Vihaan's eyes flickered with panic as he scanned the trap around them. "How… how are we supposed to get out of here?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence cracking just enough to show the stakes.
Gauri, calm and focused, glanced at him with a faint, teasing smile. "Relax. I've calculated the axe's timing. Half a second—precisely. I can pass through safely."
He narrowed his eyes, concern mixing with a hint of exasperation. "You shouldn't go first. It's too dangerous."
"Dangerous is my middle name," she shot back, a playful spark in her gaze.
In her next step, she misjudged the timing by a heartbeat—the axe whistled past, inches from her shoulder. Heart hammering, she froze. Before she could react further, Vihaan's strong hands shot out, gripping her waist and pulling her back just in time. Their bodies pressed together for a heartbeat, and when their eyes met, the world shrank to the space between them.
"You're reckless," he murmured, a dangerous smile curling his lips. "Do you even realize how close that was?"
"I calculated it," she said, voice steady though her pulse raced. "Just… almost. I'll get it next time."
He tilted his head, voice dropping low, teasing but laced with something more. "Almost isn't good enough when I might have to save you again."
Gauri smirked, undeterred. "And you can't heal if you get hurt in here either, Vihaan."
His laughter was low, warm, fearless. Without another word, he lifted her into his arms effortlessly, holding her close. Their faces hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, eyes locked. Memories of stolen, tender moments flickered through his mind—the soft laughter, the brush of fingers, the warmth of her hand in his. A pang of longing struck him even amid the chaos of Sarvansh's power.
"Ready?" he whispered, voice husky.
She nodded, heart pounding, but with trust and courage shining through.
Together, they moved forward as one, strides confident, fearless, the danger around them unable to touch the bond that held them in that fleeting, perfect moment.
With a surge of power, Vihaan lifted Gauri effortlessly, leaping out of the trap as if the forest itself bent to his will. They landed on the roof of a nearby shed with a soft thud, bodies pressing together from the impact. The sky above darkened, clouds roiling, and a first sharp sprinkle of rain tapped against the roof—soon cascading into a downpour, as if the world itself mourned the chaos unfolding.
Gauri's heart raced—not just from the fall, but from the closeness of him. Vihaan's arms held her firmly, his chest warm against hers. Their breaths mingled, eyes locked, the forest, the trap, the mani—all fading into the background for a suspended moment.
Then Vihaan leaned in, lips brushing hers in a teasing, almost commanding way. Gauri froze in surprise, a shiver running down her spine as his hands held her with a possessive, yet careful strength.
He had intended it as a distraction, a way to draw her attention while he moved to reclaim the jal mani, but as their lips met and rain soaked them both, Sarvansh's dark heart—masked in Vihaan's guise—felt something else entirely. The teasing urgency became something deeper, raw, consuming.
Gauri hesitated only for a heartbeat before the warmth of his presence, the thrill of danger, and the intensity of the rain pulled her closer. The world narrowed to just them—the rush of water around them, the rhythm of their hearts, the electricity of the storm echoing the storm between them.
Vihaan's hands traced her sides, holding her close as his lips claimed hers again, longer this time, softer, yet urgent. Gauri's hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, the strength beneath his darkness.
The rain poured harder, soaking them to the skin, drenching the shed, but neither moved away. What had begun as a calculated distraction had become a stolen, intense moment—a reckless romance under the storm, where the danger, the power, and the world outside ceased to exist.
For a fleeting instant, there was no Sarvansh, no trap, no mani—just Vihaan and Gauri, bound together in the wild, chaotic rain, their hearts echoing each other's.
The rain poured in relentless sheets, soaking them both, cold droplets mingling with the heat rising from their bodies. Gauri's hands trembled slightly as they pressed against Vihaan's chest, the rapid thrum of his heartbeat echoing through her palms. His lips were warm, insistent, capturing hers with a magnetic force that left her breathless.
Slowly, almost reverently, Gauri's fingers found the buttons of Vihaan's shirt. One by one, she unfastened them, her touch hesitant at first, then bolder as the storm around them mirrored the storm between them.
Vihaan's hands tightened around her, pulling her closer, pressing her against him. Each movement, each gasp, was a conversation of longing and desire—silent but undeniable.
Their eyes remained closed, surrendering entirely to the moment. The rain soaked through their clothes, running down skin and hair, but the chill of the water only intensified the warmth between them. Sarvansh, coiled inside Vihaan, felt every heartbeat, every pulse of emotion, every shiver of anticipation, and he drew her even closer, claiming the space between them.
The world around them—the jungle, the trap, the mani, even the storm—faded into insignificance. There was only the rain, the kiss, and the way they fit together as though every drop of water and every heartbeat had been building to this moment.
Time slowed. Each touch, each movement, was electric, intoxicating, unrelenting. The rain became their rhythm, the storm their music, and in the heat of that stolen, reckless intimacy, Gauri and Vihaan—Vihaan and Sarvansh—were utterly, undeniably together.