𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

chapter 21

*Target vote 50+

*Target comment 15 +

I woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun streaming through the curtains, warming my face. Blinking away the sleep, I stretched my arms lazily, my body still exhausted from yesterday's chaos.

Mujhe sach mai laga tha ki main kabhi nahi bachungi. Those men, the way they followed me—it still sent shivers down my spine. But then Mr.khadoos came. Like a damn hero straight out of a novel.

(I thought I was going to survive)

A smile tugged at my lips as I thought about last night. The way he held me, reassured me, stayed until I stopped shaking.

"Ugh, stop it, Maya! Koi romantic scene nahi tha!" I scolded myself, shaking my head.

I got up and dragged myself to the bathroom, freshening up quickly. Aaj ka plan simple tha—exploring the market again. But this time, with Mr.khadoos

The thought itself was strange. He was my professor, my annoying, khadoos professor. But after last night, he felt... different.

Once I got ready, I made my way downstairs, and there he was, standing near the entrance, arms crossed, sunglasses on, looking every bit the brooding hero he was.

"Aaj late nahi hui, kya baat hai?" He smirked, noticing me.

(Wow , you're not late today, what happened?)

I rolled my eyes. "Aapne bulaya toh aa gayi, warna mujhe koi shauk nahi hai aapke saath ghoomne ka."

(You called me that's why I've come, otherwise i don't have any desire to take a stroll with you)

"Haan, haan, kal raat ko toh alag hi scene tha," he teased, making me glare at him.

(Yeah yeah, yesterday scene was totle different)

"Shut up! Chalein?" I huffed, walking ahead before he could say anything else.

We walked through the market, and this time, instead of feeling lost and overwhelmed, I actually enjoyed it. The vibrant stalls, the aroma of street food, the colorful handicrafts—it was mesmerizing.

"Mujhe lagta hai tumhe sirf books pasand hai, woh bhi skeleton wale " he said, picking up a delicate silver anklet from a stall.

(I think you only like books with skeleton with in)

"Mujhe bohot kuch pasand hai, sirf aapko dikhane ka shauk nahi hai," I replied, inspecting the anklet.

(I like many other things, but I am not in mood to tell you)

"Toh phir, yeh pasand hai?" He asked, his voice softer than usual.

(So, you like this?)

I nodded, admiring the intricate design. "Bohot sundar hai."

(It's beautiful)

Without another word, he handed some cash to the shopkeeper and placed the anklet in my palm.

I stared at him in shock. "Yeh kya—?"

(What this-)

"Gift," he said casually, walking ahead.

I blinked, looking at the anklet in my hand. My heart did a weird flip. Yeh banda mujhe confuse kyun kar raha tha?

(This guy is confusing me)

"Agar itni hi pasand hai toh main bhi kuch select kar sakti hoon?" I smirked, moving to another stall.

(If you like this so much then I'll get to choose one too)

He sighed. "Maya—"

"Bhaav mat khao, ab main gift doongi!" I grinned, picking up a keychain with a tiny mathematical equation engraved on it.

(Don't overact , now I'll give you gift)

"Really? Ek keychain?" He raised a brow.

"Mathematics professor ke liye perfect hai," I teased, handing it to him.

(It's perfect for mathamatics professor)

He looked at it for a moment before shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Pagal hoo Tum"

(You are crazy)

"I know," I grinned.

As we walked further, he bought me a kulfi, pointing out the best stalls, making sure I enjoyed every bit of the experience.

And for the first time, I didn't see him as just my professor.

I saw him as Rudra.

The moment she grinned at me, clutching that ridiculous keychain in her hand, something shifted inside me.

Maya. MY LITTLE FURBALL

This annoying, loud, reckless, and completely unpredictable girl was slowly becoming the most captivating thing in my life. And the worst part? I didn't even realize when it started happening.

She walked ahead, her eyes lighting up at every little thing—the colorful bangles, the scent of fresh flowers, the way the streetlights reflected off the vibrant fabrics hanging from the stalls. She was like a child, taking in the world with unfiltered joy, and I... I was just watching her.

It wasn't the first time I'd admired her. But it was the first time I allowed myself to acknowledge it.

"Mr.khadoos, dekho yeh kitna sundar hai!" she called out, holding up a delicate handmade diary. "Kitna artistic hai na?"

(Look Mr.khadoos, it's so beautiful and so artistic)

I smirked, stuffing my hands into my pockets. "Tum likhti bhi ho? Ya sirf khareedne ka shauk hai?"

(Do you even write or just buying?)

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, I write! Just because you've never read anything of mine doesn't mean—"

"Toh likho mere liye kuch," I interrupted, raising a brow.

(So write something for me)

She blinked. "Kya?"

(What?)

"You love writing, right? So write something. Mere liye."

For the first time since we entered the market, she was speechless. Her cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink before she cleared her throat and turned away. "Bohot overconfidence aa raha hai aapko. Pehle sochne toh dijiye ki main likhungi kya."

(You are very overconfident, first let me think what I'll write)

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Chalo, soch lo. Tab tak kulfi khane chalein?"

(Okay, think then. And for now wanna eat kulfi?)

Her eyes sparkled at the mention of food, making me shake my head in amusement. This girl and her love for street food.

I led her to the best stall, ordering her favorite flavor before she could even ask. She raised a brow. "Kaise pata ki mujhe yahi pasand hai?"

(How do u know i like it?)

I shrugged. "Tumhari har cheez annoyingly predictable hai."

(Your every choice is annoyingly predictable)

She gasped dramatically. "How rude! Aapko toh gratitude dikhana chahiye ki main aapko apni company de rahi hoon."

(How Rude, you should be showing gratitude that I'm giving you company)

"Haan, bilkul," I drawled. "Mujhe toh ek award milna chahiye for tolerating your bakwaas."

(Yes for sure, i should have recieved a award for tolerating your nonsense)

She huffed, but her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Fine. No more bakwaas. Bas kulfi."

(Okay, No more nonsense, only kulfi)

And then, silence.

For the first time since we started this trip, she wasn't arguing, wasn't teasing, wasn't annoying me with her endless chatter. She was just... enjoying the moment.

And I was enjoying watching her.

The way her lips curved around the kulfi as she took a small bite, the way her brows scrunched when she tasted the cold sweetness, the way she unconsciously tapped her fingers against the wooden stick as if lost in thought.

She was beautiful.

And it was dangerous how badly I was starting to notice.

I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. "Little furball?"

She looked up. "Hmm?"

I hesitated, then smirked. "Tumhari naak pe kulfi lagi hai."

(You got kulfi on your nose)

Her eyes widened, and she hurriedly wiped at her nose, only to realize I was messing with her. She glared at me, and I laughed. "Mr. Khadoos, aapka sense of humor sudhar raha hai."

(Mr.khadoos, your sense of humor is getting better)

"Tumhare saath rehna pada na, kuch toh asar hoga," I replied smoothly.

(I'm with you so the effect is showing)

She shook her head, mumbling something about how infuriating I was. But the small smile playing on her lips told me she didn't mind.

And as I walked beside her, I realized something.

I liked this.

Not the market, not the crowd, not the noise.

I liked being with her.