•| FIFTEEN |•
Coming out of the bathroom, you dragged your feet lazily across the room, your damp hair leaving faint droplets on the floor behind you.
The soft cotton of your nightwear clung slightly to your skin, but you were too mentally exhausted to care.
Without even bothering to dry your hair properly, you walked straight to your bed and plopped down on it face-first, the mattress dipping under your weight as a tired groan escaped your lips.
“I really hate myself…” you grumbled into the pillow, your voice muffled as you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration.
But closing your eyes turned out to be the worst mistake.
Because the moment darkness surrounded you, the memories came rushing back — vivid, shameless, unavoidable.
The cramped lift… the sudden jerk… your trembling hands clutching his shirt… his voice softening for you… his arms around you… and then—
His lips.
Your breath hitched involuntarily as your fingers tightened around the bedsheet beneath you.
“No… no, forget it… just forget it…” you whispered to yourself, turning to your side as if physically running away from the thoughts.
But your mind was merciless.
It replayed the scene again… and again… slowing down every tiny detail as if torturing you on purpose.
The warmth of his breath fanning your face… the firmness of his hold… the way your body had stilled before melting against him… the way you had wrapped your arms around his neck without even realizing—
You abruptly opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling as your cheeks burned.
“Why am I even thinking about it so much… it was just to calm me down… that’s it… nothing else…” you tried to convince yourself, though your racing heart refused to cooperate.
You turned to the other side, burying half your face in the pillow this time, your lashes fluttering as exhaustion slowly began creeping in.
Your mind was still restless… still replaying fragments… still arguing with itself…
But your body had reached its limit.
Your eyelids began to feel heavier… and heavier… your thoughts slowly blurring at the edges.
The last thing that lingered before sleep finally claimed you…
Was the memory of his eyes when you pulled away from the kiss — shocked… conflicted… yet strangely gentle.
And with that confusing warmth wrapped around your chest, you finally drifted off to sleep… unaware that the incident you were trying so hard to forget…
Was only going to change everything from here on.
Meanwhile, inside his glass-walled cabin, Krish sat alone in the dim yellow light, his tie loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt open as if he had been suffocating in his own thoughts for hours.
Files lay open in front of him, his laptop screen still glowing — but none of it had his attention.
His mind was stuck… replaying one single moment like a broken record.
The lift. Her trembling hands. Her tear-filled eyes.
And then… the kiss. His jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, dragging both hands down his face in frustration.
“She’ll definitely hate me more now…” he muttered under his breath, staring blankly at the ceiling as guilt and confusion twisted inside his chest.
“Who?”
Krish almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice.
His chair screeched lightly against the floor as he straightened, turning his head sharply toward the door — only to find Aarav standing there casually, one shoulder leaning against the frame, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips as if he had caught something interesting.
“Who will hate you?” Aarav repeated, walking inside without waiting for permission, his eyes scanning Krish’s restless face.
“W-who? No… n-no one,” Krish stuttered instantly, looking anywhere but at him, pretending to shuffle the papers on his desk though they were upside down.
Aarav’s brows slowly rose.
He pulled the chair opposite Krish and sat down leisurely, crossing one leg over the other, arms folding across his chest in that signature “I know you’re lying” posture.
“You know you can’t hide anything from me, right?” he said in a quieter voice, leaning slightly forward, his gaze sharp but amused.
Krish exhaled heavily, realizing there was no point dodging.
His shoulders dropped in defeat as he rubbed his face again, fingers pressing into his temples.
“Samira… she will hate me,” he finally admitted, voice low, frustration laced in every word.
Aarav blinked once… then twice… processing the name.
“Oh?” he hummed, interest instantly piqued. “And why exactly do you care if she hates you? Don’t tell me…” He leaned closer, eyes narrowing playfully. “You like her.”
Krish’s head snapped up so fast it almost looked painful.
“NO!!” he blurted immediately — a little too loudly.
Aarav’s smirk widened.
“I mean— I don’t like her… I mean I do like her but not in that way— I mean… shit…” Krish ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his words tangling worse the more he tried to explain.
Aarav let out a low chuckle, thoroughly entertained now.
“Wow… you’re stuttering. This is serious,” he teased.
Krish glared at him but looked away again just as quickly, jaw clenching.
“It’s not what you think,” he muttered.
“Then explain what I should think,” Aarav said calmly, folding his arms tighter as if settling in for a story. “What happened?”
Krish hesitated.
His fingers tapped restlessly on the desk… then stopped.
His gaze drifted to nothing in particular as the memory resurfaced again — her shaking, clinging to him, whispering she couldn’t breathe…
“…We got stuck in the lift,” he began slowly.
Aarav nodded once, listening seriously now.
“She has claustrophobia… she couldn’t breathe… she was panicking badly…” Krish’s voice softened unconsciously, concern slipping through despite himself. “She was crying… holding me… begging me to get her out…”
Aarav’s teasing expression faded, replaced with understanding.
“So?” he prompted gently.
Krish swallowed.
His next words came out quieter.
“I… kissed her.”
Silence filled the cabin.
Aarav’s eyes widened slightly — not in shock, but in interest.
“What— you guys kissed each other?!” he exclaimed loudly, half standing from his chair, eyes blown wide in dramatic shock before a slow, teasing grin stretched across his face. “Damn, Krish… our cold, emotionless Mr. Mehra is finally doing something interesting in life.”
Krish immediately rolled his eyes, irritation flashing across his face as he leaned back in his chair, trying — and failing — to look unaffected.
“It was just a kiss,” he said flatly, waving it off like it meant nothing, though the slight stiffness in his shoulders betrayed him.
Aarav clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“Bro… maybe it’s ‘just a kiss’ for you,” he said, air-quoting the words sarcastically, “but for her?” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Umm… I think it was her first kiss.”
That sentence landed heavier than Krish expected.
His fingers, which were tapping impatiently on the desk, suddenly stilled.
His jaw flexed.
For a brief second, Samira’s flushed face… her trembling lips… the way she ran away holding her breath… flashed again in his mind — and something unfamiliar twisted inside his chest.
Before he could dwell on it, Aarav casually reached into his blazer pocket.
“Oh right — I almost forgot why I came here,” he murmured, pulling out a thick cream-colored envelope embossed with golden lettering.
He extended it toward Krish.
Krish frowned in confusion but took it anyway, turning it over in his hands.
“What’s this?”
Aarav leaned back, watching his reaction with interest.
“Your wedding card,” he said simply. “You’re getting married the day after tomorrow. Aunty didn’t tell you?”
For a moment…
Krish didn’t react.
As if his brain refused to process the words.
Then his eyes snapped open wide.
“What?” he whispered — not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the air.
He tore the envelope open instantly, scanning the printed details inside.
His grip on the card tightened.
A dozen emotions collided at once — shock, irritation, disbelief… and beneath it all, that same restless unease he had been feeling since the lift.
Without saying another word, he abruptly stood up, chair scraping harshly against the floor.
He grabbed his car keys, phone, and blazer in one swift motion, movements rushed and uncharacteristically uncomposed.
“Krish?” Aarav called, slightly surprised. “Where are you going?”
But Krish was already halfway to the door.
His mind was racing faster than his steps.
Two days.
He hadn’t even spoken to Samira properly since the kiss.
He didn’t know what she felt.
Hell — he didn’t even know what he felt.
He yanked the cabin door open.
“Krish—” Aarav tried again.
But he was gone.
Walking fast down the corridor, jaw tight, wedding card still clenched in his fist — leaving Aarav behind in the silent cabin, staring after him with an amused yet knowing smile.
“Yeah…” Aarav muttered to himself, leaning back in the chair. “That man is completely screwed.”