CHAPTER 1

"Life is like an ice cream—enjoy it before it melts."

For Sara, enjoyment meant security. It meant home, family, and the quiet warmth of a simple life. A world where nothing unexpected happened.

Predictability.

It was a safety net, a constant that assured her everything was okay. That was all she ever wanted. Or at least, that's what she had convinced herself to believe.

---

"Sara, what are you doing? You're going to be late!"

Her mother's sharp voice sliced through the morning air as she barged into the room unannounced.

Sara flinched, her pen slipping from her fingers, leaving behind an unfinished sentence in her notebook.

Annoyance flickered in her chest as she turned toward her mother.

"Not again."

"Mother, please! Can you at least knock before coming in?"

Her mother scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh? Now I need permission to enter anywhere in my own house?"

Sara tensed immediately.

The sharp tone. The raised eyebrows.

She knew that look. Knew exactly where this was heading.

Sighing, she stood up and approached her mother, trying to diffuse the tension before it escalated into a full-fledged argument.

"And why in the world was the door shut?" Her mother's voice hardened, her eyes narrowing.

Sara hesitated, scrambling for an excuse. "I… uh… needed privacy?"

Her mother let out a mocking laugh. "Privacy?"

Sara exhaled, trying to keep her frustration in check. "Mummy, I was studying."

Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine! Do whatever you want. I don't care!" She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving the door wide open behind her.

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Sara swallowed the lump in her throat, sinking back into her chair. It wasn't about the door anymore. It was about something much bigger—the fact that, no matter how old she got, she was never going to have control over her own space.

She had never minded it before. She liked being an open book, always within reach of her family. But lately, she had started to crave something more—something as simple as shutting her door without it being a problem.

But in a house where everything, every single thing, was a group project, was that even possible?

Letting out a tired sigh, she packed up her things.

---

Downstairs, her father was seated on the sofa, dressed in formal attire, carefully turning the pages of his newspaper while sipping his last cup of tea.

The distant clatter of utensils echoed from the kitchen, a rhythm only her mother could create.

Sara didn't have time to walk today—she was already late. And today, she couldn't afford to miss college.

Taking a cautious step toward her father, she hesitated before asking, "Baba, can you drop me off?"

Her father gave her a brief nod, signaling her to wait. But then, as he looked up and noticed the tension in her expression, his brows furrowed.

"What happened?"

Before Sara could respond, her mother's voice rang out from the kitchen, laced with sarcasm.

"Madam needs privacy! Even after having her own room, she wants another space!"

Sara shut her eyes for a brief second, exhaling through her nose.

Her father gave her a knowing look, as if he had already pieced together the entire argument.

Neither of them said another word as he drove.

But when they reached the college gates, he placed a reassuring hand on her head before she stepped out.

"We love you, beta."

Sara forced a smile, nodding. "I know, Baba."

Then she turned and hurried toward the entrance—

Only to realize the gates were about to close.

"No, no, no!"

She sprinted, weaving through the flood of students pushing their way inside, her bag bouncing against her shoulder.

Just as she let out a frustrated sigh—

A sharp slap landed on her back.

"Ow!" Sara yelped, whipping around.

Sana grinned beside her. "Why so serious?"

Sara groaned, rubbing her shoulder. "Nothing. Just… simple issues."

Sana raised a brow. "Simple? Right. I don't buy it. Anyway, weren't you supposed to return tomorrow from your so-called Bali trip?"

Sana let out a dramatic sigh. "Yeah, but Saransh's friend had to leave early because of some family emergency, so we all came back. But trust me, those few days were magical! If I tell you what I saw, you'll forget all your worries—"

Sara smirked, pretending to listen, nodding absently while repeating, "Wow. Really? That's amazing."

Sana gasped, nudging her. "You're so annoying."

But then her expression turned mischievous. "Anyway, how would you know what fun is? Your family doesn't even let you go for a sleepover at this age."

Sara's footsteps faltered.

That mockery—that exact mockery—was forbidden in their friendship.

Her face burned. Annoyance prickled under her skin.

"I don't know what fun is? Me?"

"Okay then, why do you even hang out with me?"

Rolling her eyes, she picked up her pace, walking ahead of Sana.

"Hey! I was just joking!" Sana called after her.

Sara smirked but kept walking, pretending to be mad.

But then—

"Move aside!"

Sana's voice turned urgent.

Sara frowned, turning back to look at her. "Huh? What? Why—?"

Before she could react—

She crashed.

Hard.

Into something solid.

Something warm.

A sharp inhale escaped her lips as her balance wavered.

Holy moly, I'm going to fall!

She closed her eyes scared.

But just as she braced herself for impact—

Huh? It doesn't hurt ???

She didn't hit the cold ground.

Wait it feels---

A strong, steady grip wrapped around her waist, stopping her fall.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, her brain refused to catch up.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

And drowned in his worried gaze.

Dark brown. Deep. Intense. A flicker of concern within them.

His thick lashes framed his gaze, casting faint shadows across his skin.

Her fingers, instinctively grabbing onto his shirt, curled around the fabric.

And then, she realized—

She was pressed against him.

Too close.

Heat crawled up her neck.

The warmth of his touch sent an unfamiliar, electric sensation down her spine.

His fingers flexed slightly against her waist, and she felt the heat of his palm even through the layers of wet fabric.

A sharp inhale escaped her lips.

Her stomach flipped, her skin tingling where his fingers held her.

Her muscles tensed, every nerve in her body hyper-aware of his touch.

She tried to push herself up—

But her balance was off.

And just like that—Her knees wobbled, 

She stumbled again.

his time, she fell forward, her face dangerously close to his.

Her eyes locked onto his deep-set, almond-shaped gaze.

His sculpted features—so sharp, so achingly perfect—felt as though they belonged to a dream. A straight nose. Full lips, slightly parted. A light stubble kissed his jawline, adding an innocent charm to his otherwise aristocratic face.

His thick, wavy black hair framed him like an artist's masterpiece

Her hands rested against his chest, where she could feel the firm warmth of his body beneath the layers of fabric.

And his heartbeat.

Strong. Steady. Right beneath her palm.

Her stomach flipped.

His grip on her waist tightened slightly.

Sara's breath faltered.

A slow, unbearable warmth spread through her.

For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

Then—

"Wait."

His deep, husky voice brushed against her ear.

Sara stiffened.

Her fingers twitched against his shirt.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

He was close. Too close.

His fingers slid from her waist to her shoulder, steadying her.

His touch was brief, fleeting—

But it was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Her pulse hammered as her body betrayed her, frozen in place.

And then—

"Sara!"

Sana's voice shattered the moment.

Sara snapped back to reality.

Heart still racing, she quickly stepped away—

Only to stumble again.

This time, his hands caught her shoulders.

Their eyes met once more.

The world went silent.

Time froze.

And then—

"Sara!"

Sana reached them, panting.

She turned to the boy—

And her eyes widened.

"Arshad?" she breathed.

Sara's heart stopped.

Slowly, she turned back.

And met his gaze again.

Something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable.

Something intense.

Sara blinked in confusion, her heart still racing.

She turned to Sana, whispering urgently, "Who is he?"

Sana gave her a knowing look, silently promising to explain later.

Her legs wobbled, but this time Sana caught her, steadying her.

She dared to glance at him one last time.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—

They were still locked onto hers.

Dark. Intense. Unwavering.

Sara's throat went dry. with that they left.