Chapter 9
Sana
I toss my gym bag into the corner of my room, not caring where it lands, and head straight to my wardrobe.
With a sharp tug, I pull out a fresh white bedsheet.
Frustration pulses through me, fuelling my movements as I move to rip the perfectly clean sheet off my bed.
I spread the new one with quick, almost violent moves, smoothing out every crease as if trying to iron out the turmoil within me.
But it doesn’t help. Even so, I keep going. I need something—anything—to keep myself occupied, to drown out the irritation clawing at my mind.
Damn him for effortlessly working into my nerves, breaking through every line of defense I had. My breaths come short and sharp, my pulse pounding in my ears as his words echo relentlessly in my head. “You’re scared.”
“Ugh!” I groan, tossing the pillow across the room. Why does he even affect me? He’s just someone I barely know—a stranger. More accurately, an infuriating, obnoxious jerk.
Yes, I’ve never been in a relationship. Never felt the need for one. Love, romance… all of it had always seemed like a distraction, something I had neither the time nor space for, especially when my focus had always been on my café.
So why him? Someone I’ve barely met. Someone who should mean absolutely nothing to me? And yet here I’m, caught in this strange, unsettling sensation in my chest—something foreign, something I don’t even want to name.
“Focus, Sana,” I mutter to myself as I drop onto the bed, trying to steady my breathing, my fingers gripping the edge of the mattress.
I try to distract myself, letting my eyes roam around my room in a desperate attempt to calm the storm wreaking havoc inside me, but nothing works. God, what’s happening to me? My room is usually my sanctuary, so why the hell does it feel suffocating today?
I take another deep breath and try to focus again, scanning my room—the warm shades of ivory and soft blush on the walls, the plush beige rug covering the wooden floor, my favourite fairy lights strung along the wall, and my neatly stacked romance novels on my bedside table.
But still, none of it soothes me like it usually does.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing is calming my racing thoughts. My mind refuses to quieten, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t erase the memory of his cocky grin. All I can think of are his words, his closeness, the heat of his touch, and the way all of it made my pulse race against my will.
I squeeze my eyes shut, silently praying for an escape. But I don’t think God is in the mood to grant me peace because, in the next moment, I hear my room door creak open.
I open my eyes to see Mom step in with a smile—one that quickly fades into concern. I’m sure it has everything to do with the look of distraction on my face.
Great! Now I have another thing to deal with. I have to brace myself to dodge all her worried questions.
“Sana, is everything okay?” Mom asks gently as she sits down beside me.
I force a smile, hoping it masks the chaos swirling inside me. “I’m fine, Mom. Just have a lot on my mind with work.”
She runs her hand over my head, her touch gentle and knowing. “Are you sure it’s just work? I know that look, Sana. That’s not your usual ‘work stress’ face.”
God, Mom and her uncanny sixth sense.
“Really, Mom. Nothing’s wrong,” I lie, forcing a reassuring smile. “I just need to get dressed and head to the café. I’ve got a full day ahead of me,” I say, pushing myself to my feet, hoping she doesn’t see through me any more than she already has.
“Sana,” Mom says, taking my hands in hers. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me. You don’t have to carry everything alone on your shoulders.”
I bite my lower lip, hesitating for a split second, torn between confiding in Mom about Aditya and keeping these strange emotions bottled up. But the thought of trying to untangle my feelings for him, of putting them into words, feels like opening Pandora’s box.
Deciding it’s best to keep it under wraps, I offer another quick smile.
“I promise, Mom, it’s nothing. Just some café work. I really need to start getting dressed.”
Mom rises to her feet and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Just don’t let whatever it is eat you up inside. I know you’re strong and can handle anything, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. I’m here whenever you need to talk.”
My heart pounds as Mom’s words cut through my resolve, but I keep my face carefully neutral. “I know, Mom,” I say, my voice steady even as a part of me wavers.
Mom nods. “Get dressed. I’ll have your breakfast ready,” she says before walking out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Once alone, I let out a long breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
‘Get it together,’ I tell myself firmly. ‘You’ve got work to do. Aditya isn’t worth your peace of mind.’
But even as I say the words, a nagging feeling creeps in—like those words won’t hold for long. No matter how much I try to push him out of my mind, I know that deep down... he’ll always find a way back in.
Not wanting to torture myself any further, I shake off the thoughts and head to get dressed, clinging to the hope that work will be the distraction I desperately need.
???
An hour later, I pull up in front of my café. Grabbing my bag, I step out of the car only to freeze in my tracks, a curse slipping from my lips.
Right there, leaning casually against his sleek black Mercedes, is the one person I’ve been trying to push out of my mind.
Aditya.
‘Great. Just what I needed,’ I mutter to myself, my eyes betraying me as they take him in. Sunglasses on, he’s dressed in a plain white shirt that somehow looks custom-tailored to his frame, paired with jeans that mould him with effortless ease.
Seriously, why does he have to look so hot?
‘No, Sana. Don’t be stupid. Don’t let your heart mess with your head. Focus. Ignore him.’ Squaring my shoulders, I give myself a pep talk.
But in the next instant, my heartbeat picks up, and my fingers tighten around the strap of my bag as I watch him straighten, pushing off the car and taking a step towards me, that infuriating signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
The moment he stands in front of me, I fold my arms across my chest and open my mouth to speak before he can say anything stupid.
“You’re here too?” I ask, managing to keep up my brave front even as my pulse betrays me.
He slides off his sunglasses and tucks them into his shirt, his smirk deepening. “I just wanted to wish you a good day. You didn’t give me a chance at the gym, so I figured I’d do it here.”
My jaw clenches. “I’m serious, Aditya. You need to stop following me, and more importantly, stop messing with my head.”
“So I mess with your head?” he drawls, his smirk turning downright smug. “I’m flattered to know I’ve managed to have some hold on you.” He winks, making my irritation spike.
I narrow my eyes, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Annoyance and hold are two very different things. And trust me, you’re only the former.”
“Annoyance? I don’t think so. Because if that were the case, you wouldn’t get this flustered over something that annoys you.
” He steps closer, and I fight the urge to move back, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
His gaze locks onto mine. “I’d bet anything you’ve thought about me more than you’d like to admit. ”
I tilt my head, matching his smirk. “Wow, that’s some serious delusion you’ve got going on. Hate to break it to you, but the only thing on my mind is figuring out how to get rid of you.”
Before he can throw another one of his annoying remarks, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Keeping his eyes locked on me, he pulls it out, taps the screen, and puts it on speaker.
“Hello, handsome,” a sultry, flirtatious voice purrs from the other end. “I was thinking about our night. Damn, you sure know how to use those sexy lips and hands of yours.”
My stomach twists unexpectedly. But before I can even process the feeling, I catch Aditya’s eyes widen and his grin vanishes in an instant. He fumbles to take the phone off speaker, quickly bringing it to his ear.
“Wrong number,” he stammers before abruptly hanging up.
He then looks up at me with a flicker of unease as he slips his phone into his pocket. Not wanting him to read my expression, I quickly school my face into one of pure indifference—one that screams, not my business. Not my problem.
I arch a brow. “Well, well… look who’s flustered now?”
“Sana,” Aditya begins, running a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t what it sounded like. Let me explain.”
“Save it, Aditya,” I cut him off, holding up a hand. “It doesn’t matter, and I really don’t have the time for this. Some of us have actual work to do.”
“Sana, just let me explain,” he pleads, his voice losing a bit of its usual cocky edge.
I shake my head. “Explain what? That you’re so irresistible and have a long line of women pining for your attention?
Please, spare me. I’m not interested.” My breath hitches, but I refuse to let him see how that call has affected me.
Instead, I say, “Here’s a free piece of advice—you can take your marriage proposal to those women who are more than happy to stroke your ego.
That’ll keep you satisfied in the long run, rather than wasting your time on a woman who isn’t interested. ”
Then, without waiting for a reply, I brush past him, my heart pounding as I reach the café door. My fingers fumble slightly as I pull out my key, but I force myself to stay composed, slipping it into the lock and turning the handle.
As soon as I step inside, I shut the door behind me, resting my back against it. I close my eyes, exhaling shakily. Thank God he didn’t follow me. The last thing I need right now is another confrontation, another chance for him to see through the cracks in my armour.
I lean my head back and close my eyes, willing my racing heart to settle. ‘Get it together, Sana. Men like him don’t matter. To them, emotions are just a game.’
My lips press into a thin line. ‘I did the right thing by refusing his nonsense proposal.’ I repeat it like a mantra, trying to convince myself.
But deep down, in that quiet space that knows the truth, a dull sting settles in my chest.
No. I straighten up, pushing the thoughts aside. I don’t need this drama. I’ve built a life I’m proud of, and I won’t let anyone, especially someone like him, mess with it. With a firm shake of my head, I push away from the door and make my way to the counter.
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t quite shake the lingering ache in my chest.