Riyan's POV
He wasn't looking for her. That's what he told himself as he stalked across the courtyard, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. He just needed air. Needed to burn off the frustration before it ate him alive.
But then he saw her.
Ananya. Sitting on that damn bench, books scattered like casualties at her feet. And beside her—Aarav. His shoulder against hers. Her head tilted just enough to lean into him.
Something inside Riyan detonated.
The whispers from earlier, the way she'd looked at him in the stairwell, trembling but unyielding—it all came roaring back. And now she was here. With him.
He froze in the shadows, chest heaving. Aarav's hand slid over hers, steady, deliberate. Riyan's fists curled tight. The urge to storm over, to rip them apart, to stake his claim with no room for doubt—it nearly broke him.
But she hadn't chosen him, had she? Not tonight. Not when she could've stayed. Instead, she'd let herself lean into someone else.
Riyan turned on his heel, the fury in his veins too wild, too dangerous. If he stayed, he'd say something he couldn't take back.
Ananya's POV
She should've felt relief. Aarav's steady heartbeat against her temple, his calm words wrapping around her—it was everything she'd thought she wanted. Safety. Peace. A pause button on the chaos.
But the second she felt the brush of his fingers against hers, something sharp twisted in her chest. Because she wasn't picturing Aarav's hand. She was remembering Riyan's.
The way his grip had trapped her against the wall. The way his eyes had burned, unyielding, as if he could see every secret she tried to bury.
Her heart wouldn't listen. It still beat too fast, not for the boy holding her now, but for the storm she'd just escaped.
And that terrified her.
She pulled back slightly, enough that Aarav's arm slipped away without protest. His brows knit, worry written plain across his face.
"Ananya," he said softly, "you're shaking again."
She forced a smile, but it felt paper-thin. "I'm fine. Really."
But even as she said it, her gaze flickered toward the courtyard shadows—just for a second, a whisper of movement in the dark. She couldn't be sure, but the thought made her stomach flip.
Was he there? Did he see?
The idea made her breath hitch. A guilty ache. A restless fire.
And suddenly, safety didn't feel like enough.