49

Tara sat on the couch, the buzz of the party around her fading into white noise. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of her glass as she watched the others dance under the dim, flashing lights.

Rohan and Karan were hyping each other up, Aakash was pulling some ridiculous moves, and Aisha and Aria were twirling each other around, laughing breathlessly. Aryan was there too, moving effortlessly, his body in sync with the rhythm, laughing at something Aakash said.

For once, he wasn't looking at her.

Tara exhaled, running a hand through her hair, trying to process everything. The almost-kiss in the cupboard, the way he looked at her during the eye contact game, the way he still knew her. It was messing with her head.

And speaking of her head... it was spinning.

Her glass was empty again. She wasn't even sure how many drinks she had taken by now, but warmth was spreading through her veins, replacing all the confusion with a sudden burst of energy.

Before she could think twice, she stood up, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

She stepped onto the dance floor.

Aisha and Aria's heads snapped toward her, their eyes widening.

"Oh my god," Aisha breathed. "Tara is dancing?"

Aria nudged her. "No, Tara is fully letting go."

Tara didn't care.

The music vibrated through her, and she just moved. Her arms above her head, hips swaying, hair falling over her face as she let the beat take over.

Aisha and Aria joined in instantly, cheering her on, matching her energy.

But Tara didn't notice Aryan—who had definitely noticed her.

He stood still for a second, watching her, his jaw clenching when he realized she was definitely drunk.

She wasn't usually like this. She was always in control, always measured. But right now? She was free.

Aryan sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping forward, maneuvering his way toward her.

He didn't stop her.

Didn't try to pull her away.

But he stayed close.

Just enough to catch her if she needed him.

~•~

The party was winding down. The music had softened, people were heading out in groups, and the once lively studio was now dimly lit, filled with the murmurs of tired conversations.

But Tara?

Tara still had too much energy.

She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, swaying slightly, a dreamy smile on her lips as she hummed the last song that had played. Aisha, watching her closely, exhaled.

"Guys," Aisha said, turning to the group. "She's still super drunk. What do we do?"

Aakash leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. "Maybe let her sleep here?"

"No," Aryan spoke up immediately. His voice was calm, but firm. "She needs to go home. She'll sleep better there."

Aisha's gaze flickered between Aryan and Aria, as if silently communicating.

Then, she gave a reassuring smile.

"Aryan," she said, crossing her arms. "You take her home."

Aakash nearly choked. "Wait, what?"

Aria, however, just shrugged. "Honestly? Yeah. Whatever it might be, Aryan is the best person for her right now." She paused. "And they're neighbors, so it makes sense."

The others murmured in agreement.

Aryan didn't protest.

Instead, he sighed, walked over to the couch, and without a word, scooped Tara up into his arms.

She gasped, blinking up at him, clearly confused. "Aryan?"

"Shh," he muttered, adjusting his hold. "You're going home, Star."

She blinked at the nickname but didn't fight him. Instead, she rested her head against his chest, still blabbering softly about something he couldn't quite catch.

He carried her out, nodding at the others before stepping into the elevator.

Aryan entered her studio, his hold on her steady as he nudged the door open. The warm glow of fairy lights illuminated the space, casting soft shadows. He carefully placed her onto the couch, stepping back, watching as she blinked up at him, looking dazed.

She mumbled something.

"What?" he asked, kneeling beside her.

She pouted slightly. "I said... you smell nice."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're impossible when you're drunk."

She hummed, leaning back, her eyes fluttering closed. Aryan stood, moving toward the kitchenette, grabbing a lemon and some honey. Within minutes, he had a glass of lemonade ready.

He walked back to her, crouching in front of her. "Drink this, Tara."

She peeked at the glass and groaned. "No."

"Yes," he said, more amused than annoyed. "Come on, sit up."

She sighed dramatically but let him help her sit. He held the glass to her lips, waiting.

"Drink, Star," he murmured, voice softer now.

Something in his tone made her listen. She took a sip. Then another. He watched her carefully, making sure she drank enough before setting the glass aside.

He sat beside her.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, Tara suddenly turned to him, eyes bright. "Aryan, I still wanna dance."

He raised a brow. "You can barely sit straight, Tara."

She huffed, pushing herself up, wobbling a little. "Please?"

Aryan sighed, shaking his head with a smile. Then, he pulled out his phone.

One click.

A familiar playlist popped up on Spotify.

Their playlist.

He still had it saved.

Tara stilled.

The soft notes of a song they once loved filled the room. It wasn't upbeat—it was slow, melodic, filled with nostalgia.

She turned to him, something unreadable in her eyes.

Aryan stood, walking toward her, hesitating for only a second before placing his hands gently on her waist. "Come here," he murmured.

Tara let him pull her in.

Their bodies swayed, slow and effortless.

His hand rested on the small of her back, fingers grazing the fabric of her crop top. Her arms were wrapped loosely around his shoulders, her breath warm against his neck.

Neither of them spoke.

The past and present blurred together as they moved, caught in their own little world.

Aryan could feel his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. She was right there.

So close.

Too close.

He was fighting it. The urge to kiss her. The ache in his chest. The feeling that after all this time, after all the hurt, this still felt like home.

His fingers curled slightly against her waist.

Then, softly, hesitantly—"Tara," he whispered. "Can I please hug you?"

She didn't respond at first.

Then, just the slightest nod.

That was all he needed.

Aryan pulled her in completely, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly.

Tara sighed against his shoulder, melting into him.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them moved.

And Aryan didn't notice—he didn't even realize it himself—

But a single tear slipped down his cheek, disappearing into the darkness as he looked down and smiled at the girl in his arms.

💜