."

Whaaaattttttttt the f*ck?!

I practically screamed Internally. My voice cracked with shock, outrage, and disbelief.

He's doing this on purpose.

He knows how to get under my skin, how to test my limits.

But I won't let him win.

I square my shoulders, narrowing my eyes.

"Fine, Mr. Khan," I say, jaw clenched, voice defiant, "I will sleep on your bed tonight. Right here. With you."

Somewhere in the world, a more sane version of me is probably screaming to stop.

But this is war now.

"But," I add, pausing just long enough to see his cocky expression falter, "on one condition."

He tilts his head slightly, genuinely curious now. "What condition, princess?"

His tone is teasing, amused-he's clearly enjoying this.

"There will be a partition between us," I say, keeping my voice steady, deliberately smug. My arms cross over my chest as I deliver the condition like a final verdict.

In my head, I'm already grinning. He won't agree. No way. Mr. Khan doesn't do rules, especially ones he didn't make.

But the look on his face? Worth everything.

For a second-just one brief second-his smirk falters. His eyes widen just a little, like I've pulled the rug out from under him. But he recovers fast. Clears his throat. Straightens his back like nothing just happened.

"Okay," he says at last, lips curving into a calm, measured smile. "Condition accepted."

Wait... what?

That wasn't supposed to happen.

I blink. Smile frozen in place. Mind? Screaming.

Well done, Alizeh. You thought you were trapping Mr. Khan, but look who just walked right into their own trap.

Congrats, sweetheart. Now you'll have to sleep next to him-with a partition, sure-but next to him nonetheless.

My subconscious is practically rolling its eyes at me.

Set a rule, did you? To protect your precious boundaries? How noble. But what if he decides to break them at 2 a.m. with a whisper and that look in his eyes?

I stay silent, but deep down, I know there's no turning back. And

" I need to sleep next to him"

                  ⎯⎯⎯ ✿ ⎯⎯⎯          

OMG, just the thought of it is giving me butterflies! 😩💫 They're sharing a bed? The tension is so real! 😏🔥 What is going on? Seriously, who saw this coming?👀

Can't wait for the next one, right? 🔥btw what you guys think is going to happen in the next chapter? 🤔

Drop your thoughts👇🏻