“You’re very extra.”
“I prefer ‘thoughtful.’” I huff softly and walk over to him. Close enough that the distance between us feels…intentional.
“Is this your way of apologizing again for force feeding me?” I ask, raising a brow.
His expression softens slightly. “No, you have very concerning appetite for someone who’s a grown adult so I am not saying sorry for that,” he mumbles. “This is me not wanting to wait for a reason to do something for you.”
My eyes widen a bit and I feel my heart warming. I don’t respond right away. Because I don’t trust my voice. He reaches out slowly, taking my hand in his. The movement is gentle. Like he’s giving me time to pull away. I don’t. His thumb brushes lightly over my knuckles.
“Ishika…” I look up. He lets go of my hand only to reach into his pocket and pulls out a small box. As he opens it the ruby catches the candlelight, deep red, glowing softly like it holds its own warmth.
My breath stills. “Aryan…”
“I know,” he says quietly. “Before you start—just listen, okay?”
I swallow. “I’m not giving you this because you need it,” he continues, stepping closer. “And I’m not giving it to you because I expect something back.”
His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “I’m giving it to you because I saw it and thought of you.”
My chest tightens. “It felt like you,” he adds, softer now. “Strong. Quiet. Not trying to be noticed but impossible to ignore once you do.” My fingers curl slightly at my sides. “And I wanted to give you something that stays,” he finishes.
“This is too much,” I whisper, even though my voice doesn’t hold the same resistance it usually does.
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not,” he repeats gently. “But if it makes you feel better, you can pretend it is and still keep it.”
I almost laugh. God. He takes my hand again. This time, when he slides the ring onto my finger, I don’t stop him. It fits perfectly. Of course it does. I stare at it for a second. Then back at him. Unable to understand what to say I exhale softly. “Don’t make a habit of this.”
“Can’t promise that.” He shrugs and I shake my head, but I don’t take it off.
That’s answer enough for him because his hand slides up, fingers brushing lightly along my jaw, tilting my face just enough. There’s a question in his eyes, as if asking for permission to kiss me, I don’t hesitate this time. I close the distance first. The kiss starts soft. Slow. But there’s something underneath it—something that’s been building,waiting, stretching across every almost moment we’ve had. His hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer. My fingers curl into his shirt. His forehead rests against mine when we finally pause. Breath uneven. Close enough to feel everything. “You’re dangerous,” I whisper.
His lips brush the corner of my mouth. “Only for you.”
CHAPTER 56
ARYAN
I never thought I’d willingly sit through Stranger Things. Not just sit through it—host a group viewing like some kind of emotionally invested participant.
If anyone had told me a few months ago that I’d be on my own couch, with my mother knitting in the corner, my sister aggressively policing screen silence, my brother grunting like a disapproving background character, and Ishika curled into my side while a monster from another dimension stalks teenagers on screen—I would’ve laughed out loud. And then changed the topic. But here we are. Life is strange like that.
The living room is dim except for the television, the blue glow flickering across familiar faces. The curtains are drawn, snacks scattered across the table—most of which Radhika has already claimed as her personal property—and there’s this quiet, underlying hum of comfort that I don’t think I’ve ever really noticed before.
Or maybe I have. Maybe I just didn’t know what to call it.
“Shh!” Radhika hisses, throwing a cushion in my direction without even looking at me. “This is an important scene.”
“I didn’t even say anything,” I protest.
“You are breathing too loudly.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“It is in this house when I’m watching my show.” I open my mouth to argue, but Ma cuts in before I can.
