She emerged from the bathroom, swallowed by the loose black pajama that was far too big for her petite frame. The fabric dragged around her legs as she walked In the dim light, she looked like a Dementor in Harry Potter gliding across the room.

Without sparing him a glance, she made her way to the small two-seater couch at the far end of the room. She fluffed the cushions, tugged the throw blanket over her lap, and settled in.

Karthik, sitting on the bed, watched her with an unreadable gaze. "You can sleep on the bed," he offered. "I'll take the couch."

She scoffed, turning to face him. "Will you fit in this couch? Have you ever looked at yourself? You're so tall, you could high-five the stars and pluck them."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Do you want me to get you one?" His voice dipped lower, smooth like molten honey, rich and deep enough to stir something strange in the air between them.

Hridhaya froze.

Her pulse stuttered. What the hell is he saying? A few hours ago, he was the villain in her life, and now, here he was, murmuring words that belonged in a love story. The way he said it—his big brown eyes fixed on her, sent a sharp, uninvited shiver through her.

No. I hate him. I should hate him. That should be the only thing she felt for him. But when he had apologized earlier—hands clasped, head slightly bowed—something inside her had wavered. Karthik never apologized. He was the kind of man who bulldozed through people's emotions without a backward glance. And yet, tonight... he had looked guilty. Regretful.

Why is he doing that?

Now, that single moment of his geniuses was clawing at her resolve, making her question everything.

Hridhaya, don't be stupid. Forgiveness is just an open door for more heartbreak. More trouble. And definitely more of his nonsense. No, you can't let yourself soften.

A familiar smirk tugged at his lips, pulling her back to reality. "Where are you lost, lioness?" he teased, "Wondering which star I should bring you?"

She swallowed, pushing the unease away.

"Can you do something for me?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

His expression shifted, curiosity flashing in his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, as if trying to read the thoughts running through her head.

"Anything," he said. "Name it. I hurt you, Hridhaya. I want to make it up to you."

Her throat tightened. The sincerity in his voice was dangerous.

"Really?" she whispered.

"I swear."

"Then shut up and don't bother me with these stars and moon dialogues. This apologetic face doesn't suit you. The grumpy boomer uncle face—now that fits you perfectly."

His jaw tensed, his brows knitting together in irritation. "Don't call me that."

She smirked. Perfect way to irritate him.

"Grumpy boomer uncle. Grumpy boomer uncle. Grumpy boomer uncle." She repeated, pissing him more.

His fingers curled into fists, his teeth grinding. Oh, this little menace.

Before he could react, she strode towards the dressing table. She reached for her handbag that she had brought, pulling out a lipstick with wicked intent gleaming in her gaze.

With slow, deliberate strokes, she scribbled across the mirror in bold, scarlet letters: Boomer Uncle.

The second she capped the lipstick, he was behind her.

He reached past her to erase the words, but she shoved at his arm, blocking him. He could have easily moved her—one firm push and she would have stumbled back. But he didn't. He restrained himself, holding back his full strength. He was scared he will hurt her.

She, however, thought she was putting up a tough fight. Her small hands pressed against his chest as she braced against him, determined to keep him away. He exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin.

Then, suddenly he stepped back. She spun around, grinning like she had won some grand battle, her victory smug and shining. And then—he did it. With one swift movement, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.

Hridhaya's breath caught. She had known he was fit. But this?

This was something else. His body looked like it had been sculpted by an artist—sharp lines, hard muscle, and strength carved into every inch of him. His six-pack abs stood out perfectly, his skin taut . The veins along his arms pulsed, highlighting the size of his biceps.

For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She was lost.

Not in thought, not in anger, not in hatred.

Lost in him.

With his shirt on, Karthik had always seemed effortlessly strong. But now, stripped down to nothing but raw, sculpted muscle, he was something else entirely. Fuck this Karthik was better than Karthik Aryan. This was absurd. Unreal. The kind of physique that belonged to warriors, not businessmen. The kind of body which belonged to her Wattpad heros.

Her breath faltered.

She had never once wondered what lay beneath his crisp suits and arrogant smirks. And yet, here she was, unable to stop staring, unable to deny the traitorous flutter in her chest.

"Stop drooling, Hridhaya ," He said in a hoarse whisper.

Her body jolted at his voice. "No, no—I am not drooling," she blurted, forcing her gaze anywhere but on him.

But he wasn't done. His steps were slow, deliberate as he walked near her, "You are," he said firmly, his voice like gravel dipped in honey.

She backed up instinctively, only to feel the cold glass of the mirror pressing against her spine. Nowhere to go.

He was close—so close that his breath fanned across her face, mingling with the faintest trace of his cologne and his manly sweat. Something deep, dark, and unmistakably masculine. Her pulse went erratic. He was doing it again on the very same night. Shameless guy definitely, but undeniably handsome. Stealing her air. Stealing her control. And this time she felt she was falling.

The heat between them crackled, unseen but undeniable. He didn't touch her—he didn't need to. He just stood there, holding her hostage with his eyes, his presence alone enough to wreak havoc on her senses. She closed her eyes to avoid his gaze. She stood like that for seconds. Neither did he touch her nor say anything. What the hell was he doing standing so close?

She didn't want to admit it, but something fluttered inside her. His presence was messing with her thoughts. She couldn't let him see it. She opened her eyes. Now he had moved back and stood a couple of feet away.

She calmed her senses and said, "You said you wouldn't take advantage of me or use your strength against me," she accused.

Karthik's reply was instant. "Did I touch you?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. No, he hadn't. But if not that, then what was he doing?

Her eyes narrowed. "Then were you trying to seduce me?"

He shook his head, exhaling lightly, then glanced at the mirror behind her. Curious, she turned—and froze. The words written on the mirror were gone.

Her eyes flicked to the T-shirt in his hand, now smudged with red. Realization hit. He had only come close to her to erase it.

She scowled. "This is cheating..."

His smirk deepened. "And how did I cheat?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She had no argument. He hadn't touched her, hadn't done anything inappropriate. He had simply wiped the mirror... while she happened to be in the way.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

He leaned down and whispered on her ears, "Hridhaya I dint try to seduce you. But if you get seduced by seeing me without a shirt, then that's going to happen very often."

He stepped closer, his breath warm against her ear. His voice was deep, "Because we're going to share the same room."

He stepped back, smirking, and casually made his way to the bed, stretching out as if nothing had happened.

What the hell just happened?

Her body was trembling—not from fear, not from anger, but from something far more dangerous. A feeling she couldn't name. A storm raging beneath her skin, igniting parts of her she had no control over.

He hadn't crossed the line. He hadn't done anything.

So why did it feel like he had? Maybe if he had touched her inappropriately, she could brand him as a pervert. But neither sometime back or now, he never touched her in wrong places. Sometime back too he just held her wrists tightly and did nothing more. If he wanted he could have done anything to her because of his physical strength. But like a gentle man he stayed there. Not entirely a gentle man, a bit of a an asshole too, flaunting his chiseled naked torso. Yet something felt different now. Something that has changed in the last few minutes. She was always able to hate Karthik whole heartedly. Now what happened that shifted everything? She questioned herself.

Why did his words, his nearness, his scent—everything about him—send a tremor through her, making her forget that she was supposed to despise him?

This was Karthik.

Her unproclaimed enemy.

The man who drove her insane, who pushed all her buttons, who made her want to claw his smug face off half the time.

And yet...

Her pulse refused to settle now.

Her mind refused to make sense of the way her heart had slammed against her ribs when he had leaned in, when his voice had dipped into something low and sinful.

No.

This was not happening.

Without another thought, she turned sharply, her legs carrying her straight to the couch. She grabbed the throw blanket, yanking it over her head, cocooning herself in its warmth, as if that alone could shield her from the aftershocks of whatever had just happened.

She curled into herself, squeezing her eyes shut, willing her mind to stop replaying that moment.

The way his voice had whispered against her skin.

The way his breath had stolen hers.

The way she had felt.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

She gritted her teeth, gripping the blanket tighter.

He was nothing but trouble.

A dangerous, insufferable man who had no place inside her thoughts.

And yet, even as she lay there, forcing herself to think of anything else, her body refused to listen.

Because deep down, no matter how much she denied it—

Something inside her had just shifted.

And there was no turning back.

***********

Karthik woke early, his eyes instinctively drifting toward the couch. Empty. A frown creased his forehead. He checked the bathroom—nothing. Maybe she had gone out? But it was barely 4:45 a.m.—too early for a casual stroll. That's when he noticed the faint glow from the balcony.

Stepping outside, he found her sitting there on the floor, wrapped in silence. Her gaze was fixed on something in the distance. She barely acknowledged him, only offering a small nod. Following her line of sight, he saw it—her home. The house she had lived in all her life.

He lowered himself onto the chair beside her. "Missing home already?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. She gave him a weak smile, then turned back toward the house.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know how you girls do it," he admitted. "Leaving your home to build a new one in a stranger's house. I have lived in Singapore for sometime, but I never really stayed in anyone's home. But you, my mom, your mom...hats off to you."

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "You know, from the moment a girl is born, she's told—one day, you'll have to leave. Over and over, until it becomes a fact of life. But when the day actually comes..." Her voice trembled. "It still feels like a piece of your soul is being torn away." She swallowed hard. "And the worst part? Everyone expects you to smile through it. Like it's normal. But it hurts like hell."

Karthik stared at her, a strange tightness in his chest. "I won't pretend I understand," he murmured. "But I get that home isn't just walls—it's people. It's warmth. And I know you miss your mom and brother. And with them leaving soon... it must be difficult."

"It must be hard, never having lived without them. And now, on top of that, you have to deal with this overgrown gorilla...," Karthik said with a small smirk, trying to lighten the heaviness in the air.

Hridhaya let out a weak chuckle, but her eyes betrayed her. Tears welled up, blurring her vision as she stared at him, overwhelmed with emotions she couldn't quite put into words. It was too much—all of it. The weight of leaving home, the uncertainty of this new life, and her family members leaving for abroad.

A tear slipped down her cheek just as he spoke again. "If you want to hug me, I won't judge you. i will not accuse you of trying to seduce me." His deep chuckle rumbled in the quiet air.

She rolled her eyes but didn't look away. Not this time. A beat passed, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in, burying her face in his chest.

Karthik stilled for a moment before his arms wrapped around her, his palm moving in slow, soothing circles over her back. She closed her eyes, letting out a small whimper, feeling the warmth of his hold, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"You're strong, Jhansi Rani," he murmured, his voice softer now. "You'll handle this."

She nodded silently. After few seconds, she wiped her tears and pulled back just enough to look up at him, a small, teasing smile curling her lips. "My only struggle is handling you. But don't worry, my suitcase arrives soon."

He narrowed his eyes. "And?"

"It has rat poison in it," she said sweetly.

He shoved her playfully. "Vindictive witch! I knew it!"

Laughter bubbled between them, the weight in the air slowly lifting. Then, with a small sigh, he reached for her again, pulling her back into his arms, tighter this time.

"I know we're going to drive each other crazy," he admitted. "We'll argue, irritate each other, and test each other's patience. But trust me on this, Hridhaya... I'll be there when you need me."

Something shifted in her chest at those words. For the first time, she smiled at him—not out of defiance, not out of amusement, but something real. Something dangerous.

She nodded, then said with a straight face, "thank you. But I'm not sure."

His brows furrowed. "Not sure about what?"

She smirked. "Not sure if the rat poison will work on overgrown gorilla like you. I should have more options."

He groaned, shaking his head. "Seriously... you're an evil chudail [witch]."