“Oh. Right. Anyway, you look really young there,” I continue, because apparently I can’t stop now. “And now you’re very… old.”
He scoffs. “I am not very old.”
“You are,” I insist. “You have very old-man energy.”
“I’m thirty-two,” he says dryly.
I grin. “Exactly.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. He looks back at the picture, eyes softening.
“I’ll always cherish this,” he says quietly.
My heart goes completely feral.
That’s it. I can’t sit here anymore.
I stand up abruptly. “Okay, I should go.”
He looks up, amused. “You just got here.”
“Yes, but now I’ve said thank you,” I say quickly. “So mission accomplished.”
“Sitara—”
“Thank you again,” I interrupt, already backing toward the door. “Really.”
I don’t give myself time to think. I turn and leave before my heart can convince me to do something reckless—like stay, or ask questions I’m not ready to hear the answers to or…place a kiss on his cheek because the urge is too overwhelming and so damn scary.
As the door closes behind me, I press a hand to my chest.
My heart is still racing.
And for the first time, I realize this isn’t just gratitude anymore.
It’s something far more terrifying.
Front row seat
DHRUV
If someone had told me a month ago that I’d willingly sit through a horror movie—voluntarily, without bribery or blackmail—I would have laughed in their face and gone back to my paperwork.
If someone had told me I’d begratefulfor it?
I’d have checked their temperature.
Yet here I am.
In the private theatre of my palace—because apparently my sister believes trauma should be experienced in surround sound—watching something that involves possessed dolls, sudden screaming violins, and far too much whispering in dark corridors.
And Sitara is clinging to my arm like it’s her last tether to sanity.
I have never been so thankful for poor life choices.
Her fingers are curled tight around my bicep, knuckles pale, her shoulder pressed into my side, her head tucked dangerously close to my chest. Every time the screen flickers or the background music sharpens, she flinches and grips me harder.
I don’t even pretend to focus on the movie.
