Aakrati woke up before the alarm again.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Something felt different.
Warm.
Steady.
She blinked slowly.
And then she realized.
She wasn't in her bed properly.
Her head was resting against something firm.
Familiar.
Her heart skipped as memory rushed back.
They had fallen asleep watching the mini vlogs.
Together.
Very slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Arsh.
Sleeping.
His head tilted slightly toward hers. One arm loosely around her waist, like even in sleep he hadn't wanted distance.
Her breath softened.
He looked different when he slept.
Less guarded.
No smirk.
No teasing confidence.
Just… calm.
Her fingers moved unconsciously, brushing a small strand of hair away from his forehead.
"You look unfair even when you're not trying," she whispered.
She studied his face quietly.
The sharp jawline that softened when relaxed.
The faint crease between his brows.
The way his lashes rested against his skin.
Her chest tightened.
Why do I like you this much?
As if sensing her stare, he shifted slightly.
Her heart panicked.
His eyelids fluttered.
And without even thinking—
She shut her eyes immediately.
Pretending to sleep.
She didn't even know why she did it.
Maybe she didn't want him to know she had been staring.
Maybe she wasn't ready for the vulnerability in that moment.
She stayed still.
Too still.
She felt him wake up fully.
Felt his gaze on her.
There was a small pause.
Then—
A soft chuckle.
His fingers moved gently to her cheek.
Warm.
Slow.
He traced the curve lightly.
"You're a terrible actress," he murmured.
Her breathing betrayed her.
She opened one eye cautiously.
He was already looking at her.
Not teasing.
Just amused.
"How do you know?" she muttered.
"You stopped breathing."
She gasped lightly. "I did not."
"You did."
She tried to sit up, embarrassed, but his hand remained at her cheek.
"Wake up," he said softly. "I'll take you somewhere."
Her brows lifted. "Where?"
"If I tell you, it's not special."
She studied him for a second.
"Why are you in such a good mood?"
He smirked faintly. "Maybe I like waking up next to you."
Her heart immediately forgot how to function.
She looked away, smiling despite herself.
They sat there for a while after that.
Not rushing.
Just talking.
Random things.
Childhood stories.
Embarrassing school memories.
He listened when she spoke — really listened — eyes focused, chin resting against his hand.
Then the question slipped out before she could stop it.
"Why do you like me, Arsh?"
Silence.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he watched her carefully.
"I don't know," he finally said.
She frowned slightly. "That's not an answer."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"I don't have a reason."
"That's worse."
He smiled faintly.
"I like you because I do. Because you're chaos and calm at the same time. Because you don't try to impress me. Because you look at me like I'm not just… what people say I am."
Her throat tightened.
"And?" she whispered.
"And because when you jump, you trust me."
Her eyes softened.
"That's it?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Isn't that enough?"
She couldn't argue.
She didn't want to.
A slow smile spread across her face.
"Okay," she said softly.
He nudged her lightly. "Now get ready."
They stepped out into the bright morning sunlight again.
The air felt lighter today.
Like something had shifted quietly during the night.
He stopped near the rental counter.
"Do you know how to drive?" he asked casually.
She scoffed. "Of course."
He raised an eyebrow.
She blinked.
"…No."
He laughed softly. "Thought so."
She crossed her arms. "Why?"
He picked up the bike keys.
"Come. I'll teach you."
Her eyes widened. "You trust me with your life?"
"After yesterday?" he replied calmly. "Yes."
That did something to her.
They reached an open stretch of road.
He handed her the helmet.
"You're riding."
Her jaw dropped. "Arsh—"
"I'm behind you."
That sentence alone steadied her.
She climbed onto the bike nervously.
Hands gripping the handle too tightly.
He got on behind her.
Close.
Very close.
His chest lightly brushing her back.
His arms reaching around her to adjust her grip.
"Relax," he murmured near her ear.
Her heart did not relax.
"Clutch slowly," he guided, his fingers covering hers on the handle.
She inhaled sharply at the contact.
The bike jerked slightly forward.
She squealed.
He laughed softly behind her.
"Focus."
"I am focusing!"
"You're panicking."
"I'm not—"
The bike moved more smoothly this time.
He kept his hands near hers, guiding.
His chin almost resting near her shoulder.
"You're doing fine," he whispered.
The road opened ahead.
Wind brushed against her face.
She was riding.
Actually riding.
"Arsh!" she said excitedly. "I'm doing it!"
"I know."
She could hear the smile in his voice.
Gradually, he removed his hands.
Let her control it.
But his presence remained.
Steady.
Warm.
Safe.
She gained confidence.
Laughed out loud.
The sound echoed in the open air.
"This is fun!" she shouted.
He leaned slightly closer, voice low against her ear.
"I told you."
She felt his arms wrap around her waist loosely — not to control.
Just to hold.
And for a second—
She didn't know who was teaching whom.
They rode like that for a while.
No destination.
No rush.
Just the road stretching ahead.
Her heartbeat matched the rhythm of the bike.
And somewhere between fear and thrill—
She realized something.
He wasn't teaching her to ride.
He was giving her control.
Trusting her.
Sitting behind her without needing to lead.
And that felt more intimate than anything else.
When she finally stopped, slightly breathless, she turned to look at him.
"How was I?"
He stared at her for a second.
Wind messing her hair.
Eyes shining.
Cheeks flushed.
"Dangerously good," he said softly.
Her stomach flipped.
She removed the helmet slowly.
"You're not scared?" she asked.
"Of you?" he stepped closer.
"Never."
The air between them thickened slightly.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just intense.
She held his gaze.
"Then don't look at me like that," she whispered.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm… something important."
He didn't look away.
"Maybe you are."
Her breath caught.
And for the first time—
It wasn't adrenaline.
It was something deeper.
Something steadier.
Something that wasn't going anywhere.
They were standing close.
Too close.
The air between them had shifted again.
Her back was lightly pressed against the bike. His hands rested beside her, trapping her just enough to make her heart race.
Neither of them spoke.
His gaze dropped to her lips.
Slowly.
Intentionally.
Her breath hitched.
"Arsh…" she whispered, but didn't move away.
He leaned in.
Just a little more.
Their foreheads almost touching.
And then—
"Aakrati!"
A loud voice shattered the moment.
They both pulled back instantly.
A boy was waving from across the road.
"Aakrati!"
Her eyes widened.
"Krish?!"
He jogged toward them with a huge smile.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, shocked but happy.
Krish laughed. "I should ask you that! This is my place."
"Your place?"
"Yeah. Wanna see? My hotel is nearby."
Arsh stood silent beside her, watching carefully.
Aakrati turned slightly. "Arsh, this is Krish. My childhood friend."
Krish extended his hand confidently. "Nice to meet you."
Arsh shook it — firm, controlled. "Yeah."
"And where exactly is your place?" Aakrati asked Krish.
He pointed toward the road ahead. "The hotel nearby? That one's mine."
She blinked.
"Wait… that's where we're staying."
Krish grinned. "Even better! Then tonight, dinner is with me. Both of you. No excuses."
Aakrati smiled casually. "As you say."
Arsh's jaw tightened almost invisibly.
Krish chatted a little more before leaving. "See you tonight!" he waved and walked off.
The second he was out of sight—
Arsh's hand wrapped around Aakrati's waist.
This time tighter.
Possessive.
He pulled her closer abruptly.
She gasped softly, her hands instinctively resting on his chest.
"We're not eating with him," Arsh said, voice low.
"What?"
"These are our days," he continued, eyes dark with jealousy. "We'll be together. I don't want any rat lingering around us."
She blinked.
Her brain completely blanked.
Not because of what he said.
But because of how tightly he was holding her.
His fingers pressed against her waist.
His body so close she could feel his heartbeat.
"Aakrati."
She didn't respond.
"Aakrati, are you listening?"
"Hnnn… I—I…"
She started stuttering.
Her eyes were fixed on his face.
He noticed.
The anger in his expression softened instantly.
He loosened his grip.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, stepping back slightly. "I didn't mean to…"
She inhaled deeply, trying to return to normal.
"It's okay," she said softly.
There was a small silence.
Jealousy still lingered in the air, but now mixed with something vulnerable.
She looked at him carefully.
"Let's just go somewhere," she said gently. "We'll see about dinner later."
He studied her face.
Trying to understand what she felt.
Then he nodded.
"Fine."
But as they walked, his hand found hers again.
This time not tight.
Just holding.
As if reminding her—
You're mine.