SHANAYA'S POV

His arms were still around me.

His scent, familiar and grounding, lingered in the air — sandalwood, the faintest touch of smoke, and something uniquely him. I could feel his heart against my chest, still racing. Still unsure.

And then he pulled back, just slightly.

His fingers hesitantly cupped my jaw, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear like it was the most fragile thing in the world. His eyes — God, those eyes — they held oceans in them. Deep, restless, aching oceans.

“Shanaya…” he whispered, like my name was the only thing keeping him afloat.

I blinked up at him, still kneeling with him on the soft carpet of his study, both of us tangled in the silence that followed his tears. A silence that didn’t feel empty… it felt full. Full of things unsaid.

“I know,” he started, voice low and rough, “this isn’t how I imagined it.”

His thumb grazed the corner of my lip, his other hand slipping to my waist like he needed to anchor himself. “I wanted candles, maybe a stupid handwritten note. Something soft. Romantic. Perfect.”

He laughed under his breath, humorless and shaky.

“But perfect isn’t us, is it?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. My fingers curled around his shirt, and I looked at him — really looked at him.

“We’ve had chaos, pain, loss, walls built so damn high that even breathing near them makes them crack,” he continued, and this time his voice wavered, “but in the middle of it all… there’s you.”

His forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling.

“You, with your fire and softness. Your rage and compassion. Your stubbornness and your kindness that breaks me.” He paused, then breathed out, “I don’t care that it’s only been weeks. I don’t care if it’s too soon.”

And then—

“Be my girlfriend.”

My breath caught.

“I know it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, eyes flickering between mine like he was searching for something—hope, maybe. “And I didn’t plan it like this. But I don’t want to wait. Not another second.”

He gently tilted my chin upward.

“Be with me, Shanaya. Not just today, not just in moments like this. Live with me. Move in with me. I’ll take care of everything—us, you, your dreams, your madness, all of it.”

“Kabir…” I whispered, overwhelmed.

“I’m not asking this because I’m vulnerable right now,” he said firmly, his hand tightening slightly around mine. “I’m asking you because I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

He pulled back enough to meet my gaze again, and this time, it wasn’t the broken boy I saw.

It was the man. My man.

“I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want your laughter echoing through my penthouse. I want to see your goddamn shampoo bottles next to mine. I want us. Always.”

The silence between us was thick again, but this time it carried a different weight.

Hope. Longing. Love.

My lips parted, but no words came. I could only nod, the lump in my throat too stubborn to let me speak. But my eyes said it all.

His shoulders relaxed, and in the next breath, he kissed me. Not like the night before. Not like lust or urgency.

But like a vow.

A kiss that whispered: I choose you. In all your chaos. In all your calm.

And when we pulled apart, breathless and teary-eyed, he whispered the one thing that sealed it all—

“You’re mine now, Shanaya. And I’m yours.”

---

It had been a week since I’d moved into Kabir’s penthouse. The first few days felt like floating in a dream — the kind you didn’t want to wake up from. The place, once dark and minimalistic, now echoed with little sparks of me. Kabir hadn’t waited a second to call an interior designer.

“Change everything to her liking,” he’d instructed. “I want her to feel like this is her home.”

And slowly, it was becoming one.

That morning, Kabir had left early for an important meeting, after a rushed kiss on my forehead and a whispered, “I’ll be late today, baby. Isha will come over. Be good, okay?”

Be good? Hah. Did he think I was going to burn the place down?

By late afternoon, Isha arrived, holding a box of pastries and that mischievous sparkle in her eyes. We plopped down on the couch, legs tangled, catching up like old friends even though we’d only met a few times.

“You’re glowing,” she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

“Oh shut up,” I laughed. “You and Veer aren’t exactly subtle either.”

She grinned. “True. But with you and Kabir, it’s different. He’s... softer with you. Like you’re his calm in the chaos.”

That hit differently.

We talked about everything — about her and Veer, how Rhea was flying off to Paris for an art residency, and how Kabir’s mom kept subtly dropping hints about us visiting them soon. I felt warm, wrapped in the familiarity of girl talk and comfort.

------

Later that evening, my phone buzzed. Kartik.

“Missing me already?” I answered playfully.

“Always,” he chuckled. “But mostly wanted to check on you. You’re really living with him now?”

“Yes,” I said, eyes scanning the cozy living room, now decorated with little plants, soft throws, and candles I loved. “He’s taking care of me, Kartik. Like... really taking care.”

“He better,” Kartik said, voice laced with protective older-brother energy. “Because if he doesn’t—”

“I’ll be the first to slap him, don’t worry,” I teased.

---

When the call ended, I found myself smiling. I missed the people who’d held me up through my darkest hours, but this... this new chapter felt right.

I tied my hair into a messy bun, threw on my favorite crop top and shorts, and headed to the kitchen. I wanted to surprise him — not with anything fancy, just comfort food. Home food. The kind that fills your belly and heart at the same time.

----

KABIR'S POV

I was exhausted.

The meetings were endless, the negotiations intense. And yet, the second I stepped out of my car and walked toward the elevator, my heart eased. She was there. Inside. Waiting.

As I unlocked the door and stepped in, the scent of masala and warm bread hit me first — and then I saw her. In the kitchen. Humming, dancing a little to the music playing from her phone. Her crop top rode up as she reached for something on the top shelf, exposing her waist, and I swear to God, all the stress in my body evaporated.

She turned and gasped. “You’re early!”

I walked up to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind, burying my face into her neck. “You’re cooking for me?”

“I wanted to,” she said, tilting her head so I could kiss the spot she knew drove me crazy.

“Baby, ” I whispered, “I could get used to this.”

We sat down, plates full of what she proudly called her “Shanaya special.” She kept feeding me extra bites and I kept letting her, not because I couldn’t do it myself, but because I liked the sparkle in her eyes when she did.

As we cleaned up, I pulled her close, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Her brows rose. “Uh-oh.”

“I have to leave tomorrow evening. US. Three-day trip. Business.”

She stilled. “Oh.”

I cupped her cheek. “But I want you to come with me.”

“What?”

“I don’t care how last-minute it is. I’ll book your ticket. You don’t have to do anything. Just pack. I can’t sleep without you anymore, Shanaya.”

Her eyes searched mine, and something tender flickered there.

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” I murmured. “Come with me, jaan. Be with me.”

---

END OF CHAPTER

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