(At dinner)
Arina and Reyansh sat across from each other at the dining table, sharing a quiet meal. The silence wasn't awkward—it was strangely comfortable, like an invisible blanket wrapped around them both. Arina glanced up occasionally, catching the faint lines of exhaustion drawn across his face. His shoulders seemed heavier than usual, as though the day had taken too much from him.
She had planned to tell him tonight about her long-cherished dream—the bakery she wanted to open, the place she had imagined with warm light spilling through the windows and the smell of freshly baked bread clinging to the air. But looking at him now, his gaze lowered, his focus absent, she knew this wasn't the moment. The words died quietly in her throat.
After dinner, Reyansh excused himself and retreated to his room. Arina lingered for a moment, her fingers running over the rim of her glass. She could still say it tomorrow .With a small breath, she gathered herself and headed to the kitchen.
The faint golden glow of the stove filled the room as she warmed a glass of milk. She added turmeric the way her mother once had, a ritual for care and comfort, and stirred until the yellow spread like a sunrise through white clouds. It was such a simple gesture, but her hands trembled faintly, betraying how much she wanted to matter to him—even in the smallest ways.
Carrying the glass carefully, she made her way back. When she pushed open the door, her eyes immediately sought him. Reyansh wasn't in bed. Instead, he stood at the balcony, the curtains pulled aside, his tall frame outlined against the night. The city lights flickered below, their glow reflecting faintly against his profile.
She set the glass on the bedside table and walked toward him. The air shifted with every step she took. When she finally reached his side, she leaned lightly against the railing.
"How are you feeling now?" she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
He turned at her question. His eyes found hers, steady and unreadable, but there was something different in them tonight—something she couldn't quite name. For a moment, he didn't answer. Then his lips curved faintly, his voice calm but weighted.
"I'm feeling… good."
Relief loosened her chest. She smiled and gestured back toward the table. "I made turmeric milk for you. It's kept there, in case you want it."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. And then she noticed it—his gaze didn't move away. It lingered on her, sharp yet searching, as if he was trying to uncover something buried beneath her skin.
Before she could speak again, he closed the distance between them. One hand rose, warm and steady, cupping her cheek. Her breath stilled. The other hand slipped beneath the loose drape of her saree, pressing against the bare skin of her waist. Her eyes widened in shock, a sudden flush flooding her face.
She froze. No one had ever touched her like this before—so intimate, so deliberate. And it was Reyansh. The man who rarely let emotions slip through his composure, the man she thought of as untouchable.
His eyes locked with hers, dark and restless. He was searching, she realized—searching for hesitation, for a sign of rejection, for even the smallest trace of resistance.
But she didn't move.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, her hands trembled faintly at her sides, yet there was no thought of pushing him away. Something inside her ached at the intensity of his gaze, something she didn't want to name but couldn't deny.
When he found no resistance, his head bent closer. Slowly, carefully, his lips brushed against hers, no more than a few seconds, but the world tilted around her.
He slowly pulled back just enough to look at her, his breath warm against her skin. His voice dropped to a darker, almost dangerous whisper.
"If you want, you can run now," he said, his eyes glinting with a warning she could feel in her bones. "Because later… I will never let you go."
Her eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. His words weren't a confession—they were a claim, a chain wrapped tightly around her soul. The weight of them pressed into her, terrifying and intoxicating all at once.
She stood frozen for a long moment, staring into his gaze. And then slowly, as if her body decided before her mind could, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Her cheek pressed against his chest, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I will never run from you."
For the first time in a long while, Reyansh's composure broke. A faint tremor ran through him as his arms closed around her. His grip tightened, pulling her closer as though he feared she might still slip away. One hand moved up her back, steady and protective, while the other remained pressed firmly against her waist, grounding her to him.
Arina could feel his heartbeat—fierce, unrelenting, matching the rhythm of her own. She closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth of his hold.
The night around them stretched endlessly, the hum of the city below fading into silence. For that one fragile moment, nothing else existed. Not the weight of her unspoken dreams, not the exhaustion etched into his shoulders. Only the certainty of his arms around her, the dark promise lingering in his voice, and the quiet truth blooming within her chest—she did not want to run.
The turmeric milk cooled slowly on the table, forgotten.
---
"His kiss was not a promise—it was a warning."