Page 79 of Drunk On Love

“I—” I started.

But the rest never came.

Because the world stopped spinning.

My lungs forgot how to breathe.

There.

Right in front of me.

Like a hallucination.

Like a memory that refused to stay buried.

Manav Oberoi.

Standing there.

Smiling. Looking at me like I was still the only thing he could see in a crowded room.

I blinked once.

Twice.

No. This wasn’t real.

This was a dream. One of those cruel ones I’d had on the plane. The kind where he smiled, whispered to me, hugged me, and stayed.

But then he spoke.

“Hey… baby.” His voice—low, warm, infuriatingly real—curled around me like velvet. “I was looking for you. I came back to finish a call, and you were just… gone.”

Baby?!

BABY?!

My heart went into cardiac gymnastics. Was I hallucinating?!

He did not just call me that.

But before I could even process the mental tailspin, his hand slipped into mine—warm, steady, grounding me in the storm.

He leaned in, breath brushing my ear, voice low and laced with mischief. “You needed a boyfriend, right?”

My heart nearly stopped.

Every thought in my brain screeched to a halt like I’d slammed the brakes on my nervous system.

I turned—wide-eyed, breath caught mid-laugh—and there he was.

Standing at the airport.

Holding coffee.

Looking criminally handsome like it wasno big deal.

He wore the kind of smile that wrecks hearts—soft, boyish, stupidly beautiful. His eyes werelocked onto mine with that familiar intensity, the kind that made my lungs forget how to work.