A pale golden light seeped through the tall, arched windows of the dance auditorium, painting long strokes across the polished wooden floor. The storm had passed. The air felt heavy with the scent of rain and something warmer—something unspoken that had bloomed between them during the long, electrified night.
Adah stirred first.
Her lashes fluttered open, brushing against the curve of her cheek. For a moment, her breath caught as her vision adjusted to the morning light and she realized exactly where she was—curled beside Devansh, her head resting gently on the thick muscle of his upper arm, his leather jacket still wrapped tightly around her.
His scent lingered—crisp, woodsy, and uniquely him. It made her head feel light and her chest ache.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t.
Adah just watched him, his face so close to hers, his expression peaceful and boyish in sleep. There was a softness in him like this—so different from the intense, calculating Devansh she saw in school. Here, he looked like a boy who once knew how to dream, who carried stars in his eyes before shadows settled in.
She soaked it all in—his long lashes, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the faint shadow of stubble across his sharp jaw. She’d never been this close to anyone before. Never let herself feel so much. It terrified her how much she didn’t want to move.
A slight movement broke the stillness. His fingers twitched. She instinctively glanced down, realizing her own had wandered too close—grazing his.
He stirred.
Devansh’s lashes lifted slowly, eyes dark and unreadable, but soft when they landed on her.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice husky from sleep.
“Hi,” she breathed, a little too quickly.
For a long second, neither moved. The air was full of morning silence and something fragile hanging between them.
“You okay?” he asked, concern edging his words.
She nodded, biting her lip. “I think so.”
He gave her a slow smile, not his usual smirk but something gentler. “You called me Ansh.”
Adah’s cheeks bloomed red. She looked down, fiddling with the hem of his jacket wrapped around her. “I—I was scared.”
“I liked it,” he said simply.
Their fingers brushed again—this time, purposefully.
The creak of a door broke the spell.
They both jumped slightly, blinking as the harsh hallway light spilled into the room.
“Devansh!” came the clear voice of a woman—elegant, concerned, and unmistakably maternal.
Mrs. Rathore stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with worry. She looked between them—her son and the girl half-curled in his jacket. But instead of sharpness or scolding, her expression softened into something warm. Something approving.
“Ma?” Devansh got to his feet quickly, gently helping Adah up too. “I’m sorry. My phone wasn’t working, and—”
“You don’t need to explain,” she interrupted, walking in. She glanced at Adah, who instinctively straightened, embarrassed. “You must be Adah.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she murmured.
Mrs. Rathore gave her a once-over, her eyes lingering on the jacket wrapped tightly around her, the softness on her face, the way Devansh stood just slightly too close. A smile pulled at her lips.
“You look like you’ve had quite the night,” she said kindly. “Dev didn’t come home. We were worried. Your parents must be, too.”
Adah hesitated. “They’re...out of town. At a wedding. They won’t be calling me until tonight.”
“Perfect,” Mrs. Rathore said with a decisive nod. “Then come home with us. You can rest, freshen up, have breakfast. You look frozen.”
Adah blinked. “Oh no, I—I couldn’t possibly—”
“Don’t argue with her,” Devansh murmured under his breath with a tiny smile. “She always wins.”
And somehow, ten minutes later, Adah found herself in the Rathore family car, still wrapped in Devansh’s jacket, sitting beside him in the back seat.
The car ride was quiet at first, filled with unspoken glances and subtle smiles.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Devansh said softly, leaning just a little closer. “I didn’t want this morning to end.”
Adah glanced at him. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Not dramatic,” he murmured. “Just... honest.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. Their shoulders brushed as the car turned a corner, and neither of them moved to create distance.
---
The Rathore Mansion
The mansion was nothing short of regal—grand pillars, cascading staircases, and large windows overlooking lush gardens. But inside, it felt warm. Alive.
“Dev!” came a shout as soon as they entered. A tall boy with messy hair jumped off the staircase. “You’re home? Finally—what happened? Did you run away with your mysterious girlfri—
He paused mid-sentence as his eyes fell on Adah.
Devansh glared. “Aryan, shut up.”
Aryan grinned, eyes twinkling as he turned to Adah. “So you’re the one who has our Dev acting all moody and poetic.”
“I’m not—” Dev started.
“I’m Adah,” she said, smiling awkwardly.
Before long, more cousins joined—Vivaan, Avni, even little Shreya, who shyly clung to Dev’s side and whispered, “Is she a princess?”
Adah laughed, her nervousness fading in the warmth of the household.
At breakfast, the table was full—of food and chatter. Fresh aloo parathas, buttered toast, fruit bowls, and laughter. The elders at the head of the table exchanged knowing glances. Devansh had never brought anyone home. Never looked at anyone the way he was looking at her.
“Adah,” Avni grinned. “You’ve got something on your cheek.”
Adah lifted a napkin quickly, but Devansh beat her to it—gently wiping a crumb away with his thumb. Her breath hitched.
“Much better,” he said casually, but his eyes held mischief.
Aryan coughed. “Someone’s in love.”
“I will throw my juice at you,” Dev muttered.
Adah couldn’t stop smiling.
After breakfast, Mrs. Rathore took her hand. “Come, beta. You need to rest. There’s a guest room on the second floor. Dev, show her.”
“Yes, Ma.”
They walked up slowly, the silence between them now thick with new comfort.
At the guest room door, Devansh paused. “Did you... sleep okay?”
Adah smiled. “Better than I have in a long time.”
He leaned against the wall. “You said chocolate cake is your favorite, right?”
She nodded.
“I’ll have one made.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
She looked at him, eyes full of wonder. “You’re... different when you’re not being scary, you know?”
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “And you’re beautiful when you forget to be scared.”
Adah’s breath caught again. Their eyes locked. For a second, the world felt far too quiet again.
Then she smiled. “Thank you, Ansh.”
He exhaled like the name was a prayer. “Anytime, Adah.”
And as she walked into the room and closed the door behind her, Devansh leaned his head back against the wall and smiled to himself.
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