Chapter 34

When he texts her, he doesn't think about it too much.

Come to my villa. Bring an appetite.

He expects her to question it, to throw in some sarcastic remark, but the response comes almost immediately.

Be there in ten.

Something in his chest settles.

By the time she arrives, the room is set. Dim lighting, the scent of jasmine and sandalwood lingering in the air, the low hum of soft jazz playing in the background. The food is laid out on the coffee table, wine already uncorked, and the projector is ready for whatever movie she chooses.

She steps inside, fresh from her shower, her hair damp, loose waves spilling over her shoulders. She's in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, comfortable in a way that makes something tighten in his chest.

She eyes him suspiciously. "A dinner invite? What's the occasion, Mr. Oberoi?"

He shrugs, pouring a glass of wine for her. "Do I need one?"

She smirks. "Depends. If this is a business meeting in disguise, I'm leaving."

He chuckles, passing her the glass. "No business tonight. Just food and your terrible taste in movies."

She gasps dramatically. "Excuse you, my taste is impeccable."

The movie started as just background noise.

Aria had curled into the couch, pulling the blanket over her legs, completely at home. She had zero hesitation picking the film, choosing one of her comfort movies—a late-90s rom-com with over-the-top grand gestures and cheesy one-liners.

Kabir leaned back, pretending to be unaffected, but he found himself watching her more than the screen.

"You know," he mused, sipping his wine, "for someone who prides herself on strategy, I'd expect a movie with a little more depth."

She gasped, scandalized. "Excuse me? You do not insult this cinematic masterpiece."

He smirked. "This masterpiece just had the male lead chase the heroine through an airport with a boombox."

"That's romance, Kabir. Something you wouldn't understand."

"I understand logic. That was an entirely unnecessary security breach."

She groaned. "Ugh. You're one of those people. The ones who ruin fun."

"I don't ruin fun," he countered. "I just like my fun to make sense."

She narrowed her eyes, mock-serious. "You ever get caught up in something just because it feels right?"

His smirk faltered.

Her question was casual, a throwaway line, but something about it lingered in the air.

She turned back to the movie, oblivious to the shift in him.

At some point, Aria tucks her feet under her, leaning into his side.

At some point, he lets her.

At some point, she laughs—a real, unguarded, belly laugh at something stupid on the screen.

And he watches her instead of the movie.

Her phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. She glanced at the screen, groaning before answering.

"Ma."

Kabir expected her to step out of the room, maybe keep her voice low. She didn't.

She stayed right where she was, curled against his side, completely at ease.

"Ma, I swear I am eating all my meals. I'm literally still eating."

A pause.

"No, I am not skipping meals."

Another pause.

"Yes, I'm getting enough sleep. You're so dramatic."

Kabir smirked, sipping his wine. "Why don't you tell her about me?"

She slapped his arm, glaring. "Shut up."

Her mother must have heard something in the background, because Aria quickly added, "I'm just enjoying my stay at the resort."

Pause.

"No, I am not talking to a man."

Kabir raised a brow.

She glared at him again.

"Okay, fine, yes, I am talking to a man, but not like that. It's my—" She hesitated, glancing at him.

Something tightened in his chest.

"My colleague," she finally finished.

His lips quirked. "That's cold, Aria."

She ignored him. "No, Ma, I am not going to marry some businessman from your friend's friend's son's circle. Stop matchmaking."

Kabir huffed a quiet laugh, watching her fluster under her mother's interrogation.

"You literally said that last year, and I am still single," she whined into the phone. "I have work. A career. I'm busy."

Another pause.

Her voice softened.

"Yes, Ma, I know. I know you just want me to be happy."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"I am happy."

She meant it. But there was something in the way she said it—like she was trying to convince herself.

Kabir frowned slightly, filing that thought away for later.

"I love you too, Ma. I'll call you tomorrow."

She hung up, flopping dramatically back against the couch.

He raised a brow. "That was adorable."

She groaned. "Shut up."

"You're a complete brat with your mother."

"She deserves it," Aria argued. "She's been trying to get me married since I turned twenty-four."

"Smart woman."

She glared. "You're lucky I don't have a pillow to throw at you. Oh wait!" and she throws a cushion at him and he doesn't even dodge it. 

He just chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass.

He had never seen her like this before. Soft. Unguarded. Free.

He had always known she was sharp, determined, bold. But this? This playfulness, this ease, this warmth?

It was dangerous.

Because he wanted it.

He wanted all of it.

And that terrified him.

To distract himself, he scrolled through his playlist, searching for something to cut through the weight pressing on his chest.

Soft, old-school R&B spilled through the speakers.

Aria perked up immediately. "You?"

He glanced at her. "What?"

"You, Mr. Oberoi, listen to this?"

He smirked. "I contain multitudes."

She snorted. "Oh, please. Did you Google 'songs to seduce women to'?"

He chuckled, holding out a hand. "Dance with me."

She blinked. "You're serious."

"Dead serious."

A pause.

Then, to his absolute delight, she took his hand.

His fingers curled around hers, warm, firm, certain.

He pulled her up, guiding her effortlessly into a slow sway, her hands resting against his chest, his own settling on her waist.

"I already knew you were good at this," she admitted.

He smirked. "Thank you, Aria. You're pretty good as well."

She didn't pull away.

They moved together, easy, fluid, the rhythm seeping into their bones.

The movie played in the background, forgotten.

Her fingers idly played with the fabric of his shirt.

He should have pulled away.

He should have cracked a joke.

He didn't.

Instead, he kissed her forehead.

Soft. Unrushed.

She froze—just for a second.

And then, slowly, carefully, she rested her head against his chest.

Kabir let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

They didn't speak.

They just swayed, lost in something neither of them had expected.

And Kabir thought—this feels like forever.

And for the first time, he doesn't want to fight it.