Page 3 of When Love Trespassed

A lone mango, still unripe, hung low enough for her to reach. She tapped it lightly.

“You remember how you used to pluck mangoes before they were ripe just because I was too impatient to wait?”

She grinned. “And Daadu would scold us both, saying, ‘Let them ripen, you two troublemakers!’ ”

She exhaled slowly, letting the memories wrap around her like a warm embrace.

“I wish you were here, Daadi,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really do.”

Just then, a small gust of wind whistled through the branches, making the leaves dance.

She smiled. “That was a hug, wasn’t it?”

Shaking her head fondly, she leaned against the tree and closed her eyes. For the first time in months, she felt at peace.

But before she could get lost in her memories, a deep, gruff grunt broke the silence. She stiffened, her head snapping towards Villa No. 11.

The two villas were barely separated, thanks to this massive mango tree that stood stubbornly between them.

Its thick branches stretched over the boundary like a bridge neither party wanted but both were forced to share.

This was the only section where no boundary wall existed, courtesy of the tree that refused to pick a side.

Her grandfather had refused to have it trimmed, let alone cut it down. “Your Daadi planted this tree with her own hands,” he had declared more than once. “I won’t let some new-money businessman dictate what stays and what goes on my land.”

That “new-money businessman” was the current occupant of Villa No. 11, a man she had only heard about through her grandfather’s frequent complaints.

He had bought the villa six months ago, renovated it to death, and had since made it his personal mission to make Grandpa’s life miserable.

According to Grandpa, the man had zero tolerance for anything ‘imperfect’—including stray mango leaves and fallen fruit that apparently ruined his pristine swimming pool.

Nandini rolled her eyes just thinking about it. Who buys a house next to a decades-old mango tree and then complains about the tree just existing?

Another grunt.

She took a step closer, peering past the thick leaves, and there she finally saw him.

A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Shirtless.

Nandini blinked, her brain short-circuiting for a moment.

The gruff sounds that had caught her attention belonged to none other than her grandfather’s arch-nemesis—the infamous new owner of Villa No. 11.

And he was currently on the back patio, doing push-ups. Effortless, powerful push-ups. Who even works out this intensely in the late afternoon?

Show-off. Huh!

She muttered it under her breath, but her feet refused to move. Because, truth be told, the sight was hard to ignore.

Sweat gleamed on his sculpted back despite the cold weather, highlighting every ridge of muscle. Each push-up exuded raw strength. His dark, tousled hair clung slightly to his forehead, and his breathing—deep and steady—was the only sound apart from the occasional rustle of leaves.

This had to be him. The man her grandfather had ranted about in every single phone call for the last six months.

“That man is impossible, Nandu!”

“Every day, he complains about the leaves falling in his fancy pool, as if nature is personally offending him!”

“A little dirt won’t kill him! If anything, he looks like he could use a little softening up!”

Daadu clearly hadn’t seen him shirtless. Because nothing about this man looked like it needed softening up. Her gaze drifted, completely by accident, to his arms. Veined, strong enough to lift, carry and ruin a woman all at once.

Sweet. Lord. His arms.

The kind of arms that looked like they could pin a woman against the wall and make her forget how to breathe. Her mouth went dry as her gaze trailed lower, lingering on the way his joggers hung low on his hips. And then—

Oh.

A peek of black boxers peeked out from the waistband.

Damn it.

She tore her eyes away, forcing herself to look anywhere but there. But just then, as if sensing her gaze, he stopped. He just froze mid push-up like some kind of superhero who had just detected a threat.

Her stomach flipped as he turned his head, locking eyes with her.

A shiver ran down her spine. His gaze wasn’t just dark. It held something deeper, something dangerous.

Nandini’s heart started racing like she was eight years old again, caught stealing extra mangoes from the tree.

But she wasn’t eight. She was twenty-five. And this was definitely not a childish game of hide and seek.

His expression shifted. His brows furrowed, his jaw tensed and irritation flickered across his face, like he had caught her red-handed.

“Excuse me?” His voice was sharp. “Who are you... and what are you even doing here?”

Panic shot through her. Oh God, he thinks I was staring.

Which, technically… she was.

Abort mission. Abort. Now.

With zero dignity, Nandini spun around so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet and bolted inside her villa like a startled squirrel. Once inside, she slammed the door shut and leaned against it, clutching her wildly thudding heart.

What. The. Hell. Was. That.

She had expected a quiet, peaceful break in Serene Meadows. A chance to clear her head, reset her life, maybe drink some chai under the mango tree like old times. Not… this.

Not a dangerously attractive neighbour with an attitude and a Greek-god physique. And definitely not her grandfather’s worst enemy!

She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

This was not happening.

And yet…

Something told her—

This was only the beginning.