Days turned into months, and soon it would be the first anniversary of their marriage. Yet, between Smithen and Viran, barely a dozen words had passed. They had met only for a couple of hours total—never spent a full day or night together. Five months ago, Viran had already proposed divorce, offering three massive suitcases filled with compensation, along with a promise of alimony: thirty million every month for the next five years.
When Viran asked for a divorce, Smithen quietly slid the wedding ring off his finger. But despite the coldness of the offer, despite the money, Smithen wasn't ready to say yes. None of it moved him. Meanwhile, Viran seemed unaffected by the scandal that kept popping up—the news of his marriage to Akanya Shisha, the billionaire heiress, which had appeared for the fourth time just ten days ago.
Smithen didn't have the courage to call his mother and ask the question that burned inside him: why did Viran marry him in the first place? It didn't feel like a contract marriage or a marriage of convenience. Viran had everything—status, power, wealth. He didn't need anyone else to hold on to it.
Determined to stop overthinking, Smithen decided that on their first wedding anniversary, he would confront his mother directly. And he would finally divorce Viran. That, he thought, would be the last piece of dignity he could hold onto—the last thing he could protect before letting go of the man he had once loved so deeply. The same man he had been crazy for, to the point of being an anonymous online stalker and a secret letter sender.
Smithen is now in their third year of college. One year remained before graduation. The next semester would be for internships, and the final year would focus on projects or launching their own startups—selected at graduation by their professors and peers.
Smithen's swirling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Kiren's name lit up the screen. He picked up quickly.
"Hey," Kiren's cheerful voice burst out. "We're throwing a celebration tomorrow to mark finishing our third year, and we have a surprise for you. You have to come! I know you've been down since the news came out about Viran sir marrying Akanya Shisha—the billionaire heiress queen. But that's old news now. If it wasn't true, Viran could have taken it down, maybe even pressed legal charges. But he didn't. That only proves one thing: they really are married. Tomorrow, we're going somewhere that'll help you forget him completely."
Smithen's eyes filled with tears. To others, Viran was a stranger. But to Smithen, he had been love itself—pure devotion, unwavering and fierce. Letting go was hard to swallow.
"Okay, da," Smithen replied quietly. "I'll come. Send me the address. I'll be there on time."
After hanging up, Smithen noticed a new message pop up on his phone—this time from an unknown number. He ignored it and went to take a bath, then slipped into bed, the weight of everything pressing down on him.
Night wrapped the luxurious bedroom in shadows, and the distant hum of the city was a soft backdrop. Smithen lay still under the covers, his breath slow but uneven, his heart fluttering with a secret ache he'd never admitted. Tonight felt different. Something inside him had shifted—a restless warmth stirring beneath his skin. His eyes traced the ceiling, but his mind drifted away, tangled in quiet longings he'd carried alone for so long.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
Viran stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a dark flame—cold, commanding, yet irresistibly magnetic. Smithen's chest tightened as Viran's sharp gaze locked onto him, unreadable but intense. The air grew thick, charged with the weight of everything unsaid between them.
Without a word, Viran closed the space between them. His hand reached out slowly, cupping Smithen's cheek with firm yet gentle strength. The contrast sent a shiver down Smithen's spine.
Their eyes met—Viran's steady and sharp, Smithen's wide and trembling with hope and fear.
Then Viran leaned in.
Their lips met softly at first—a slow, deliberate brush that lingered with aching tenderness, drawing Smithen's breath into a quiet gasp as the warmth spread like a secret shared in the dark. The kiss unfolded with profound longing, Viran's mouth pressing gently, coaxing Smithen's lips to yield in a pull that hooked deep into his chest, making time stretch into an endless ache of closeness.
Smithen's hands trembled as they found Viran's broad shoulders, clinging to that solid warmth like a lifeline. The cold loneliness that had haunted him for months began to melt away, replaced by a fierce, aching longing finally met, each subtle shift of lips weaving their souls tighter.
Smithen's breath hitched. The scent of Viran's cologne—sharp, intoxicating—wrapped tightly around him. His mind raced with questions: Is this real? Am I finally seen? Is this the gift I've waited for all this time?
The kiss deepened, lips parting gently, breaths mingling as if the outside world had disappeared. Viran wetted his mouth with a slow swipe of his tongue, then let it touch Smithen's, a feather-light graze that sent sparks racing through them both. Every nerve in Smithen's body ignited—the warmness of Viran's touch contrasting with the cold night, creating a storm of sensation that left him yearning for the next breath, the next press.
Viran's hand moved from Smithen's cheek, sliding down tenderly to rest on his neck. His fingers traced soft circles, igniting sparks of pleasure that traveled through Smithen's skin, heightening the intimate pull between them.
Viran's lips left Smithen's and traveled down with deliberate tenderness, planting soft kisses along his adam's apple, trailing lower to the sensitive skin of his neck, and finally resting at the curve of his collarbone. The heat of his touch sent thrilling shivers through Smithen's body, each one a whisper of devotion that made his pulse quicken.
Then, without warning, the kiss shifted—sudden, sharp, and all-consuming, yet wrapped in layers of tender longing. Slowly, Viran swallowed Smithen's lower lip into his own, sucking gently with a hunger that pulled a soft moan from deep within, then moved to the upper lip, nipping it softly before his tongue took its place, delving in with bold, swirling strokes that explored every hidden corner. Their mouths fused in a rhythm that quickened, tongues dancing faster, tangling with wet, insistent slides that devoured the distance between them. At the same time, Viran's right hand slipped to the hem of Smithen's shirt, fingers deftly working the buttons open, exposing warm skin to the cool air; Smithen's nipples hardened instantly, peaking under the brush of fabric as it fell away. Viran paused just long enough to reach for the cup of water nearby, taking a slow sip that cooled his mouth before leaning back in, his lips now fresh and urgent as he kissed Smithen again, the faint taste of water mingling with their shared heat. Viran ate at him then, devouring with a possessive tenderness—lips sucking, tongue lapping in languid circles that hooked Smithen's very breath, drawing him deeper into the vortex of their longing, bodies leaning closer as if they could merge through the kiss alone.
Smithen's hands trembled as they tangled in Viran's hair, pulling him closer, while their mouths moved in a passionate dance—soft and fierce, gentle and insistent. Every touch, every caress was an unspoken confession. In that moment, vulnerability and desire collided, breaking through months of silence and distance, the kiss's endless pull leaving them both suspended in a haze of intimate fire.
Smithen's heart thundered, his body trembling with the overwhelming heat of a love that had been one-sided for so long, now finally returned, the lingering taste and touch making him crave its eternity.
Just as Smithen was lost completely in the kiss—his senses overwhelmed and his soul soaring—the sharp ring of a phone shattered the fragile bubble around them.
Viran's eyes flicked open, a flicker of regret crossing his face. The moment broke, leaving Smithen breathless and aching, the room suddenly colder, the gift slipping away like a fading dream.
Smithen glanced toward the ringing phone. Who could it be? Was it Viran, calling to discuss the details of their divorce? Or was it Kiren, reminding him about the celebration and the surprise?
Smithen's mind swirled with confusion and longing. Had he really just dreamed of a fulfilling wedding life? Could he still go through with the divorce after such a moment?
What surprise can make him forget Viran?