𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

Chapter 28

After that confession, I was still in shock. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Rudra freaking Singhania would confess first. But even more surprising? I couldn't stop myself from confessing back.

So now... we were dating.

Secretly.

No one could know—not even Riya or Raj. And knowing my brother, if he found out, he'd probably lose his mind.

I sighed, shaking my head as I brushed through my damp hair. After my shower, I'd shampooed it thoroughly, and now it was soft and fragrant, half tied back while the rest cascaded down my shoulders.

Pulling on a comfortable pair of jeans and a simple kurti, I gave myself one last glance in the mirror. Not too much. Not too little. Perfect for a casual day of secretly dating my professor.

God, what had my life become?

Shoving those thoughts away, I grabbed my bag and made my way downstairs, where Baba and Raj were already at the dining table.

I stopped in my tracks.

No paratha today?

Instead of the usual stuffed parathas drowning in butter, they were eating plain toasted bread with chai.

I raised an eyebrow as I took a seat beside Baba and reached for my cup of chai. "What's up with the sad breakfast?"

Baba sighed dramatically. "Doctor ne kaha tel kam khaya karo." (The doctor said to eat less oil.)

Raj made a face, holding up his dry toast. "Matlab, hum paratha ke bina zinda rehna seekh rahe hain." (Basically, we're learning to survive without parathas.)

I snorted. "That sounds like torture."

"It is torture," Raj grumbled. "Chai bhi bina cheeni ki hai." (Even the chai has no sugar.)

I gasped. "Baba! Ye toh galti se bhi bardasht nahi hota!" (Baba! This is unacceptable even by accident!)

Baba chuckled, shaking his head. "Ek din sabko healthy banna hi padega, beta." (One day, everyone has to become healthy, my child.)

Raj groaned. "Acha ye sab chhodo, tu bata. Maths ka paper kaise gaya?" (Forget all that, tell me—how did your Maths paper go?)

I stiffened slightly but forced a casual shrug. "Better than expected."

Raj narrowed his eyes. "Better? Matlab Rudra Sir kaafi helpful rahe honge, hmm?" (Better? That means Rudra Sir must've been very helpful, hmm?)

I nearly choked on my chai. "K-kya?"

He smirked. "Arre, tu toh usse notes maang rahi thi na? Fir usne help ki ya nahi?" (Oh, weren't you asking him for notes? Did he help or not?)

I quickly looked away, pretending to focus on my chai. "Haan, haan. Help ki." (Yeah, yeah. He helped.)

"Bas itna?" Raj leaned forward, suspicion in his eyes. "Tu toh ekdum ajeeb lag rahi hai. Kahi—"

I kicked him under the table.

He yelped, glaring at me. "Kya kar rahi hai, pagal?" (What are you doing, crazy girl?)

"Chup chaap apni toast kha," I muttered, giving him a warning look. (Just eat your toast quietly.)

Raj huffed but thankfully dropped the topic.

Once breakfast was over, I grabbed my bag and rushed outside, taking a deep breath as I stepped into the fresh morning air.

Secretly dating my professor.

This was going to be interesting.

After Raj dropped me off at uni, I took a deep breath and made my way to Mr. Khadoos' class—aka Mathematics. A part of me had this ridiculous hope that dating the professor would magically make math easier. Maybe my brain would start absorbing formulas just by looking at him?

Yeah. No.

Still nothing.

I sighed, tapping my pen against my notebook as Rudra scribbled equations on the board, explaining something about derivatives. I was trying—I swear I was trying to focus—but how was I supposed to concentrate when he looked like that?

Dressed in his usual crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his strong forearms flexed every time he wrote. His sharp jawline was tense with focus, and his dark eyes—God, those dark eyes—held that usual intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

And yet, no one had a clue that the same man who looked so professional and cold right now had confessed to me just a few nights ago.

I bit my lip, glancing down at my notes and then back at him.

A mistake.

Because at that exact moment, Rudra turned, and our eyes met.

My breath hitched.

For a split second, his professional mask slipped, and the corner of his lips quirked up in the tiniest smile- smirk. The type of smirk and little smile that said, Busted, Little Furball.

Heat crawled up my neck as I immediately dropped my gaze back to my notebook, pretending to be very interested in whatever nonsense I had scribbled there.

But I wasn't the only one stealing glances.

Every now and then, I could feel his gaze on me.

Like when he casually leaned against his desk, arms crossed, his fingers tapping lightly as he spoke to the class—his eyes just barely lingering on me longer than necessary.

Or when he walked past my desk and his voice softened ever so slightly, like he was speaking only to me.

Butterflies. Absolute butterflies.

At one point, he stepped closer and leaned down just a fraction to glance at my notebook. "Miss Raichand," he murmured, his tone amused. "That doesn't look like a math equation to me."

I blinked down at my page.

Oh.

Oh no.

Instead of solving the equation, I had doodled little hearts in the margins.

I slammed my notebook shut so fast that a couple of students turned to look at me. "It's a new method," I whispered, glaring up at him. "You wouldn't understand."

Rudra chuckled under his breath, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. "Mmm. Maybe you should stay after class and explain it to me?"

My heart leaped to my throat.

"You—" I started, but he was already walking back to the board, continuing his lecture like he hadn't just sent me into cardiac arrest.

The audacity.

I huffed, gripping my pen tightly. If he thought he could tease me just because I got a little—okay, a lot—jealous over that external teacher, he had another thing coming.

Two could play this game, Mr. Khadoos.

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