Page 18 of When Love Trespassed

The next morning, Shaurya summoned Varun with the urgency of a man teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

And Varun, his ever-ready, annoyingly smug best friend, was now lounging comfortably on the plush couch in Shaurya’s living room, a steaming mug of coffee in hand and the world’s most ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

“You kissed her?” Varun blinked dramatically, holding the mug mid-air like the moment deserved a toast. “Your neighbour?”

Shaurya raked a hand through his hair and shot him a killer glare. “You don’t need to shout it like I committed murder.”

“I’m not shouting,” Varun said, lowering his voice mock-seriously. “I’m simply trying to process the fact that Mr. Grumpy actually indulged in a midnight lip-lock with Little Miss Sunshine from next door.”

Shaurya exhaled harshly like it physically hurt him. “This is all your fault.”

Varun snorted. “My fault? I wasn’t the one playing ‘guess who’ with his lips. You kissed your neighbour without even checking who she actually was. That’s on you, buddy.”

Shaurya stood up, pacing across the living room like a caged animal.

“That’s because you said you were sending someone here last night for a blind date.”

“I did,” Varun replied, completely unbothered. He was enjoying this too much. “But after all your dramatic texts last night threatening to block me for life if I dared to send anyone, I cancelled the whole thing.”

Shaurya clenched his jaw.

Varun continued, “But even if you thought she was the blind date I sent, who the hell kisses a blind date the second you walk in? No hi, no name exchange, no introduction? You just dove in mouth-first like an alpha hero from some spicy romance novel.”

Shaurya paused, then muttered darkly, “I didn’t know it was her …”

“Oh, clearly,” Varun drawled, sipping his coffee with zero sympathy. “I mean, your track record post-divorce hasn’t exactly been... thriving. But I never knew you were that desperate.”

“Shut up,” Shaurya growled, shooting him a warning glare.

Varun leaned back on the couch, one leg casually crossed over the other, looking positively entertained. “No, seriously, what were you going to do next? Ask her name after the second kiss? Or just propose mid-make-out?”

Shaurya’s jaw ticked as he turned away. “Stop giving me lectures and just fix this, okay?”

Varun raised an eyebrow. “Fix what, exactly? You were the one who kissed her, not me. You fix it.”

Shaurya spun around, pointing a finger at his best friend. “This started because of your stupid idea. You told me I needed to ‘move on.’ Well, now I’ve got a neighbour who might file a sexual harassment complaint against me before noon. So yes, Varun, you fix it.”

Varun rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Okay, fair enough. But before I offer solutions, I need one honest answer.”

Shaurya narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”

Varun leaned forward, surprisingly serious. “Answer me honestly. Did you like the kiss?”

Shaurya’s death stare could’ve burned holes in concrete. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“Yes.” Varun chuckled, back to his usual mischievous self. “Because if the kiss was that good, and she was clearly kissing you back instead of pulling away, then this isn’t a crisis. It’s a bloody opportunity.”

Shaurya dropped into the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t want to get into a relationship again. Especially not with someone as… childish and impulsive as her.”

“Right,” Varun nodded.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Varun shot back. “By the way, just wondering… was there anything childish in the way she kissed you last night?”

Shaurya opened his mouth, then shut it again.

The memories of last night hit him with full force.

Her legs wrapped around him. His hands around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

The way her lips met his…tentative at first, then bold, then hungry…

matching his need beat for beat. There had been nothing na?ve or childish in that kiss.

It was passionate. Fierce. Unmistakably that of a woman.

He fell silent, his thoughts hijacked by the flash of her flushed cheeks, the dazed look in her eyes, the softness of her mouth, and the way her breath had hitched just before she kissed him back.

Varun cleared his throat loudly. “I knew it,” he said, breaking into a grin. “That’s the face of a man who just replayed the kiss frame by frame in 4k slow-motion.”

Shaurya blinked back to reality. “What? No.”

“Bro, please,” Varun said, placing the mug down. “You’ve got the haunted look of a man who just realised he accidentally kissed his way into feelings.”

Shaurya groaned. “This is not helping, Varun. I have no feelings for anyone, okay?”

Varun leaned forward, his voice turning serious. “Okay, fine. Let’s reset. Last night, Rhea sent you a picture of her and her new husband celebrating the new year on a yacht. You get pissed, and instead of going for a walk or throwing darts at her face, you end up kissing your neighbour.”

Shaurya’s shoulders tensed.

“And the best part?” Varun added. “You’ve spent the last twelve hours, not obsessing over Rhea’s ugly games, but over Nandini. You don’t want to fix that old mess. You want to fix this new one, the one with Nandini.”

Shaurya went quiet. He hated to admit it, but Varun was right. The real reason his head was spinning wasn’t Rhea this time. It was Nandini.

The girl next door. The chaos-in-a-cute-dress tornado who had first looked heartbroken, then spitting mad, when he’d told her the kiss was a mistake and that it wasn’t even meant for her.

He ran a hand down his face. “I know what I said hurt her. I know I was wrong.”

Varun nodded. “Then be a man and tell her that.”

Shaurya looked up. “You seriously want me to walk over to her place and admit that I completely lost it? That even though somewhere in the back of my mind I might’ve sensed it was her , I still didn’t stop?”

“Exactly. And while you’re at it, tell her you kissed her like you meant every second of it,” Varun offered helpfully.

Shaurya glared. “I’m not saying that… because that’s not true.”

Varun stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “It is. If it were anyone else, you’d have shrugged it off and moved on by now. But instead, you’re pacing around, losing sleep, and calling me at 9 a.m. on a public holiday. Because you care.”

Shaurya didn’t answer.

Varun grabbed his coat. “Talk to her. Be honest. And if you really want to avoid her grandpa from coming at you with a lawsuit, you better do it before she tells him about last night.”

As he headed for the door, he paused and raised his mug once more. “Oh, and by the way… Happy New Year.”

Shaurya rolled his eyes. “This is the worst start to any year I’ve ever had.”

Varun winked. “Or maybe the best. You just don’t know it yet.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving behind a very conflicted, very grumpy, and very newly-kissed Shaurya Ahuja to clean up his own mess.

Of all the things Shaurya had imagined for the new year, chasing after a woman who once compared him to a living ghost definitely hadn’t made the list.

But then again, neither had that kiss.

*****************

Raichand Villa

The morning sun spilled through the pale-yellow curtains of her bedroom, far too cheerful for the mood Nandini Raichand woke up in.

She blinked at the ceiling, tossing slightly under her thick blanket, her eyes wide and accusing.

She had kissed her grumpy neighbour.

Wait, no. Correction: her grumpy neighbour had kissed her.

Correction again: she had kissed him back.

“Oh God,” she muttered into her pillow before groaning and burying her entire face into it. “What have I done?”

It wasn’t just any kiss. It was the kind of kiss women wrote poetry about. Or, in her case, read about in her romance novels, thinking, ‘Nah! This doesn’t happen in real life.’

Except... it did. Last night. To her. On a dining table. In Villa No. 11.

With him.

She sat up in bed with a jolt, her hair a cloud of chaos and her mind not far behind. Her legs were still sore from walking in those plump heels she had worn for the New Year event last night. And her lips? They still tingled in a way that was frankly rude after what had actually happened.

Because what had happened shouldn’t have happened… at all.

She flopped back down onto the bed dramatically, still reeling from the fact that he had the audacity to kiss her thinking she was someone else.

“Ughhh!” She kicked off her blanket and stormed into the bathroom. “I’m such an idiot.”

Nandini spent the next half hour switching between brushing her teeth, scolding her reflection, and standing frozen under the shower like it would wash away the previous night’s madness.

But no amount of warm water or muttered curses could rinse off the memory of his lips on hers—or worse, her response to it.

What had she been thinking?

Scratch that. She clearly hadn’t been thinking at all.

The way her body had betrayed her, the way her fingers had tugged him closer instead of pushing him away, and the way that stupid little wish she’d made to the mango tree had practically manifested itself in the most mortifying way possible. Happy New Year, indeed.

By the time she made it to the breakfast table, still mentally berating herself, her grandfather was already halfway through his breakfast. He looked fresh as ever, sitting upright with the morning paper lying beside him.

Lakshmi Aunty was busy placing another hot paratha on his plate with a dollop of white butter.