24

The next day, Tara sat with Aisha and Aria in the middle row center of their classroom. They were earlier for their class but they used the time to catch up. The atmosphere was relaxed, but Tara couldn't shake the restlessness gnawing at her. She was explaining everything that had been happening with Aryan—how they had been working together on the project, the visits, the long nights—and yet, there was something she couldn't put into words.

Her voice softened, and she confided, "My guard is falling... and it scares the hell out of me. I don't want that to happen."

Aisha and Aria exchanged a glance. Aisha, always the practical one, leaned forward, her expression serious. "Tara, listen. If you're this affected, then maybe it's time you ask him about the past. What happened between you two? Why are you running away from it?"

Tara shifted in her seat, the tension in her shoulders betraying her discomfort. "I know it's been a mess, but Aisha, if he wanted to talk about the past, he would have. He hasn't, and I think it's best if we leave it. I just... don't want to open old wounds."

Aria, who had been silently listening, now spoke up. "But Tara, it's eating you up, isn't it? And the longer you avoid it, the harder it's going to be."

Tara's hand curled around her coffee cup, her knuckles pale as she gripped it tightly. "I stopped him. I'm the one who pushed him away back then. So... maybe he's just respecting my space."

Aisha wasn't convinced. "You can't keep running, Tara. If he's making an effort now, you owe it to yourself to know where you stand."

Tara's thoughts were a whirl of conflicting emotions. She could feel the small smile tug at the corners of her lips, despite herself, but the thought of confronting the past—of opening those doors—felt like something she wasn't ready to face.

"I don't know how to do this," Tara admitted, feeling a wave of panic rise. "I'm scared. What if I'm making the wrong choice?"

Aria's voice was gentle but firm. "Look, Tara. Just stick to the work. Focus on that. You don't need to talk to him about anything else right now. Just... take it slow."

Tara nodded, trying to breathe through the anxiety gnawing at her. She needed to focus on the task at hand, at least for now. The rest—her feelings, Aryan—could wait.

Just then, class started, and Tara's gaze flickered to the door. She could see Aryan walking in, his usual confident stride, but her stomach tightened. Before he could approach, she called out, "Aakash, come sit here!"

Aakash, thankfully, heard her and made his way to the seat beside her. Tara let out a silent sigh of relief, feeling the tension in her shoulders relax a little. She quickly averted her eyes, feeling an unexpected calm wash over her now that Aryan wouldn't sit beside her.

But Aryan had caught the look. His eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched at his sides, though no one could see it. His posture stiffened, and Tara could feel his gaze lingering on her, even though she wasn't looking at him.

Aisha and Aria exchanged knowing glances, but Tara remained quiet, focusing on anything but Aryan.

During class, Tara and Aakash whispered to each other occasionally, exchanging notes and laughing softly over something trivial. Their easy conversation was natural, but Aryan noticed every single word, every glance, every smile. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched beneath the desk. He tried to focus on the lecture, but the low sound of Tara's laughter with Aakash grated against his chest, stirring something primal and possessive inside him.

When class ended, the girls walked back to their accommodation together, their laughter echoing through the corridors. One by one, Aisha and Aria got off on their respective floors, leaving Tara alone in the elevator for the final stretch to her studio.

As she stepped out and reached for her key, she heard the soft click of another door opening. Aryan.

He leaned against his studio doorframe, arms crossed, eyes dark with something unreadable. "Tara," he said, his voice low.

She froze for a second before looking over her shoulder. Their eyes met. She didn't reply. Instead, she turned back to her door, trying to fit the key into the lock.

Before she could register it, he was right there—swift, fluid. His hand pressed flat against the wall beside her, blocking her in. His body was close, but not touching. Not yet. His presence was overwhelming.

"Star, You're mine," he murmured, his voice rough, edged with jealousy and desire. "I may not have the full rights to you yet, but I'm still yours and you're still mine Tara—I won't see you with anyone else."

His words hit her like a bolt, her chest tightening. She looked up at him, eyes flashing. "I'm not yours. And if you have such an issue seeing me with someone else, then don't look, Aryan. Look somewhere else. Go find another girl."

He let out a low, dark chuckle, the sound vibrating through the air between them. His eyes softened, but the intensity remained. "You still don't get it, do you? There's no one else, Tara. Only you. You've ruled my heart for as long as I can remember... and there's no room for anyone else."

Her breath hitched. She hated how her heart responded to him, how it betrayed her every time he spoke like this. She wanted to push him away, but her body stayed still—rooted in place, drawn to him like it always had been.

He leaned in slightly, his gaze dropping to her lips for a second before meeting her eyes again. But he didn't kiss her. Instead, he gently pressed his lips to her forehead—lingering, tender.

When he pulled back, his tone softened, laced with genuine concern. "Jevan timeshi karunghe, okay?" he said, his voice gentle yet firm, like he'd said it to her a hundred times before. (Eat your food timely, okay?)

She nodded slightly, not trusting herself to speak. He stepped back, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned and walked to the elevator. He pressed the button, and as the doors slid shut, he gave her one last look.

Tara stood there, her key still in the lock, her heart racing wildly. She let out a shaky breath, hand brushing against her forehead where his lips had been.

What the hell was he doing to her?

💜