Page 12 of When Love Trespassed
Nandini stood in front of her full-length mirror, assessing her reflection.
She had chosen a red dress that evening—a fitted off-shoulder crop top with delicate lace detailing that hugged her waist just right—and a knee-length chiffon skirt that swayed with every step she took.
The off-shoulder neckline highlighted her graceful collarbone.
Paired with black stilettos and statement silver jewellery, she was all set to welcome the new year with a bang.
New Year’s Eve had always held a special place in her heart.
It symbolised fresh beginnings, renewed hopes and the comfort of spending cherished moments with loved ones.
She adored the little traditions. Like the countdown to midnight, the explosion of confetti, and the heartfelt hugs from family and friends.
The chilly December air, the clinking of wine glasses, and the melodies of celebration created an ambience she eagerly looked forward to each year.
She applied a final touch of gloss to her lips and made her way downstairs, looking for her grandfather.
The house was quiet, and he was nowhere to be seen.
Furrowing her brows, she stepped out into the garden, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself as the cool night air hit her.
Her intuition led her to the mango tree, and there he was.
As expected, he sat there, engaged in a quiet conversation with the tree, his eyes glistening under the soft glow of the garden lights.
Concerned, Nandini approached him gently.
“Daadu, are you alright?” she inquired, noticing the subtle way he wiped the corner of his eye.
Grandpa offered a tender smile, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Just reminiscing about your Daadi,” he admitted.
Moved by his sentiment, Nandini knelt beside him and placed her hand over his.
“I’m missing her too, Daadu. I know how much she loved New Year’s. Just like me.”
He chuckled, the sound resonating with warmth.
“Yes, she did. You know, after the New Year’s party, your Daadi and I would have our own private celebration right here,” he began.
“We’d sit under this very tree, sharing stories of our journey together.
I’d play her favourite songs, and she’d surprise me with my favourite dessert.
Sometimes, we’d even dance under the starts, just the two of us. No music. Just us.”
Nandini’s heart swelled with affection. “That sounds magical,” she whispered softly.
Grandpa’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Did I ever tell you that our first kiss happened on a New Year’s Eve, right here, under this tree?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Really? How did that happen?”
Before he could delve into the tale, Lakshmi Aunty’s voice interrupted them.
“Grandpa, your friends are outside, waiting for you to head to the community hall.”
Grandpa rose, patting Nandini’s hand. “Another time, my dear,” he promised.
She nodded, watching him join his friends. “I’ll bring the gifts for the kids and meet you there,” she called after him.
Left alone, Nandini turned to the mango tree, tracing its bark lovingly with her fingers.
“Daadi,” Nandini whispered softly, her fingers trailing along the rough bark of the mango tree. “Your love story with Daadu... it’s the kind of romance I read about in my silly novels. A first kiss on New Year’s Eve?” Her smile grew wistful. “That’s dreamy. Sexy. So swoony.”
She wrapped her arms around the trunk, the bark cool against her cheek.
“Shower some blessings on your granddaughter too, please. I mean, just a little nudge from above, so I find something like what you and Daadu had.” She giggled under her breath. “You know… someone to kiss on New Year’s Eve who isn’t just allergic to joy and sunlight.”
She pulled back slightly and puckered her lips to place a kiss on the tree’s bark when a sudden awareness prickled at her senses. Glancing sideways, she spotted Shaurya standing by the poolside of his villa, his gaze fixed intently on her.
Nandini instantly straightened like a guilty schoolgirl caught red-handed, passing a note. Her lips were still pursed from the kiss meant for the tree.
Oh. My. God.
He definitely thinks that kiss was for him.
Panicking, she pressed her lips into a flat line and blurted out, “I was… um… kissing the tree. Just so we’re clear.”
Shaurya’s lips quirked into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Did I say I thought it was for me?”
Flustered, Nandini crossed her arms. “You were staring like you did.”
“I was staring because most people don’t make out with their trees,” he mocked, his eyes gleaming with amusement and… something else.
“I wasn’t making out with it,” she hissed, her cheeks flaming. “It was a blessing kiss. A sentimental moment. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Right,” he nodded slowly. “So, I clearly interrupted a very sacred ritual.”
He took a leisurely step closer, the moonlight casting shadows across his chiselled features. He was dressed casually and looked completely unbothered, and nowhere ready for the party tonight.
Curious, and maybe a bit eager to change the subject, Nandini tilted her head and asked, “Are you not coming to the community hall for the New Year’s party?”
A sardonic chuckle escaped him.
“You mean the gathering where your grandfather and his allies exchange jabs about me and the tree dispute, while their wives and daughters sneak glances at me as if I’m a juicy piece of meat? No, thank you. I’d rather avoid that circus.”
Nandini’s temper flared at his snide remark, and before logic could catch up with her fury, she stormed forward, crossing the invisible boundary that separated their two villas—the same invisible line they constantly tiptoed across every time during their bickering.
“You know what your problem is?” she snapped, her heels clicking sharply against the wet stone pathway that wound through his garden. “You think the world revolves around you.”
Shaurya didn’t flinch. He stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking maddeningly calm in a charcoal-grey T-shirt and joggers that clung so snug, reminding her how unfairly well-built he was.
“The world? No,” he drawled. “But Serene Meadows? Absolutely. Lately, this entire community has had nothing else to discuss apart from me and your grandfather’s sacred tree. You wouldn’t understand. You’ve only just returned.”
She glared at him, her eyes glittering with indignation. “So you think you’re the hot topic of this place? You really are the human version of black coffee. Bitter, brooding, and unnecessarily intense. Honestly, why would anyone even want to talk about you all the time?”
She took an angry step toward him, fuelled by the heat of the argument, but the slick marble stones in his garden betrayed her. Her heel skidded on the damp surface, and her balance gave out from under her.
It all happened in a blink.
One moment, she was lunging forward with fire in her voice, and the next, she was mid-stumble. But before she could fall and hurt herself, his strong arms caught her by the waist and yanked her forward, right into his chest.
Her hands instinctively clutched the front of his T-shirt, gripping it like her life depended on it.
His chest was warm and solid beneath her trembling fingers.
She could feel the rapid thud of his heart, or was it hers?
The world blurred for a second as her eyes met his, watching her like they always did—as if he was seeing her for the very first time.
Neither of them spoke. The silence between them thickened, not with awkwardness, but with sizzling tension that crawled up her spine and settled somewhere between her lungs.
He was the first one to break the silence.
“Give me one good reason why I should be attending that community circus tonight.”
Her breath hitched at the sudden change in tone, but her gaze didn’t leave his. For a long beat, she searched his face, reading the cynicism there, but beneath that sarcasm, she also saw something else…the quiet longing he was convincingly hiding.
She took a deep breath and then said, “Because it’s New Year’s Eve.
And with every ending comes a chance to begin again.
If you really want to change the way people here see you, maybe start by just showing up.
Let them know you’re not just a recluse fighting over tree branches.
Let them see the man who lives here, one who’s built a home here.
People connect with people… not property lines. ”
His expression didn’t shift, but his arms slowly loosened around her. Still, he didn’t let go.
She kept going. “New Year’s Eve is always magical. It’s not just about the wine, the confetti, and the countdown. It’s about making peace with the past and having the courage to dream forward. If there’s even a part of you that wants to start over… maybe tonight’s the night.”
For a flicker of a moment, something shifted in his eyes. A shadow of vulnerability. A man caught between logic and hope.
But then it vanished as quickly as it came.
The arms that had softened just seconds ago tensed again, and the hint of sarcasm returned to his expression.
“Thank you for the motivational speech,” he said coolly.
“But I don’t need life lessons from a 25-year-old idealist who still believes the world runs on hope and fireworks.
I’ve lived long enough to know that fresh starts aren’t handed to you in a glass of champagne.
They’re earned. With hard decisions. Not sugar-coated dreams.”
Her stomach sank, but she held her ground. She slowly untangled herself from his hold, pushing off his chest with an audible scoff.
“Fine,” she said, taking a step back. “Stay here. Be the grumpy recluse of Villa No. 11. No one’s going to miss you anyway. I hope your ego finds enough room to breathe in that giant villa of yours.”
She turned sharply on her heel and began to march forward, her heels crunching against the gravel. But before she could fully walk away, something made her stop.