64

The cultural night had finally come to an end. The energy had settled, the music had dimmed to a distant hum, and students were trickling out of the university gardens, still buzzing from the performances and the festivities. The fairy lights strung across the trees flickered softly, illuminating the pathways as groups of friends made their way back to their accommodations.

Aisha, Aria, Rohan, and Aakash had already left together, heading off for a late-night drive to grab snacks before crashing at their places. Tara had stayed behind—she had run into an old friend from her course, and they had gotten caught up in conversation.

Now, the university grounds were nearly empty. The occasional laughter echoed from afar, but for the most part, the night was quiet. Tara finally bid her friend goodbye and started making her way back home, wrapping her arms around herself as the cool night breeze brushed against her skin.

She had barely made it past the main courtyard when she spotted him.

Aryan.

Leaning casually against a lamppost a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his kurta-paired jeans, watching her. His gaze was unreadable, but the soft glow from the streetlight above highlighted the hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Tara frowned slightly, confused. Why was he still here?

As if reading her thoughts, Aryan pushed off the post and walked toward her, his steps unhurried. "You stayed back long."

She shrugged. "Ran into a friend."

He hummed in acknowledgment, then fell into step beside her. "I was waiting."

Tara glanced at him, brows furrowing. "For what?"

His lips twitched. "You."

Her steps faltered for just a second before she caught herself. "You didn't have to," she muttered, looking straight ahead.

Aryan didn't respond right away. He just walked beside her, matching her pace. "I wanted to."

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was something else entirely, something heavier, something charged. The only sounds were the occasional rustling of leaves and the steady rhythm of their footsteps against the pavement.

After a moment, Tara exhaled slowly. "It was a good night."

Aryan smirked. "You mean, you were good tonight."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. "I meant all of it."

Aryan tilted his head slightly, watching her. "You had fun?"

She nodded. "Yeah. More than I thought I would."

"Even with me around?" he teased.

Tara sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."

Aryan chuckled. "You're getting too comfortable insulting me, star."

She just shook her head, but her smile lingered.

As they continued walking, the conversation naturally eased into something softer, something less playful.

Aryan was the one to break the silence. "You've been different lately."

Tara glanced at him, raising a brow. "Different how?"

He looked ahead, his expression thoughtful. "Less... guarded."

Tara pressed her lips together. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Aryan shot her a look. "I think you do."

She sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe I just stopped overthinking everything."

Aryan raised a brow. "Or maybe you're realizing that what you're fighting isn't worth fighting."

Tara let out a soft laugh. "You really think you're that irresistible, huh?"

Aryan smirked. "No. I know I am."

She groaned. "Unbelievable."

They walked in silence for a bit after that, but something unspoken lingered between them, something that neither of them was quite ready to say out loud.

And then, the first raindrop landed on Tara's cheek.

She blinked up at the sky, then at Aryan. "Was that—"

Before she could finish, the drizzle turned into a full-fledged downpour.

The rain came down fast, soaking them within seconds. Tara gasped at the suddenness of it, but instead of running, she tilted her head up, closing her eyes as the cool water drenched her skin.

Aryan sighed, opening his umbrella without hesitation. "Tara, come under it."

She just shook her head, laughing softly as the rain poured down on her. "Nope."

Aryan stared at her for a moment, then let out a long breath. "Of course not."

And then, without another word, he folded the umbrella and tucked it by his side, stepping fully into the rain with her.

Tara turned to him, eyes wide. "Aryan—"

"You're not the only one who gets to enjoy the moment," he said simply.

She blinked at him before breaking into laughter. "You're ridiculous."

Aryan just shrugged, raindrops dripping from his hair. "Maybe. But you're smiling, so I don't mind."

Her laughter faded slightly at his words, her heart stuttering at the way he was looking at her—soft, intent, like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Aryan reached out, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. His fingers were warm against her chilled skin, and she froze at the sudden contact.

His hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

The rain poured around them, drenching their clothes, their hair, but neither of them moved.

Tara swallowed. "Aryan..."

He stepped closer, his voice lower now. "You look beautiful."

She blinked, her breath catching.

The way he was looking at her—dark eyes locked onto hers, unwavering—sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the rain.

They were close now, too close.

Her heart was pounding against her ribs, her pulse wild. She should step back. She should say something.

But she didn't.

Instead, Aryan lifted his hand again, this time brushing his knuckles lightly against her jaw. "You have no idea how hard it is to not kiss you right now," he murmured.

Tara's breath hitched.

She parted her lips slightly, her body betraying her mind, because she wasn't stopping him. She wasn't moving away.

And Aryan noticed.

A slow smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, just slightly, just enough that she could feel his breath against her skin. "Tell me to stop."

She should.

She really, really should.

But the words didn't come.

Instead, her lashes fluttered, her fingers twitching at her sides.

And Aryan saw that too.

His smirk deepened. "That's what I thought."

The air between them felt thick, charged with something undeniable. Tara's breath came in short, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling as she felt Aryan's fingers brush against her cheek. His touch was featherlight, but it sent a deep shiver down her spine.

She should move. Say something. Anything.

But she couldn't.

Aryan's gaze flickered between her eyes and lips, his own breath slightly unsteady now. "Say you don't feel it, and I'll stop," he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading.

Tara swallowed, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. Because she couldn't lie. Not to him. Not to herself.

Aryan exhaled sharply, his hand tightening around her waist, his fingers spreading against her skin where her saree's pallu had shifted. His warmth burned through the fabric of her blouse, making her feel weightless, breathless.

"Star..." his voice was husky, raw.

Tara closed her eyes for a brief second, trying to regain control, but the moment she opened them, he was already leaning in, slowly, giving her the chance to pull away. But she didn't.

Her lashes fluttered as his lips finally brushed against hers—tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But then, when Tara didn't move away, he pressed in deeper, his mouth molding perfectly against hers.

A sharp inhale escaped her as his other hand came up to cup her face, tilting it just right. He kissed her slowly, deliberately, savoring every second.

Tara's hands, as if acting on their own, reached up, gripping his shirt tightly. She felt the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingers, the way his breath hitched when she slightly pulled him closer.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent. Aryan groaned softly against her lips, and the sound sent a tremor through her body. His grip on her waist tightened, pressing her further against the wall, caging her in completely.

Tara's fingers slid up, tangling into his hair, and that was it—Aryan lost all restraint. He tilted her head, his lips moving against hers with more intensity, more desperation, like he was making up for all the time they had lost.

A faint moan escaped her, and Aryan responded instantly, pulling her impossibly closer. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her chest, mirroring her own.

Time didn't exist. There was only him. Only this.

And then—air.

Aryan pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot and uneven. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something unspoken, something dangerous.

Tara was shaking, her lips still parted, her heart racing out of control.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, just breathing each other in.

Then, Aryan smirked—his signature, cocky smirk that made her stomach flip. His thumb brushed against her swollen bottom lip, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Still want to tell me you feel nothing?" he murmured, his voice teasing, but his eyes held something deeper.

Tara's throat was dry, her body still buzzing from the electricity of his touch. She could barely think straight.

But instead of answering, she did the only thing her body seemed to be begging her to do—she pulled him in again, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was just as desperate, just as filled with longing as the first.

Aryan groaned against her mouth, smiling slightly as he kissed her back, as if he'd been waiting for this moment forever.

And maybe he had.

Maybe they both had.

💛