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What now?Run? Hide? Morph into a decorative lamp?

She thought maybe if she just stayed still, like completely still, he wouldn’t even notice her. The lights were out, after all. He might just walk past her straight to his room. Then she could sneak out quietly like this never happened. Poof. Mystery solved. Problem avoided.

Yes. That was her plan. Flawless.

Until it wasn’t.

Suddenly, she saw him walking straight toward her. Before she could hop off the table or deliver some half-baked excuse, he was right there. Inches away.

Too close.

His presence loomed in front of her, radiating intensity even in the dark.

And then, his hands were on her face.

And before she could say a single word or scream or remind him she was here toyellat him about her grandfather, his lips crashed onto hers.

What. The. Actual. F*ck.

Nandini gasped, her hands instinctively flying to his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt…not to push him away, but to steady herself. Her mind spun, caught in a blur ofwhat-the-hell-is-happeningandwhy-the-hell-does-this-feel-so-good.

She was supposed to yell at him. Not kiss him back.

She was sonotsupposed to melt into Shaurya Ahuja’s kiss like her life depended on it.

And yet… here she was, doing exactly that.

Her body didn’t wait for permission from her brain. It responded like it had been waiting, no… aching, for this very moment. Her lips, startled at first, softened under his. Her breath hitched as his mouth moved with a hunger that left no space for logic, no time for doubt.

There was nothing tentative or hesitant about the way he kissed her. It wasn’t shy or curious. It was intense, like borderline desperate. Like he was pouring every unspoken word, every hidden emotion, into the way he devoured her mouth. As if he needed to prove something. Not to her. To himself.

His hands slid around her waist, strong and warm, and she gasped into him. Her spine arched instinctively, her body leaning into his as if it had always belonged there. Their heartbeats beat in sync, and in that magical silence, her body found its place—its rhythm—against his.

She didn’t know what it meant.

Didn’t know why he kissed her or what would happen next.

And for the first time in forever, Nandini Raichand—the master planner of everything, with a PhD in overthinking, queen of gab, a perennial worrywart—didn’t want to think.

She just wanted tofeel.

And God, what a feeling.

Her legs, which had been nervously crossed atop the table moments ago, slowly uncrossed on their own. And then, he stepped between them like he belonged there, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The contact sent a bolt of heat shooting through her, blooming in her stomach, rising to her throat, making her fingers dig harder into his shirt.

She should stop this.

She should at least say something.

But the words got lost somewhere between the way his tongue traced the seam of her mouth and the way his fingers flexed against her waist, pulling her closer, grounding her, as the world spun out of control.

This wasn’t soft.

This wasn’t sweet.

It was uncharted territory. It was fire. She was burning and was not even trying to save herself.

She still couldn’t believe she was kissing Shaurya Ahuja.