𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

Chapter 33

You know what's unfair?

Looking at your boyfriend, who also happens to be your professor, act like he's not completely in love with you in front of the whole class—while looking like he just walked out of a dark academic romance novel.

Because Rudra Sir—ugh, Rudra—was currently standing at the front of the class, giving instructions for the quiz like he wasn't the same man who dropped me home last night with a kiss on my forehead and a puppy in his arms.

My fingers tapped nervously on the desk, not because I was scared of the quiz, but because I couldn't stop thinking about that teasing text he sent me during class.

"Simba's grounded. For distracting you."

Excuse me?

Who told him to be this cute? This dangerous?

I peeked up from my paper, just for a second. And there he was—arms crossed, stern face, eyes scanning the class like a hawk. Cold. Calculated. Professor mode: 100/100.

But the moment his gaze brushed over mine—

Boom.

My heart skipped. Because that tiny smirk he always fought to hide? Yeah, it showed.

I bit my lip and looked down, cheeks burning. I couldn't even focus on the quiz anymore.

What is the square root of "I think I'm in love with my maths professor"?

I scribbled an answer that may or may not have been based on emotion instead of logic.

Then... I did something impulsive. I tore a small piece of paper and wrote:

"Dear Mr. Khadoos,

Stop looking at me like that. I'm forgetting how to divide."

I folded it and stealthily passed it toward the front row under the disguise of "asking for an eraser." Thank god for Anjali, my trusted distraction queen.

A few moments later, as Rudra collected the papers, I caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes when he picked up mine and the small note hidden under it.

He didn't react. Not in front of everyone.

But just before walking out, he turned back to the class.

"Those who didn't do well, be ready for remedial class... especially you, Miss Raichand."

I gasped. "What!?"

The class snickered.

He winked.

OH. MY. GOD.

I swear, I'm never going to survive this man.

I was pacing outside the Maths department like a total maniac.

"Remedial class," he said.

"Be ready," he said.

For what?! Torture? Embarrassment? Or maybe another round of those intense stares that make my brain short-circuit?

I peeked inside the empty classroom. He wasn't there yet. My phone buzzed.

Khadoos Sir:

"Room 306.

Come prepared.

And don't bring that 'puppy eyes' excuse with you."

I may have smiled at that.

Okay. I definitely did.

So I walked in—trying to act all cool and calm—but immediately forgot how to breathe.

Because there he was.

Rudra stood by the window, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy, glasses perched on his nose. The golden sunlight spilled through the blinds like a scene straight out of some forbidden love story.

I shut the door quietly, but he didn't turn around. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry," I said, slipping into a seat. "Was mentally preparing for torture."

He finally turned, arms crossed. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you... only slightly."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're enjoying this."

He smirked. "What gave it away?"

I huffed. "You know, if this is revenge for that note, you're being dramatic."

He walked toward me, slowly. Each step felt like it echoed in my chest.

"Dramatic?" he leaned in, resting one hand on the desk. "You passed me a love letter disguised as a complaint during class."

"It wasn't a love letter!" I whisper-shouted.

"Sure. That's why you drew three tiny hearts next to my name."

I gasped. "I—You—That was unintentional!"

He chuckled, low and teasing. "Mhm. Sit straight, Miss Raichand. Let's begin."

I groaned and flipped open my notebook. "This is bullying."

He took the seat next to mine instead of the teacher's desk. "Correction. This is remedial affection."

I blinked. "Is that even a thing?"

"It is now."

And then we both just... paused.

There was a beat of silence. Just him and me in a quiet room. His hand brushed against mine while he turned the page of my notebook—and I swear, even the air held its breath.

Neither of us moved away.

Instead, his fingers slowly curled around mine under the desk. Secret. Soft.

He looked straight ahead, pretending to explain the question, but whispered, "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

I smiled. "Good. We're even then."

He shook his head, laughing softly. "Finish this sum. And maybe, just maybe—I'll reward you with a kiss."

My pen dropped.

This man is evil.

And I'm in serious trouble.

I was still recovering from the shock of his "reward" comment when Rudra leaned forward from behind me, his hand reaching out to adjust the angle of my notebook.

"You wrote the equation wrong," he said, voice low—right near my ear.

My breath hitched.

I could feel the warmth of him behind me. His chest almost brushing my back, his cologne wrapping around me like a storm I didn't want to escape. My brain? Gone. Erased. Poof.

"Where?" I managed to ask, trying not to melt right there.

His hand moved slowly, brushing against mine as he pointed to the step. "Here. You multiplied instead of squaring this value."

I nodded like I understood—which I didn't, because all I could think about was how close his lips were to my neck.

"Focus, Little Furball," he whispered, and I felt his smirk more than I saw it.

"You leaning like this is not helping," I whispered back, trying to stay sane.

He chuckled softly, then leaned even closer—his breath warm against my skin. "Then maybe I should lean more..."

I turned my face a little to give him a glare—but miscalculated. Our noses brushed. My eyes widened. His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest second, and I forgot how to blink.

A beat passed. And another.

Then he straightened up slowly, clearing his throat, but I caught the tiny twitch in his jaw—he wasn't unaffected either.

"You've got five minutes to finish that sum," he said, now back to his cold-professor tone. "Or no reward."

I blinked up at him, trying to process both math and the chaos in my chest. "That's blackmail."

"Think of it as... motivation."

I grabbed my pen, cheeks burning, heart racing.

How the hell am I supposed to solve equations when Mr. Khadoos is using flirting as psychological warfare?

I scribbled furiously, doing the sum like my life depended on it—or maybe because I was determined to earn that so-called reward.

Rudra stood nearby, pretending to look through his file, but I could feel his eyes on me. Every second. Every breath.

"Done!" I said, louder than necessary, pushing my notebook toward him like I'd just submitted a board exam.

He raised a brow, slowly walking over. "Hmm... let's see."

He bent down again—thankfully not as close this time—and scanned the solution. "Correct," he murmured, tapping the page.

I grinned. "Told you I can do it."

"You want your reward?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

I leaned back smugly. "Obviously."

He gave me a look that made my heart skip a few beats. Then, without another word, he stepped closer, cupped my cheek gently, and leaned in.

My breath caught.

And then...

His lips brushed mine. Soft. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world. A warm shiver ran down my spine, and my fingers gripped the edge of the table.

When he pulled away, it was only by an inch.

"There's more where that came from," he whispered, "if you keep solving sums like that."

I blinked up at him, stunned and speechless for once in my life.

Rudra smirked. "Now that's what I call extra marks."

And just like that... I was gone. Fully. Completely.

Not in love.

Fallen.

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