Page 16 of When Love Trespassed

Her brows shot up in disbelief. Seriously? He hadn’t even locked the door?

She pushed it open cautiously and stepped inside, her eyes scanning the dimly lit entryway.

It was quiet… too quiet. Shaurya wasn’t the kind of man to overlook things, especially not something as basic as locking his front door.

Which meant only one thing: he must’ve returned from the party too consumed by whatever storm was raging in his head to even notice.

She hovered just inside the entrance, and suddenly, he froze, her feet rooted to the spot. Her courage faltered.

Was this really the right time?

Would he even want to see her, let alone hear her out?

Maybe he’d slam the door in her face and tell her to get lost. Maybe he’d throw more words at her like he had thrown at her grandfather.

But then again… maybe that was exactly why she needed to be here.

She wasn’t here to blindly defend her grandfather. Not tonight. Because deep down, she knew they were both wrong.

Shaurya had crossed a line, exposing her family’s scars in front of a crowd for everyone to judge and whisper about. And then her grandfather had fired back with something even more personal.

They both didn’t deserve that.

And more than anything, she didn’t want this war between them to keep escalating. It had already gone too far.

If she didn’t speak up now, if she didn’t at least try to clear the air, she knew it would hang between them like poison. Stubbornness was a dangerous thing, especially when paired with wounded pride on both sides.

So no, this wasn’t about demanding an apology.

It wasn’t even about making peace for her grandfather’s sake.

She was here, because tonight, she had seen something else behind all of Shaurya’s anger. A crack in his armour. A vulnerability. And for the first time, she didn’t want to walk away from it.

What scared her more was admitting why .

Because somewhere between their silent stares across their adjoining gardens and the firecracker fights over fallen leaves and fruits, something else had crept in— affection.

Yes, even if it sounded silly and ridiculous.

A feeling she hadn’t been ready to name until now.

A strange, quiet ache for this man who always looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders but never asked anyone for help.

For this grumpy, guarded man who drowned himself in work and isolation as if that was the only way he knew to survive.

Despite everything, she felt for him.

Even when he was utterly infuriating.

Even when his words made her want to throw gardening tools at his head.

She had caught herself thinking about him in ways she shouldn’t—wondering if he ever laughed or if anyone had truly cared for him the way he deserved to be loved and cared for.

And the way her body reacted to him whenever they argued, whenever they clashed, whenever the tension between them practically hummed in the air? That was a whole other conversation she wasn’t ready to unpack.

All she knew was that she couldn’t walk away from this tonight and pretend she hadn’t seen his pain. Or pretend that she didn’t feel something when she looked at him. Even if she was never going to tell him that.

With that quiet confession burning in her chest, Nandini stepped further into the villa, the silence around her mirroring the storm within her.

“Shaurya?” she called softly, stepping in.

No answer.

She glanced around. The place was eerily quiet. Her heels softened over the polished marble as she made her way past the living room and into the dining area.

And there it was, sitting like a trophy at the centre of the table—the brass cake stand. The same one that had sparked yet another petty battle between Shaurya and her grandpa just a few days ago.

She couldn’t help herself; she walked up to it, her fingers brushing lightly over the intricate etched base of the cake stand. Of course, he’d put it on display like some kind of a trophy. So very Shaurya.

But where was he?

Her eyes swept across the room, searching the dimly lit corners.

Maybe he was cooling off in the bathroom after that explosive face-off.

Or possibly sprawled somewhere, though she doubted a man like him actually rested—he didn’t seem the type.

Was he in his home gym again, doing pushups like that unforgettable Christmas night? Or worse… was he not even home at all?

And just when she was thinking, the lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely, plunging the entire villa into darkness.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, startled.

The power outage must’ve hit all of Serene Meadows.

As her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, she spotted a few white candles left unlit on the table.

Without thinking twice, she tried to reach for them.

The only issue? They were far across the table, out of her reach.

Swallowing her nerves, she perched herself onto the edge of the table and leaned forward. She was about to extend her arm to grab the candles when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing in the silence. The front door creaked open once again, and her heart leapt to her throat.

She froze.

She didn’t need to see him to know who it was. The scent of his cologne reached her before he did. A sharp, woodsy note tinged with something darker. Like leather and storm and every infuriating thing about Shaurya Ahuja.

Great! So, he wasn’t home.

Fantastic. Just bloody fantastic.

If he walked in now and found her sitting inside his home like a nosy burglar in red chiffon, he’d definitely think she’d broken in.

Perfect.

Just the kind of impression she’d always wanted to make on a man she barely tolerated but couldn’t stop thinking about.

She knew he would explode the moment he saw her. She panicked silently, her legs glued to the table, her hands clutching the sides of her red dress like it was a parachute and she was about to jump out of a crashing plane.

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 to yell at 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 of what-the-hell-is-happening and why-the-hell-does-this-feel-so-good .

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

She was so not supposed 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 to feel .

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.

And the worst part?

Every second of it felt dangerously right.

Until—

Boom.

A sudden explosion of fireworks erupted outside the villa, loud and colourful, echoing through the chilly December night as the clock struck twelve. Cheers rang out across Serene Meadows as the neighbourhood just stepped into a new year. A fresh beginning. A clean slate.

The glow of fireworks from the sky filtered through the glass walls, painting the room in hues of gold, crimson, and soft champagne hues. And it was in that flash of clarity that reality crashed down around them.