Page 72 of Drunk On Love

It was time to focus on the future. Right?

Eyes closed, I swayed along with the rhythm, unable to keep from smiling as a lingering thought crept in:What if the birthday boy had kissed me back? Could I have handled that?

A soft voice pulled me back to reality. I looked up to find Manav in the doorway—barefoot, midnight-hour casual, a glass of whiskey in hand. “What are you doing?”

Oh, please. Someone help me.

I can’t handle the cozy, relaxed version of him in the middle of the night.

“Hi… umm… making coffee,” I managed, awkwardly pushing aside the emotional tsunami raging in my mind.

“It’s midnight.” He frowned.

Yeah… I know… I want to stay awake and memorize these moments—because I’m leaving tomorrow.

My heart clenched at the reminder. I always knew my trip to Beaufort was temporary—just a quick visit to see Roy But now, with Dadi’s birthday approaching and all the preparations piling up before I leave for France, there’s so much waiting for me back in Delhi—the manuscript deadline, the screening I can’t afford to miss and an entire life that’s been on pause for too long.

And yet, the idea of leaving feels…heavy.Almost unbearable, if I’m honest.

Should I tell him… I’m leaving tomorrow.

No.

I can’t stand the thought of seeing relief in his eyes—relief that I’ll no longer be cluttering his perfectly ordered world.

“I’m not sleepy,” I finally said, ending the sentence with an involuntary yawn that betrayed just how tired I was.

Wow.

“Where is Myra?” he took a sip from his glass, watching me carefully.

“She is… busy.”

“Elena?” He was watching meverycarefully.

“She just left…”

He set his whiskey glass down on the counter with a quiet clink and leaned into it, elbows resting on the marble like the world was too heavy to hold alone anymore.

His eyes found mine—steady, unblinking—like he was trying to memorize something he wasn’t ready to lose.

And then, after a long, quiet beat, his voice came—soft, almost reverent.

“Cheeseball… thank you.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”

“Everything…” he exhaled, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment—like he was pulling the words from somewhere deep. Somewhere he didn’t go often. “The night you stayed by my side… the chef job you insisted I take… the laughter, the chaos, your obsession with tomatoes…”

He paused, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“… the hugs,” he added softly.

My heart skipped a beat—or maybe three. Anyone would, seeing him like this… so unguarded.

“You forgot one thing—the kiss,” I teased, struggling to keep a straight face.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh no, absolutely not,” he said, shaking his head with exaggerated seriousness.