Hold like a Dream

The drive back to the penthouse was a blur. Aksh barely felt the car beneath him, barely registered the city flashing past. Every second felt like a countdown.

By the time he reached, the tension in his chest had turned unbearable.

His men stood guard at the entrance, their stances rigid, weapons hidden but ready. They had done their job—Ahana was safe.

But that note…

"She is the past, but before you remember—I'll take her away."

A cold rage coiled in his stomach.

He shoved open the doors.

And there she was.

Standing in the middle of the room, Ahana looked like she had been caught in the eye of a storm—breathless, shaken, her wide eyes searching his face for answers.

For a long second, neither of them spoke.

They had been in the same space just hours ago, and yet—this moment felt like they were meeting after years.

Ahana's lips parted, her voice barely above a whisper. "What is happening?"

Aksh didn't answer immediately. His eyes traced her—memorizing her, as if reassuring himself that she was real. That she was here.

That she was safe.

A slow breath escaped him, and something inside his chest loosened.

"You're okay," he murmured, almost to himself.

Ahana took a step back. Confusion. Fear. A thousand unspoken questions.

"I—" Her voice wavered. "Aksh… what is happening?"

He took a step toward her, slow, careful. "I need you to trust me."

Ahana let out a breathless, bitter laugh. Trust?

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Trust? When masked men broke into this place? When Meher suddenly showed up with an entire army?"

Her voice rose, shaking. "When you left me here, completely clueless? And now—now you come back, looking at me like—like you haven't seen me in years—"

Aksh's jaw clenched. "Ahana—"

"Who were they? Who is after me?"

Silence.

Aksh's lips parted—but for the first time, he didn't have an answer.

Because even he didn't know the full truth.

Not yet.

Ahana exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You're scaring me, Aksh."

His heart gave a painful lurch. That was the last thing he wanted.

Slowly, carefully, he reached for her wrist. She stiffened, but didn't pull away.

His fingers brushed against her skin—warm, delicate, fragile.

"I will fix this," he said, voice steady, low. "I swear to you, I won't let anything happen to you."

Ahana swallowed. For a moment, she didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Then, barely audible—

"What are you not telling me?"

Aksh looked at her—truly looked at her.

The girl who had haunted his every thought. The girl whose presence had always felt too close, too familiar, even when they were strangers.

And now, someone wanted to take her away.

His grip tightened slightly.

Over my dead body.

But the truth?

He didn't even know why.

Ahana's hands trembled as she took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest.

She couldn't afford to fall apart.

Not now.

Not when everything around her was unraveling like a cruel nightmare.

Her voice was cold when she spoke. "I don't need your protection, Aksh."

Aksh flinched as if she had struck him. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Ahana had never seen him like this before.

Vulnerable.

Desperate.

"Don't," he rasped. "Don't push me away, Ahana."

Something in his voice—the raw, aching plea—broke something inside her.

Her breath hitched.

Her walls crumbled.

And before she could stop herself—she crashed into him.

Aksh barely had time to react before Ahana's arms wrapped around him, clinging to him like a lifeline. Her body trembled against his, and then—she broke.

A strangled sob tore from her throat.

"Why?" she whispered, voice cracking. "Why did you leave me?"

Her fingers twisted into his shirt, her sobs turning into broken, hiccuped whimpers.

"Where were you?!"

Aksh's arms came around her instantly, strong, secure—desperate. He held her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other pressing her closer to his chest.

She was shaking so hard.

He could feel the weight of everything she had been holding back.

"I was so scared," she whimpered, her breath warm against his skin. "I—" Her voice cracked, and she buried her face deeper into his chest.

Aksh's throat tightened painfully.

He shut his eyes. Damn it.

"I know," he whispered, his hand stroking her hair gently. "I know, Ahana."

Her sobs only grew harder, her fingers clutching at him like she was afraid he would disappear again.

Aksh swallowed. The guilt was suffocating.

He had never wanted this.

Never wanted to see her cry.

Never wanted to be the reason for her pain.

His grip on her tightened as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, voice barely above a whisper—a promise.

"I'm here now, Ahana."

He exhaled shakily, his own voice rough with emotion.

"And I swear—I won't leave you again."

---

Ahana's breathing was uneven, her body still trembling against Aksh's as the last of her sobs faded into quiet hiccups. His warmth surrounded her, his strong arms steady, unyielding. She hated how safe she felt—hated how much she needed it.

Slowly, she pulled back, just enough to look up at him.

And then—she froze.

His eyes.

Those hazel eyes that had haunted her dreams.

They were watching her now—so intense, so deep—like they saw through every layer she had ever tried to build around herself.

Her fingers twitched against his chest.

The way he was looking at her—it was dangerous. It was hypnotizing.

She tried to look away. She couldn't.

Those eyes held her still, drowning her in a warmth she didn't know how to escape from.

"You always do this," she whispered, almost accusingly.

Aksh tilted his head, eyes never leaving hers. "Do what?"

Ahana swallowed hard. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe properly with him this close.

"You look at me like that."

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Like what?"

She opened her mouth to argue—but words failed her.

How could she explain the way his gaze made her feel?

Like she wasn't just seen—but completely captured.

Like every time he looked at her, she was his.

Her heartbeat stuttered.

"You always do this to me," she admitted, voice softer this time. "I hate it."

Aksh's expression darkened, his amusement shifting into something deeper, something heavier.

His hand lifted—hesitant at first—before his fingers brushed against her cheek.

Ahana stiffened, but she didn't pull away.

His touch was gentle, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down her spine.

His thumb traced along the curve of her cheekbone. "Do you?" he murmured.

She hated how her breath caught.

She hated how much she didn't hate it.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, so softly she barely heard it, Aksh whispered—"I can't stop."

Ahana's heart slammed against her ribs.

His voice—so deep, so raw—sent a warmth curling through her chest, something terrifying and intoxicating all at once.

She knew she should step back. She knew she should say something, anything to break the spell.

But when he looked at her like that—she forgot how to run.

And maybe… just maybe… she didn't want to.

Ahana barely had time to process what was happening before she felt herself being lifted—effortlessly, like she weighed nothing at all.

"Aksh—!" she gasped, instinctively gripping his shirt as he cradled her against his chest.

"Shh," he murmured, adjusting his hold as if she was something delicate, something precious. "You've cried enough for today."

She should've protested. She should've fought to get down. But his arms were so warm, his touch so careful, and after everything—she was too tired to resist.

Her head rested against his shoulder, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her ear. She could feel every breath he took, the rise and fall of his chest lulling her into a strange sense of comfort.

"You carry me like I'm a child," she muttered, half pouting.

Aksh let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against her. "You're small enough to be one."

Ahana swatted weakly at his chest. "I'm not that small!"

His smirk softened, eyes tracing her sleepy features. "You are to me."

Something warm curled in her stomach.

He held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world—like he would never let her go.

"You're spoiling me," she mumbled, fingers curling into his shirt.

Aksh's gaze softened. "Then let me."

For the first time in forever, she didn't argue. She simply closed her eyes, sinking into his warmth, safe in the arms of the man who once felt like a dream.

The world outside could crumble, threats could lurk in the shadows, but here—wrapped in his arms—none of it mattered.

Ahana let herself sink into the warmth, her small fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt. The faint scent of him—smoke, rain, and something unmistakably Aksh—wrapped around her like a cocoon.

Aksh carried her to the couch and sat down with her still in his arms, refusing to let go. He shifted slightly, adjusting her like she was made of glass.

Ahana peeked up at him, her eyes hazy from exhaustion. Those hazel eyes—deep, intense, always hypnotizing—stared down at her like she was something he could never get enough of.

"Are you comfortable?" he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She wanted to say no, just to tease him, but instead, she sighed. "Too comfortable."

His lips twitched. "Good."

There was something dangerously tender in his voice, something that made her chest ache. How could a man like him be so gentle with her?

Ahana's fingers found his hand, tracing the rough skin, the scars hidden beneath the surface. Hands that had probably seen violence, but on her, they only knew softness.

She swallowed, her voice quiet. "You're not going anywhere, right?"

Aksh's grip tightened slightly. "Never again."

His tone left no room for doubt, but Ahana still held onto him a little tighter, afraid that if she let go, he might disappear like a dream.

"Good," she whispered, curling deeper into his warmth.

Aksh let out a breath, pressing his lips against the top of her head—a silent promise, a reassurance that, for now, they had this moment.

And for once, neither of them felt alone.