Chapter 15
Sana
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I let out an exasperated groan.
A small shred of guilt gnaws at me for doubting Aditya’s intentions, but at the same time, I can’t shake off the annoyance.
Seriously, did that jerk really think dumping a huge sum of money into my bank account to cover my loan was the solution?
I’m more than capable of handling my own problems. Deep down, I understand where he was coming from.
He was simply trying to be a good friend, with no ulterior motive.
But to me, it was completely unacceptable.
My self-respect and independence weren’t up for debate, and if we were truly friends, he needed to respect that.
Amid the chaos running through my mind, a small smile tugs at my lips as his face flashes before me.
Of how he had asked if we were good, looking hopeful.
I just couldn’t bring myself to say no and hurt him.
It didn’t erase my frustration entirely, but it made it damn near impossible to stay angry at him.
God, I really need to figure out how to stop arguing with him if we’re actually giving this friendship a real shot.
Maybe if he weren’t such an arrogant, high-handed jerk, we might actually get along.
But I guess it is what it is. Being bossy is just part of who he is.
I just need to figure out how to deal with it without feeling like strangling him.
“Planning my murder, are you?” Aditya’s voice catches me off guard. I spin around and meet his gaze, and in an instant, my heart kicks into overdrive. Stupid heart.
Channelling my brave demeanour, I place my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes. “I don’t recall inviting you to my house, least of all to my room.”
He shrugs. “I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling about the argument we had. And even though you said we were good, I needed to come and see for myself.”
God, this man really knows how to keep me on edge. I let out a sigh.
“Aditya, I already told you we’re fine. You didn’t have to come all the way here just to check. A call would’ve been enough.” But despite my protest, a small part of me softens knowing that he actually did.
“Maybe I didn’t have to, but I wanted to,” he replies, stepping further into my bedroom before casually settling onto the edge of my bed as if he belonged there.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I say dryly, crossing my arms.
“You certainly know how to make someone feel welcome,” he grins, casually leaning back on the bed with his palms resting on it.
“By the way, your mom asked me to tell you she’s going to the temple and then visiting a friend.
She’ll be gone for a while.” With a smirk, he pats the spot next to him.
“Now, why don’t you sit down instead of glaring at me? ”
I roll my eyes but take a seat opposite him in my study chair, refusing to sit beside him.
“I honestly don’t know how you manage to run your business.
What’s even more amusing is imagining what your parents would think if they knew how their ‘capable’ son spends his time chasing women.
I’m sure they’d start brainstorming ways to tie you down. ”
Something shifts in his expression, the usual playfulness in his eyes replaced by something—something that tugs at my chest. But I don’t question him. I pause, choosing not to push, giving him the space to speak when he’s ready.
He looks down, runs a hand through his hair, and then meets my gaze, as if debating whether to share what’s on his mind. I give him a silent nod, signalling that he can trust me.
“My parents love me,” he begins, his voice softer than before.
“They’ve given me everything—comfort, security, a life most people would envy.
But with that love comes expectations… ones I never really questioned…
until now.” He pauses, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasps his hands tightly, his eyes never leaving mine.
“For them, it’s always been about status, money, and what society thinks of you.
That’s how they measure success. That’s how they measure people. And for the longest time, I did too.”
I remain silent as he exhales sharply, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips.
“That’s why the women in my life were always…
the same. They fit into that world. They knew how to be selfish and not care about anyone’s feelings.
They lived by it. For them, all that mattered were the things I was taught to care about—power, connections, prestige. It was simple… uncomplicated.”
He shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “But lately… I don’t feel comfortable anymore. I feel like I’m drowning in something that doesn’t even give me happiness.”
I swallow, my chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. “Aditya…” I whisper, but he shakes his head, his gaze locking onto mine.
“I don’t want something that looks good on the outside but feels empty on the inside,” he admits, quietly.
“I want something real. Something that doesn’t need a label or a price tag to mean something.
Something that—” He hesitates and then swallows hard.
His next words are almost a confession. “—something that actually feels like home.”
I don’t know what to say. I open my mouth, then close it again, my own emotions swirling inside me as I hold his gaze.
He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know when it happened… but somewhere along the way, I started wanting something more. Something real. And for the first time in my life… I don’t know what to do about it.”
My heart twists at his words. Is that the reason he proposed to me? Is it really what I’m thinking? Am I the one who makes him feel real?
Nervously, I meet his gaze. There’s an intensity in his eyes that feels like it’s pulling me closer. I know exactly where this conversation is headed, and it’s a place I don’t want to go—a place neither of us should. I should put a stop to it here before it spirals further.
Shaking my head, I force a small smile. “How about we go for lunch? There’s a Chinese restaurant down the road that I love,” I suggest, my voice deliberately light, as if that could erase the awkwardness hanging between us.
Aditya blinks at the sudden shift in the conversation, his expression unreadable for a moment before he repeats, “Lunch?” His lips twitch into a smirk, his amusement evident.
“Yes, lunch,” I insist, standing up quickly before he can say anything else. “You know, the thing people do when they’re hungry?”
He studies me for a moment, and for a brief second, I think he might confess it again. Tell me that it’s me he wants. Maybe, deep down, I want to hear it too. Though I’ve heard him say it before, I still crave those words.
But then he sighs, shaking his head. “Alright,” he says, standing up as well. “Lunch it is.”
I turn away before he can catch the disappointment in my eyes. For now, I guess food is easier to deal with than the tension crackling between us.
“Why don’t you wait in the living room? I just need a few minutes to change into something more comfortable,” I say, gesturing towards my formal dress.
Aditya raises an eyebrow. “You look fine to me.”
I roll my eyes. “And you clearly have no idea how uncomfortable this is.”
“Got it. I’ll be waiting, but don’t take too long. Or I might just come back to peek,” Aditya teases, his smirk full of mischief.
I shoot him a pointed look. “Don’t you dare.”
With a chuckle, he raises his hands. “No promises.”
I huff, placing my hands on my hips. “Leave, mister. I really need to change out of these clothes, and you’re not getting a free strip show.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, my eyes widen in horror, and I slap a hand over my lips, silently cursing myself. Damn me and my big mouth.
Aditya freezes for a moment, then his gaze darkens, heating up.
Slowly, deliberately, he steps towards me.
My heart leaps into my throat, every instinct screaming at me to move.
But I can’t. I just can’t. He comes to stand in front of me and my breath catches in my throat.
His scent—warm, masculine and maddeningly familiar—engulfs me, making my pulse falter.
My body betrays me. My core clenches painfully, a reaction I have no control over.
His hands come up, warm and firm as they cup my face, his thumbs grazing my skin with a tenderness that sends shivers down my spine.
“I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Sana,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint. “But this smart mouth of yours is making it damn hard for me to stay in check.”
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears. My mind screams at me to step back, to regain control, but my heart—the traitorous thing—wants nothing more than to close the distance between us.
Before I even realise it, my eyes flutter shut, my breath shaky as I surrender to the moment, wanting for once to follow my heart’s desire without overthinking what’s right or wrong. I don’t say a word, but I hope… God, I hope he understands what I’m asking for without me having to say it.
And as if sensing my silent plea, he gently cradles the back of my neck and pulls me toward him, his lips crashing onto mine.
The kiss is hot, all-consuming, and utterly intoxicating. A jolt of desire surges through my body like an electric current, and I grip his shirt for support. His tongue teases mine, demanding and relentless.
OMG, is this what it feels like to be kissed? I’ve never felt anything like this before. Wild. Fulfilling. Addictive. But whatever it is, it feels so... amazing.
His arms tighten around my waist, pressing me against him, and just like that, every rational thought slips away. I know I should pull back, that I should stop this before it goes too far—but I can’t.
I don’t want to.
I’m lost, drowning in the passion, in the desperate, urgent way he kisses me—as if he has to, as if he needs this, needs me, just to breathe.
My breathing grows ragged as his lips leave mine, trailing down my jaw until they find the sensitive skin of my neck. A soft gasp escapes me, and my body arches instinctively into his touch.
“God, I want to make you mine this very second,” he rasps against my skin.
His words send a fresh wave of heat through me.
But then, I feel his hands begin to slip under my shirt, his fingers brushing my bare skin, slowly creeping up my stomach.
The sensation sends a shock through me, and suddenly, I’m jolted back to reality.
My eyes fly open, my breath still uneven, but my mind finally catches up to what’s happening.
“Aditya… stop,” I stammer, pressing my hands against his chest.
He freezes, his hands slipping out from under my shirt as he pulls back just enough to search my face. His eyes, dark with longing, now hold something else—concern, even guilt.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost control,” he says, his voice softer now.
“It’s fine. Just… let’s forget it happened and leave it here,” I murmur, looking away, my hands still resting against him, as if the contact is the only thing keeping me grounded.
His fingers gently hook under my chin, tilting my face back up to his. “No. I won’t forget, and I won’t let you either.” He exhales slowly. “You know there’s something between us. Then why are you so scared to give us a chance? What more do I have to do to prove that I truly want you?”
I swallow hard, my chest tightening as I struggle to find the words. “Because this… this is wrong. We just can’t…”
“Don’t you dare say that,” he says firmly, his eyes burning into mine. “It’s not wrong. And you know it.”
I blink rapidly, emotions warring inside me, but he doesn’t let me pull away.
“Sana, I won’t push you,” he continues, his thumb grazing my skin in slow, soothing circles. “I’ll give you all the time you need to catch up, to figure this out. But don’t tell me this is nothing. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”
My heart clenches painfully at his words, because I do feel it. I feel it in every stolen glance, in every heated exchange, in his every touch.
“I’m scared,” I admit, shakily.
His eyes soften, and he leans in just enough for me to feel his breath against my lips. “Then let me be the one thing you don’t have to be scared of,” he murmurs. “I’ll wait. For as long as it takes.”
The sincerity in his voice leaves me breathless. And in that moment, it hits me. Aditya isn’t the one I’m afraid of. It’s me. It’s what I feel for him. It’s what happens if I give it a chance.
Before I can open my mouth to say that I don’t know if I have it in me to give whatever this is between us a chance, Aditya beats me to it.
“I’m going for now,” he says. “I know lunch is something you won’t be comfortable with.”
I part my lips, about to say thank you for understanding, but before I can, his hands move to cradle the sides of my neck, his thumbs brushing over my skin with a tenderness that completely disarms me.
My breath catches as his gaze holds mine.
Then, without another word, he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.
A kiss that speaks of patience, restraint and emotions—letting me know he’s here, that he’s willing to wait, even if it hurts him to do so.
When he pulls away, his fingers linger for just a second longer before he steps back and walks toward the door. He doesn’t look back. He just shuts the door behind him, leaving me standing there, staring at the door, my heart pounding in my chest.
As I stand there frozen, a terrifying realisation hits me.
Can I really walk away from the one person who’s actually willing to stand by me?