Her lips twitch with amusement. “Well, heisa guest. And a rather important one it seems, judging by how much he’s occupying your mind.”
My jaw tightens, and I cross my arms. “He’s not occupying anything,” I huff, looking away. “And he’s definitely not important.”
She lets out a slow breath as if she is the one being tested. “Sana, we welcome and treat our guests with kindness.”
Before I could argue further, the chime of the doorbell cuts through.
Mom gives me a look. “At least do the bare minimum and answer the door.” Then, before I could stomp off, she adds with a knowing smile, “And be good. He’s a guest, after all.”
“Guest, my foot,” I grumble under my breath, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel before heading for the door. Reaching the door, I brace myself as I pull it open.
And there he stands. Looking as effortlessly handsome as ever, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes sharp. The sight of him sends a jolt through me—annoyance, frustration… and something else I refuse to name.
My fingers curl around the doorknob as he leans casually against the doorframe, his eyes skimming over me before locking onto mine with that infuriating confidence.
“Staring at me like that is giving me ideas, Sana,” he drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Ideas that you have feelings for me—something you’re trying very hard to hide.”
I school my expression into indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
That smirk widens, and only then do I notice the bouquet of fresh lilies in his hand. But before I can say a word, he raises them slightly, as if reading my mind.
“These are for your mom, not you. So spare me the lecture.”
I cross my arms, ignoring the stupid, annoying way my stomach twists. “Why the hell are you even here, Aditya?”
“Aunty asked me to come for lunch,” he says smoothly. “And I respect my elders.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Oh, right. Respect. Is that what we’re calling your stubbornness now?”
He chuckles, stepping just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “I don’t know, Sana. How about you tell me what would you call someone who looks all flustered seeing me, even when they pretend to hate me?”
My fingers curl into fists. “Flustered? You wish.”
His smirk doesn’t falter. “Oh, I wish a lot of things, sweetheart.”
Heat rises up my spine, but before I can fire back, my mother’s voice interrupts from behind me.
“Sana, why didn’t you invite Aditya in? Why is he still standing at the door?”
I press my lips together, inhaling sharply before forcing the most fake smile I can muster. “Please, come in, Your Highness. I’m sorry, but I don’t have a red carpet to roll out.”
“That’s alright. Your flustered expression is more than enough of a welcome,” he says in a low voice meant only for my ears. But as he steps in and brushes past me, his arm grazes softly against mine—whether intentional or not, I don’t know. But the brief contact sends a spark through me, setting my nerves ablaze.
“Flustered,” he murmurs low and teasing, before moving past to greet my mom, bending to touch her feet respectfully.
“God bless you, beta,” she says warmly, completely oblivious to the tension between us.
Then, as he straightens and glances over his shoulder, meeting my gaze with far too much amusement, I know it—this lunch is going to be pure hell.
“Come on in,” Mom says, and we all move into the living room. Aditya settles onto the couch like he owns the place, leaning back with an ease that makes my blood boil. My mom sits beside him, smiling, completely at ease with his presence—as if he hasn’t been the single most insufferable headache in my life.
Just as I move to sit opposite them, Mom speaks up. “Sana, get Aditya something to drink.”
I stare at Mom. “Mom, I’m not….”
“Yes, Sana, please get me something cold. I’m feeling hot all of a sudden,” Aditya cuts in smoothly, his smirk widening.
I whip my head towards him, shooting daggers at him. He raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence, but the amusement dancing in his eyes tells me he’s enjoying this way too much.
