𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

Chapter 24

I hate rain. I hate how it soaks my clothes, makes my hair a mess, and ruins my entire day. But right now? I think I hate something else more.

I hate how my heart is beating so fast.

I hate how Rudra draped his jacket over me like it was nothing.

I hate how his shirt is clinging to his body, the fabric soaked, making him look like he walked right out of some slow-motion movie scene.

Most of all, I hate the way he's looking at me right now.

Like he sees something I don't even understand yet.

The air between us is thick with something I don't have a name for, and suddenly, walking home in the rain doesn't feel like such a bad thing anymore.

I wrap his jacket tighter around me, feeling the lingering warmth from his body. "You didn't have to do that," I mumble, avoiding his gaze.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You'll get sick if you stay wet for too long."

I peek at him through my lashes. "And what about you?"

His lips curl into that infuriating smirk. "Worried about me, little Furball?"

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "No. I just don't want to be responsible for my professor catching pneumonia."

His smirk deepens. "Right. Of course. Just looking out for your professor."

Why does he say it like that?

Why does it feel like he's teasing me with something I can't put my finger on?

I shake my head, forcing my attention back to the road. The rain is still coming down, and the streets are quieter than usual. It feels like it's just the two of us, walking through a world that suddenly belongs to no one else.

And then—just my luck—I step on a particularly slippery patch of pavement.

The world tilts.

I barely have time to gasp before strong hands grip my waist, steadying me before I can even think about falling.

My breath catches as I find myself pressed against Rudra's chest, my hands gripping his soaked shirt. His fingers tighten just a little on my waist, like he's making sure I'm really okay before he lets go.

But he doesn't let go.

Not immediately.

For a second, we just stand there, our bodies close, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it. His eyes flicker down to mine, unreadable, intense. The sound of the rain fades, the world shrinks, and it's just... us.

"Careful, Furball," he murmurs, his voice lower, rougher than usual. "Wouldn't want you to fall for me."

I suck in a sharp breath. "You—"

His smirk returns, but there's something different about it this time. Like he's testing the waters. Like he's waiting for me to say something—do something.

I should shove him away. I should roll my eyes and call him insufferable like I always do.

But for some reason, I can't move.

For some reason, I don't want to.

The rain drips from his hair, trailing down his jaw, and before I can stop myself, my eyes follow the path of a single drop as it slides down his neck.

I snap my gaze back up, my face burning.

Big mistake.

Because now his eyes are locked onto mine, and suddenly, I feel like I've walked straight into something I don't know how to escape from.

His fingers twitch against my waist before he finally—finally—steps back.

The loss of warmth is almost jarring.

I clear my throat, forcing a laugh. "Wow. That was dramatic."

He raises a brow. "You almost cracked your skull on the pavement, and you think I'm dramatic?"

I cross my arms. "You are dramatic! Who even says things like 'Wouldn't want you to fall for me' in real life?"

He smirks again, that maddeningly confident look on his face. "You're still thinking about it, though."

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.

I hate him.

I push past him, marching ahead, ignoring the way my face feels like it's on fire. "Come on, Khadoos, I want to get home before I turn into a human icicle!"

He chuckles, easily falling into step beside me. "Alright, alright. But just so you know, Furball..."

I glare at him. "What now?"

His eyes gleam with mischief. "Next time you want to throw yourself at me, at least wait until we're indoors."

I gasp, grabbing his arm to smack him—only for him to dodge, laughing as he jogs ahead.

"Rudra!" I yell, chasing after him in the rain.

And somehow, despite the storm, despite the wet clothes and my half-done math problems still waiting for me at home—

I can't stop smiling.

I don't know when it started.

Maybe it was the way he always found a reason to tease me, even when I was being a total mess. Maybe it was the way he looked at me sometimes, like he knew exactly what was going on in my head before I even said a word.

Or maybe it was moments like these—running through the rain, laughing, chasing after him like we weren't student and professor, like we weren't supposed to have any connection beyond a classroom.

But we did.

And that scared me.

By the time we reached a small tea stall, both of us were drenched. The rain hadn't let up, and we had no choice but to wait it out. Rudra ordered two cups of chai without even asking me, like he knew I needed one. And maybe that should've annoyed me.

But it didn't.

Instead, I watched him—how he casually leaned against the wooden counter, his hair wet and messy, his shirt still sticking to him in a way that was way too distracting.

"Furball, stop staring," he murmured, not even looking at me.

I nearly choked on air. "I—I wasn't!"

He smirked, finally turning to me. "Really? So you just like looking at me when I'm not paying attention?"

I groaned, hiding my face behind my hands. "Shut up, Khadoos."

His chuckle was low, amused, and for some reason, it made my stomach flip.

I hated this.

I hated how comfortable it felt. How natural it was to be here with him, as if we weren't completely different people from different worlds.

The chai arrived, and I took a sip, letting the warmth chase away the chill from my bones. But it did nothing to calm the thoughts swirling in my head.

I liked him.

The realization hit me like a truck.

I liked Rudra.

My professor.

My annoying, khadoos, impossible-to-ignore professor.

I stole a glance at him, my heart hammering in my chest. He was focused on his chai, unaware of the absolute chaos he had just created inside my head.

Oh god.

This was bad.

This was so bad.

I needed to snap out of it. Fast.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to say something normal, something that would make me feel less... this.

"So, do you always buy Chai to your students, or am I just special?" I teased, raising a brow.

He looked at me, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You have no idea how special you are, Furball."

My breath caught.

No. No, no, no. He couldn't say things like that. Not when I was already battling my own thoughts.

I forced a laugh, looking away. "You're impossible."

"And you're predictable," he shot back.

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He smirked, taking another sip of his chai. "It means, for all your attitude, all your arguments—you like this. You like our little fights. You like how I get under your skin."

I scoffed. "In your dreams, Khadoos."

His smirk deepened. "Maybe."

I stared at him, my pulse going crazy. He was teasing me. He had to be teasing me.

Right?

Right.

I needed to get home. Immediately. Before I did something absolutely stupid—like admit that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

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