Aadhya's POV
There I was, peacefully lying on my bed, deep in a YouTube rabbit hole of "New Maggi Recipes." I'm basically a Michelin-star chef when it comes to instant noodles—I could teach a PhD course on the perfect water-to-masala ratio. Who knew adding a pinch of peri-peri and some burnt garlic could feel like a spiritual awakening? Suddenly, my phone starts buzzing like it's having a seizure.
Avi."Hey Adi, I'm going out today and you're coming with me," he announced. No "please," no "are you free," just a straight-up royal decree. He hung up before I could even process the audacity.
He sent the address, and honestly, I was too bored to resist. I threw on a simple white skirt and a pink top—looking cute but effortless, obviously—and grabbed my wallet. I took masi's permission and headed to his house.
The asshole was standing downstairs waiting.
I wanted to smack him. "Where are we going, you dictator?"
"To a birthday party!" he chirped, looking way too excited.
Turns out, it was his cousin's birthday. "But I don't even know your cousin," I hissed. He didn't care. He dragged me into a taxi, and we headed to a mall. A mall party? Talk about high-budget childhoods. But then I realized the worst part: this idiot was empty-handed.
"Didn't you buy a present for your cousin?"
He just shook his head. Unbelievable. This guy has enough money for hair gel but zero for basic social manners.
We reached the 4th floor, and it was total chaos. Screaming kids, balloons everywhere, and the birthday boy—all of seven years old—running around like a caffeinated squirrel.
Avi immediately ditched me to join the kids in some weird tag game. Great. I'm a babysitter now.I couldn't let the kid have a gift-less birthday because of Avi's incompetence. I spotted a toy shop nearby and did a quick reconnaissance.
I found a Fidget Spinner—the universal currency of 7-year-olds. The shopkeeper also showed me these adorable Pikachu keychains for 240 rupees, while the spinner was 300.I opened my wallet. 500 rupees. I love my baby pikachu but I need make a big sacrifice for now. If I bought both, I'd be walking home from the mall, and my feet are too pretty for that.
"Can you pack the spinner, please?" I asked politely.
I looked at the Pikachu one last time—don't worry, buddy, I'll come back for you.
I handed over the cash, took the gift, and marched back. I shoved the box at Avi.
Give this to him," I whispered.
He handed it to his cousin, who opened it and started practically bouncing.
I knew it! Fidget spinners never fail.
Vyaan was standing right there too. Suddenly, an aunty started distributing chocolates as return gifts. I grabbed one, feeling like a kid myself, when "Grumpy Vyaan" approached me.
"Give to me, that's for kids not for you," he snapped, trying to snatch it.
"No way!" I moved it away to prank him, laughing, only to bump right into a solid, warm chest. I turned around, and my heart stopped.
"V-Vivaan," I said.
He was just staring at me, holding my wrist to steady me.
"Bhaiyya, give it to me!" Vyaan snapped, breaking the silence.
"No! It's not yours," Vivaan snapped back at his brother.
Vyaan looked down, looking so defeated. Poor him.
I bent down and handed it to him. "Take it! It's yours now." He bolted instantly, his face glowing with excitement.
I turned back to Vivaan.
"What's up? Why are you here with Vyaan?"
"Nothing. The birthday boy happens to be his classmate. Of course, I told Viraan to accompany him but he wouldn't listen, so here I am," he explained, looking totally bored. What a caring brother. If only he hand this food personality.
Suddenly I thought of my own brother he would have also accompanied me if I had asked him to.
"You... why are you here?" he asked.
I did my best to copy Avi expression. "Adi, you're coming with me! So here I am."
He didn't say anything just nodded and we were both standing and watching.
I looked at all the kids playing and couldn't help but smile. I've never been to a party like this. It was loud, messy , full of chocolates and snacks.
"I'm bored," Vivaan announced. Honestly, the audacity of this man. As if his boredom is a national emergency that I, Aadhya, the designated 12th-grade victim of his whims, need to solve.
Before I could even suggest him to count some tiles or something, he grabbed my wrist like he was kidnapping a stray cat and dragged me toward the sound of music.
"Hey, where are we going?" I gasped, stumbling over my own feet because walking in a straight line while being towed is apparently not a skill I've mastered yet.
"I'm bored, let's go there until they finish this party," he shot back. Wow.
What an absolute asshole.
He didn't even ask if I wanted to go to a club! I'm a vegetarian 12th grader, not a party animal! We walked in, and the place was pure chaos—wilder than Naman's party, which is saying something. People were wearing clothes so skimpy I was genuinely worried about their structural integrity.
Like, is that a shirt or a very long napkin?
"I'll get the drinks," Vivaan said, pointing me toward a round table and vanishing. Great. Left alone in a sea of wild dancers.
Suddenly, nature called—and it wasn't a "polite knock," it was a "break down the door" situation. I bolted for the washroom.
I had just finished my very important business on my "throne" and was washing my hands, thinking about how much I wanted to go home and eat snacks.
But the moment I stepped out of the washroom, the world went sideways.
Before I could even blink, a hand clamped firmly over my mouth, stifling my scream, and I was pinned against the cold wall.
My heart was doing a drum solo in my chest.
Is this it? Is this how a 12th grader is knocked out?
I looked up, ready to fight for my life, only to see Indian foreign species staring back at me.
"I'm sorry I had to do this," he whispered, his eyes looking weirdly intense.
I nodded slowly—mostly because I couldn't speak with his hand on my face, and partly because I didn't want to provoke him.
He let go, but instead of walking away, he pulled me into a hug so tight I thought my ribs might actually fuse together.
"Fuck, I missed you..." he muttered into my hair.
My brain was currently a "404 Error: Logic Not Found" screen.
Why was he hugging me? Why did he miss me? We aren't in a movie! "Rudr, what are you doing?" I managed to ask as he finally pulled back. He didn't answer; he just reached out and cupped my cheek like he was checking if I was real or made of cake.
I realized I couldn't let this slide. I had questions—serious ones. "Hey... we need to talk," I told him, putting on my best "I am a serious adult" face.He didn't look intimidated at all.
In fact, he looked amused. "But you're already talking, Pikachu," he said.
Pikachu? My jaw nearly hit the club floor. "I'm serious!" I snapped, feeling my face heat up.
Is he making fun of me? Does he think I'm a yellow cartoon character that shoots electricity? (I mean, I felt like I could electrocute him right then, so maybe he had a point).
He just smiled—that annoying, handsome smile. "I know," he said, skipping over my frustration entirely, "but not now. Here, give me your number. I'll call you."He pulled out his phone and handed it to me.
I didn't even argue.
My brain was so fried from the sudden hug and the nickname that I just typed my number in like a robot.
He took the phone back, looked at the screen, and then looked at me with this soft expression that made my stomach do a weird flip-flop.Then, out of nowhere, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. He patted my head like I was a golden retriever.
"I'll come back," he said firmly, and then he just... walked away. Just like that. Leaving me standing outside a club bathroom, confused.
What is happening? Am I in a Wattpad story? Is my life a glitch in the matrix? I wandered back to my seat, my brain feeling like boiled potato.
I stumbled back to the table, my brain still buzzing from Rudr's forehead kiss and the "Pikachu" comment. Honestly, my life was turning into a poorly written soap opera. Vivaan appeared out of the house neon haze, holding drinks. He shoved a glass toward me. I looked at it with extreme suspicion. After what happened at Naman's party, I wasn't about to drink anything that looked like it could melt my internal organs.
"It's clean, it's just a mocktail. I didn't put anything in here," he said, sounding surprisingly sincere.
I took a sip. Wow. It was actually delicious—sweet, cold, and refreshingly non-alcoholic. He popped open a beer can and leaned back, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk looking for its next meal.Suddenly, I noticed his gaze was locked on a woman nearby. She was wearing a dress that was essentially three pieces of string and a prayer.
This guy is such a whore, I thought, rolling my eyes so hard it actually hurt.
"You go join her," I told him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I expected him to stay, but he looked at me with a smirk.
"Are you sure?Are you sure? I'll really go," he teased.
"Sure, sure, go make out with her," I replied, trying to sound like I couldn't care less.
(Internally: go. GO. Try me. I dare you. I double dare you.)
To my absolute horror, the woman actually approached him. She touched his cheek and whispered something about him being a "hottie."My jaw tightened.
I felt this weird, hot prickle of annoyance.
I wasn't jealous—I was just... offended! Yeah, offended that She had such basic taste!
I watched as she sat beside him, slapping his thigh and laughing at jokes that definitely weren't that funny.
In a fit of pure, unadulterated saltiness, I chugged my entire mocktail in five seconds and slammed the glass onto the table with a loud clack.
They both looked at me for a split second, shrugged, and went back to their flirting. Oh, it is ON.
The music shifted into a high-energy beat, and the "sexy woman" stood up, swaying her hips and inviting " Idiotic king "to the floor. Vivaan looked at me.
"Come, Aadhya, let's dance."
"No, you both go. I'm not coming," I snapped. I wasn't about to be the third wheel to a mid-range seduction.
But Vivaan doesn't understand the word "no." He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the middle of the crowd.
He was dancing with her, and I was left standing there like a confused penguin. Fine.
If he wanted me to dance, I'd give him a show. I started pulling out the most disastrous, uncoordinated moves known to mankind. I was bumping into people—specifically her. Oops! Sorry, did my elbow ruin your vibe? My bad!
Suddenly, a hand landed on my waist.
I froze and spun around.
It was Vivaan, looking at me with that signature "idiot" smile.
"You move so much when you dance," he teased.
"You bumped into my partner—see, she left me." I looked back; the woman was sitting at the table, glaring at me like I'd just kicked her cat.
"Call your partner back!" I ordered.
"Don't you want to dance with me?"
"No! I don't want to embarrass myself in front of her!"He just laughed—a real, loud laugh—and grabbed my hands.
We started jumping.
No rhythm, no grace, just two people bouncing around like newborn kangaroos.
"Stop it! We look like fools!" I screamed over the music, breathless from laughing.
"Okay, then if I stop, will you dance with me?" he asked.
I nodded, and for once, he actually listened. We settled into a rhythm that was still weird, but it was our weird."Do you really dance like that?" he asked, his eyes crinkling.
"Well, that depends on the music," I shot back. He clicked his tongue and smiled.
It was the first time I'd seen him look genuinely happy without being a jerk. I realized, with a small sinking feeling in my stomach, that I was actually having the time of my life.
The air in the club suddenly shifted, the frantic bass of the party music melting away into the soft, melancholic strains of Samjhawan. The transition was jarring. Couples began to drift onto the floor, swaying in a slow, synchronized pulse. I froze.
Slow dancing?
With him?
This was uncharted territory.
My heart was already working overtime, and staying here felt like standing on the edge of a beautiful, terrifying cliff. I tried to slip away, to find the safety of the shadows, but I only made it two steps before I felt it—the warmth of his breath against the shell of my ear, sending a traitorous shiver down my spine.
"Mind continuing dancing?" he asked, his voice a low, velvety rasp that didn't sound like the usual arrogant Vivaan at all.
"V-Vivaan," I stammered, my pulse thundering in my throat. I wasn't sure my heart could survive this. Being near him was dangerous; being this near him was lethal.
"Adi... we're here. Let's make the most of it," he whispered. Before I could protest, he took my arms and draped them around his neck.
His own hands found my waist, his palms large and steady, pulling me flush against him. The world narrowed down to the space between us.
As we began to move, the lyrics of the song seemed to echo the unspoken chaos inside me:
"🎶Main tenu samjhawan ki...Na tere bina lagda jee...Tu ki jaane pyaar mera ...Main karaan intezar tera...Tu dil tui-yon jaan meri..🎶."
(How do I explain to you / That my heart doesn't find peace without you / What do you know of my love / I wait for you / You are my heart, you are my very life...)
I kept my gaze locked on his chest, terrified to look up.
My heart was beating so loudly I was certain he could feel it through my ribs. I was scared—scared that if I looked into his eyes just once, I'd be lost forever. I wouldn't be able to look away, and he'd see everything. He'd see the cracks, the longing, the pathetic hope.
" 🎶Mere dil me chunleyya ve tere dil diya rahan ...Tu jo mere naal toh rehnda tur meriya sahan ...jeena Mera hayy....hun tera...kii mein kara..Tu kar atebar mera mein karun intezaar tera...tu dil tu yon jaan meri..🎶."
"Aadhya, eyes here," he said softly. I had no choice. I looked up and drowned in his dark eyes.
They looked so many things at once—soft, dark, tired, and heavy with a weight I didn't understand.
Suddenly, the dance wasn't a disaster anymore.
It was perfect. Our movements became a silent conversation. He nudged me slightly, and I flowed around him, my fingers trailing against his as I spun out, only for him to reel me back in.
I landed against him, my hand instinctively coming up to rest on his cheek. We stared at each other, the rest of the world blurring into a smear of neon lights.
Other couples drifted away, some stopping to watch us, but I didn't care.
He gripped my waist and lifted me high. I opened my arms, feeling like I was flying through the smoke and the music, as he spun me around before gently setting me down. I landed with my hands flat against his chest, the heat of him radiating through his shirt. The intimacy was suffocating in the best way possible.
I looked away, my mind a battlefield of "what ifs."
What if he finds out about my abusive past and looks at me with pity? What if he actually likes me back? What if Nikansh finds out and they fight again because of me? But the biggest fear, the one that made my breath hitch, was the fear of rejection.
I didn't want the music to stop. I wanted the clock to break right here, before he turned back into the idiot.
Suddenly, he rested his forehead against mine. I startled, but instinctively pulled him closer, my nose brushing his neck. He smelled like a faint hint of cigarettes and something uniquely him—an intoxicating, clean scent that made my head spin.
I knew then.I was gone.I had fallen for him, completely and utterly. He began to hum, then softly sing along with the song.
I panicked—the vulnerability was too much.
I tried to pull away, to put some distance between my feelings and his presence, but Vivaan wasn't having it. He pulled me forward, his grip firm and commanding. He did the only thing that could truly silence my racing thoughts: he kissed me.
It wasn't like the kiss in PE—that felt like a display of power, a lack of respect.
This was different. This was soft, lingering, and naturally desperate. It shook my entire being.
I tried to pull back for a split second, terrified he'd catch the "I love you" written all over my face, but he only deepened the kiss, his lips moving against mine with a tenderness that felt like a promise.
My arms tightened around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair as I finally stopped fighting and moved my lips along his. He pulled away just an inch, both of us breathing heavily, our foreheads still touching. I stared at him, my lips tingling, wanting to scream, What does this mean?
But he remained silent, his eyes searching mine in the quiet aftermath of the music....😳❤️