CHAPTER SIX

Devansh’s POV

Back in his room, Devansh shut the door behind him and dropped onto his bed, the soft thud of his body against the mattress barely registering over the echo of the day in his mind.

Adah.

Her name felt like a pulse beneath his skin.

He reached for his phone, his fingers already knowing where to go. The gallery. The last image.

There it was.

The selfie.

She had been asleep in the passenger seat, her head slightly tilted toward him, lips slightly parted, lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. And he… he had leaned in quietly, carefully, and clicked the picture—without waking her. A soft, secret moment. Just theirs.

In the photo, he was half-smiling. Not the cocky grin people knew him for. But something softer. Real. Like even the camera had caught him off guard with how peaceful he looked next to her.

He stared at it now, the screen lighting up his face in the dim room.

He had taken hundreds of photos in his life—cars, vacations, with his friends—but none of them made his chest ache like this one did. None of them made him pause, smile like a fool, and feel that strange fullness in his chest, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He zoomed in. Just a little. Her face.

God. She was beautiful.

Not in the loud, obvious way. But in the kind that crept under your skin and settled deep in your veins, quiet and warm.

He rested the phone against his chest and closed his eyes for a second.

And then his door burst open.

“Bhai!” Aryan’s voice shot through the room.

Devansh almost flung his phone in panic but shoved it under his pillow just in time.

“What the hell, Aryan!” he glared.

Aryan grinned. “Why are you smiling like that, haan? Who’s the girl?”

“I wasn’t smiling,” Devansh muttered.

“Liar. Ira saw you grinning like a total love-struck fool in the hallway. And now everyone’s waiting for you downstairs for dinner.”

Devansh sighed. There was no point escaping this circus.

By the time he reached the dining room, the teasing had already begun.

Vivaan smirked over his plate. “So? What’s her name?”

“Who?” Devansh played dumb, taking a seat.

“Don’t act clueless,” Ira chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been floating around like some lovesick poet all evening. Even Shreya noticed.”

From across the table, his niece Shreya—barely five years old—nodded solemnly. “Mamu was smiling with his teeth.”

Everyone laughed.

Devansh groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

Avni leaned in dramatically, grinning. “He’s seventeen and already lost in pyaar. This is better than Netflix.”

“Who is she?” Aryan pressed again.

“No one,” Devansh muttered, trying to keep the heat off his cheeks.

But the warmth spreading across his face was undeniable.

And though he wanted to stay cool, detached, unaffected...

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had looked at him when he handed her the pen. The way she blushed when he took a sip from her straw. The way she looked so peaceful in the car.

She was everywhere in his mind.

And despite all the teasing, despite the chaos around the dinner table, one thought stayed with him like a quiet hum beneath his skin:

She felt like his.

Even if she didn’t know it yet.

Unspoken storms

For the next two days at St. Aurora High, Adah turned silence into an art form.

And she used it against Devansh like a sword, sharp and deliberate.

It began in the classroom.

When Devansh slid into his seat beside her, she didn’t even glance at him. No flicker of acknowledgment. Just the sound of her pen against her notebook as she underlined the chapter heading twice and started writing like he wasn’t sitting a breath away.

"Morning, Adah," he tried softly, his voice low enough not to be heard by anyone else. It wasn't flirty. It wasn’t teasing. It was… trying. Gentle.

But she simply flipped the page.

He leaned forward, trying again. "You forgot your ruler yesterday. I—"

She slid her own ruler from her pouch with a clatter, not even looking up. Message received.

Then came the library.

They were supposed to meet there to work on the project. She arrived ten minutes earlier and deliberately chose a table near the librarian’s desk—far away from any cozy corners or hidden alcoves where Dev might try to talk beyond history notes. When he showed up, eyes instantly finding her, relief softening his otherwise guarded expression… she didn’t smile. Not even a twitch.

She pointed at the open textbook and said, without looking at him, “We’ll cover British Colonialism today. Let’s keep it fast. I have work to finish.”

And she meant it.

Every time he tried to lighten the atmosphere—whether by suggesting coffee from the canteen or commenting about the horrendous handwriting of their history teacher—Adah gave nothing back. No smile. No eye contact. Not even her usual soft hums of agreement. She was a fortress.

On the second day, when he tried to pull her chair closer so they could read from the same book, she moved her chair farther with an audible screech and calmly got up to get another copy of the same textbook from the shelf.

His jaw clenched.

She didn't even notice.

Or maybe she did. Maybe that was the point.

Later, during lunch, he walked past her in the corridor and said, "Kiara mentioned you're skipping the café today. Everything okay?"

Adah didn't stop walking. Didn’t turn. “Everything’s fine,” she replied curtly.

"Are you avoiding me?"

She paused at the water cooler. Her back stiffened but she didn’t turn around. “We have a project to finish. That’s all.”

He watched her walk away like her shoes didn’t even touch the floor—like she was floating away from him on purpose.

The final straw came the next morning when he found her speaking to the teacher—offering to work on the remaining project parts alone. Alone. Without him.

“I’ll finish it. I don’t want to waste anyone else’s time,” she had said, voice perfectly composed.

Devansh didn’t even wait for the teacher’s response. He walked up to Adah in three sharp steps, grabbed her wrist—not too tightly, but enough to make her breath catch—and pulled her out of the classroom and into the quiet, empty hallway.

The door clicked shut behind them.

He faced her fully, eyes wild, voice low and thick with controlled anger.

What the hell is your problem with me?”

Adah looked away, silent.

“Stop it,” he snapped, stepping closer. “Stop pretending I don’t exist, stop pretending like you didn’t laugh with me two days ago, like we didn’t share a damn chocolate milkshake, Adah.”

She bit her lower lip, fighting every part of her body that wanted to meet his eyes. But she stayed silent.

“Say something!” he nearly growled, fists clenched now, voice a strained whisper. “You can’t just… switch off. Not after—” He cut himself off, frustration lacing every breath. “Tell me what I did wrong.”

She finally looked up, and the storm in his eyes slammed into the calm glass of hers.

And she still didn’t speak.

He inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling. “You know what? Fine. You want to pretend like we’re strangers? Like you’re not affected? Then go ahead. But don’t expect me to pretend. Because I felt something, Adah. And you did too.”

Her throat bobbed with a swallowed breath.

His hand hovered near her face—for a second, he looked like he might brush that loose strand of hair near her cheek, like he always wanted to.

But he didn’t.

He stepped back. “Two more weeks. We’ll finish the project. After that, I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want.”

He walked away before she could stop him.

Before she could change her mind.

Before her silence broke.

And when he was gone, Adah stood alone in the hallway, spine pressed against the wall, clutching the file in her hand so tight her knuckles turned white.

Her heart was screaming.

But her lips—her lips didn’t move.

There was a silence between them now. A silence so thick it followed them through corridors, into classrooms, even into the library where they once shared a desk. Devansh hadn’t spoken a word to Adah in two weeks.

Not a glance. Not a smirk. Not a passing taunt.

But he still looked. God, he looked.

Every time she entered a room, his eyes found her. Like gravity. Like something invisible still tethered them together, no matter how much she pretended it didn’t exist.

Adah could feel it too. In the way her skin prickled. In the way her heart thudded every time she saw him sitting there—silent, simmering.

And while her lips were sealed, her eyes betrayed her. They flicked up from her books to where he sat across the class. Her lashes trembled when he looked too long. And her hands would fidget with her pen, tapping, twisting, doing anything to not fall into that trap again.

But this was what she wanted.

She told herself every morning.

She needed the silence.

Because Devansh Rathore was a hurricane in disguise. And she couldn’t afford to be swept up in him.

---

It had been two weeks since the history project ended. Two weeks since Devansh had glared at her in that hallway, his voice low and furious.

She remembered every word. Every line of anger that carved across his jaw. And every inch of restraint she had to summon just to walk away.

Now, with exams looming, she was grateful for the distance. She buried herself in notes, revision books, mock papers. Kiara offered her space, sensing the storm beneath her calm surface. Even Anaya looked worried but didn’t ask.

But the silence was not peace. It was just another kind of ache.

And then he arrived.

Rian.

He wasn’t in their class. He was in the humanities stream, a year transfer from another elite school. Arrogant, cocky, and annoyingly good-looking. The kind of boy who thought charm was currency and confidence could get him anything.

And when he first saw Adah standing alone near the stairs during the break, flipping through flashcards with her earbuds in, he grinned like he’d found a challenge.

He sauntered over, dressed in the loosely hung school blazer, tie half done, his posture lazy but deliberate.

"Adah, right?"

She didn’t look up immediately. Her lips moved in silent reading.

"Adah," he repeated, this time with a smirk. "You look like the only one here who actually takes these exams seriously."

She blinked up, frowning slightly. "Yeah. I do."

"I’m Rian. Transferred last month," he said smoothly. "Everyone talks about you. Genius girl. Silent type. Real intense."

Adah gave a tight smile, clearly uninterested. "That’s flattering, but I need to revise."

"Maybe I can revise with you?" he offered, inching closer.

She stepped back. "No. I’m better alone."

"C’mon. Just one topic. British Raj? Swadeshi Movement?"

She sighed, annoyed now. "Ask someone else. Please."

She turned to leave.

She didn’t see who was watching.

But Devansh had been standing at the far end of the hallway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His jaw clenched the moment Rian opened his mouth.

And the second he saw Rian lean forward, saw her recoil...

Something snapped.

He moved before he could stop himself.

His steps were long, fast, burning.

And in front of the entire hallway, he slammed his hand into Rian’s chest, shoving him hard against the lockers.

Rian stumbled, stunned. "What the hell, man?"

Devansh's eyes were fire. His voice was low. "You have five seconds to get out of my sight. Or I’ll rearrange your teeth."

Adah gasped. "Devansh!"

Rian straightened, rage and embarrassment boiling in his cheeks. "You think you can shove me around just because your daddy owns half the city?"

Devansh stepped closer, nose to nose now, his voice calm and lethal.

"You touch her again, Rian, and I swear I’ll make sure you wish you never stepped into this school."

Rian looked between Devansh and Adah, scoffed, and walked off muttering curses under his breath.

But Devansh wasn’t done.

He turned to Adah, his hand wrapping lightly around her wrist. Not harsh. Just enough to send a jolt through her.

"Come with me," he growled.

"Devansh—!"

He didn’t wait.

He pulled her gently but firmly down the hallway and into an empty classroom, shutting the door behind them.

The silence was deafening.

Adah’s heart pounded. Her eyes wide. His chest heaving.

He took a step forward.

She took one back.

Another step. Another retreat.

Until she hit the desk behind her.

He came close. Closer than he ever had.

His hands never touched her. But his presence surrounded her.

His voice dropped. "Why are you doing this to me, Adah?"

She didn’t answer.

"Two weeks," he said through gritted teeth. "Two weeks of silence. And now I see you with him?"

"I wasn’t with him. He came to talk to me. I didn’t even—"

"Don’t," he snapped. "Don’t defend that piece of shit."

Her eyes flashed. "You don’t get to control who talks to me."

"You’re right. I don’t," he said, stepping impossibly closer. "But I’m going to anyway."

His fingers moved slowly—gently brushing the side of her cheek, barely there, like a feather caught on a breeze.

She sucked in a breath.

"Don’t talk to him again," he whispered. "Don’t talk to anyone. Especially not any guy who looks at you like he wants to have you."

Her chest rose and fell, breath shallow. "Why?"

His eyes burned into hers. "Because you’re mine, Adah."

The words shattered something inside her.

"You can’t say that," she whispered. "You can’t just show up and decide I belong to you."

"I’m not asking you to belong to me," he said, voice low, trembling now. "I’m telling you. You do."

Tears stung the back of her throat, but she blinked them away.

"You don’t even know what you’re saying. You’re obsessed, not in love."

He leaned closer, eyes softening.

"Then why does it hurt so much when you ignore me? Why does silence from you feel louder than the rest of the world screaming in my ears?"

Adah shook her head. "Because you’re not used to hearing no. That’s all this is."

He exhaled, something breaking inside him. Something tender.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe it started that way. But not anymore."

She looked away.

He gently stepped back, giving her space.

"I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want me to," he said. "But Adah, don’t pretend you don’t feel this. Don’t pretend I’m the only one losing my mind here."

Adah stared at the floor, her fists clenched.

He turned to leave, stopping by the door.

"Just… be careful with that guy, Rian," he said. "He doesn’t see you the way I do. He doesn’t know you."

And then he was gone.

Leaving her alone in a room full of heat, chaos, and a heart that was no longer hers.