KABIR'S POV

The room was dark, lit only by the amber streetlights spilling through the curtains. Her body lay tangled with mine-warm, soft, delicate. The post-midnight silence was heavy with something more than just exhaustion. Her head rested on my chest, her breath calm now. Safe.

My fingers trailed lazily through her hair, but I could already feel the stickiness of sweat and skin. Gently, I moved her without waking her, cradling her like porcelain. She stirred for a second, murmuring something unintelligible, and I froze-but she settled again, curling into the pillow, that innocent look back on her face.

God. She had no idea what she did to me.

I carried her to the bathroom in silence, cleaned her carefully with a warm cloth, whispering things she couldn't hear but I meant with everything I had in me.

"You're mine. All of you."

I changed her into one of my shirts-white, soft, and far too big on her. She looked ethereal. Like she belonged to this place, to me, to every part of my world I'd shut off before her.

I cleaned myself up next, ran a towel through my damp hair, and grabbed some shorts before walking back into the bedroom. She was curled up on the left side of the bed now-her side. Like she already knew.

I slipped in next to her, wrapping her into my arms again, pulling her close until I could breathe right. Until her scent calmed the shadows in my mind.

And that was how I slept-finally, deeply.

-

MORNING :

I cursed under my breath when my phone buzzed relentlessly against the nightstand. An emergency board meeting had been called-of course. Timing could never be on my side.

I didn't want to leave her. But I knew better than to wake her when she looked that peaceful.

So I slid out of bed, careful, pressed a kiss to her temple, and wrote a note and then I went to take a shower.

And then I went to kitchen and prepared breakfast for her and left it besides the note.

I didn't mean to be sappy. But with her, I couldn't help it.

---

SHANAYA'S POV

The sunlight peeked through the black velvet curtains of Kabir's room, gently kissing my skin and pulling me out of my deep sleep. I stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open only to be met with...emptiness.

No strong arms wrapped around me. No slow breathing against my neck. No heartbeat against my back.

Just a half-creased pillow beside me that still smelled like him.

I blinked, a wave of discomfort settling in.

Why did it suddenly feel so...cold?

The silence in the room echoed louder than any morning alarm. For a second, I actually sat up and glanced around-half hoping he was somewhere in the room, maybe in the bathroom or checking something on his phone.

But no.

I was alone.

My heart did a weird little thump, not because I was worried something happened-but because... I missed him. Already.

It was ridiculous, really. Just a few hours without him and I felt off balance. That had to be unhealthy, right?

I threw the comforter off my legs and that's when I saw it. A neatly folded piece of paper on the side table, next to a breakfast tray that looked like it belonged in a five-star suite.

I picked up the note first.

----

> Didn't want to wake you up. You looked like you were finally sleeping without the weight of the world on your chest.

Had to step out for an emergency meeting. There's food next to you and freshly squeezed orange juice in the jug.

Stay in bed as long as you want.

And baby-

I'll be back soon. So don't miss me too much.

-K.

----

My lips twitched into a smile.

God, he was so sappy sometimes. But the kind of sappy that made my stomach flutter instead of roll my eyes. The kind that was so rare coming from him that I didn't even mind it.

Maybe it wasn't sappy when it came from Kabir. Maybe... it was just real.

I looked over at the tray-perfectly crisp aloo parathas, a small bowl of dahi with mint, and a sprinkle of pomegranate seeds on top. There was even a handwritten sticky note on the tray:

"Don't you dare skip breakfast."

"Bossy even when he's not here," I muttered, amused.

After finishing breakfast and showering with Kabir's hoodie on (because yes, it smelled like him and yes, I was that girl now), I found myself unable to go back to bed. The idea of "finding pieces of him" stuck in my head like an unfinished story.

And so I wandered out into his world.

The penthouse was like a dream wrapped in monochrome and mystery-dark walls, minimalistic furniture, sleek finishes. It was clearly designed to reflect control, precision, power.

But then I opened the door to the home gym. And found a punching bag that looked like it had been beaten to near death. And some of his shirts strewn on the treadmill. Real, messy. Human.

Next, the hallway led me to a small studio room. Bright white walls, splashed with color from abstract canvases. Paintbrushes in jars. A worn-out stool. A sketchbook with pages of unfinished portraits-some angry, some sad, some filled with eyes that looked like mine.

Kabir paints?

My chest warmed.

Then, through another door, I found a smaller lounge-fitted with a deep mahogany bookshelf that climbed from floor to ceiling. A polished black baby grand piano stood near the glass windows, sun beaming off its surface. There were also two guitars-one acoustic, one electric-resting on stands beside it.

"He sings," I whispered to myself, smiling in disbelief. "And he paints. And he plays piano."

Kabir Singhania was basically an emotional hurricane hiding in a tailored suit.

As I moved along the shelf, I saw everything from Murakami to Rumi. From spiritual works like The Untethered Soul to the twisted thrillers of Gillian Flynn. There were tabs, scribbled notes, underlines.

And then I found it. A thin black notebook shoved between two hardcovers.

I pulled it out carefully.

Inside were dated pages. Almost like diary entries, but not entirely. Some were just lyrics. Some sketches. And some, pure raw thought.

One page read:

> It's easier to fight the world than to let one person in.

Because when they leave, it doesn't feel like a war.

It feels like a funeral.

I paused.

Another one said:

> I'm not the villain. But I know how to become one if it keeps the people I love safe.

Chills ran down my spine. I suddenly felt like I'd opened a box I wasn't meant to.

But I also felt something deeper-like I was finally beginning to understand the man who held me so delicately, but carried the world like it owed him blood.

And maybe... maybe I wasn't just exploring a house today.

Maybe I was slowly walking through the halls of his heart.

---

END OF CHAPTER

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