Chapter 72

This was a mistake.

A massive mistake.

I should have never texted first.

I should have never agreed to meet him again.

I should have deleted his number the second he saved mine.

But now?

Now, I was standing outside the chai stall, waiting for Vihaan Malhotra like this was normal.

Like he hadn't been ruining my life since the moment I first saw him.

And the worst part?

He was late.

I checked my watch.

7:05 PM.

I should leave.

I should turn around and—

"Hey, boss man. Hope I'm not in trouble for showing up late."

…Oh, no.

I turned.

And there he was.

Vihaan Malhotra.

That same annoying grin.

That same casual confidence.

That same ability to make my brain short-circuit on sight.

He was wearing a black t-shirt, sleeves pushed up, hands shoved into his jeans like he didn't have a single worry in the world.

Like he hadn't just made me wait five whole minutes.

I crossed my arms. "You're late."

Vihaan raised an eyebrow. "You're early."

I scowled. "I'm on time."

He smirked. "Exactly. Early."

…I hated him.

(And I definitely did not feel warm at the fact that he showed up.)

We got our chai.

Sat down at the same spot as last time.

I should have kept my distance.

I should have been careful.

But somehow—it was easy.

Talking to him.

Being near him.

It wasn't supposed to be.

But Vihaan made it impossible to stay cold.

He talked about everything and nothing.

His terrible music taste.

The weirdest thing he had ever eaten.

The way his hometown felt smaller every time he visited.

And I?

I just… listened.

Because Vihaan Malhotra was the kind of person who could talk about absolutely nothing and still make it sound like the most interesting conversation in the world.

And for the first time, I wondered—what would it feel like to be that effortless?

To be Vihaan.

To be so damn bright.

And the scariest part?

I liked listening to him.

I liked sitting here.

I liked this.

And that?

That was the worst mistake of all.

At some point, he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, gaze locked onto me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.

"U'know," he murmured, "you don't talk much."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you talk too much."

Vihaan grinned.

"Tch. That's what everyone says."

I sipped my chai. "Because it's true."

Vihaan exhaled dramatically.

"So mean."

I rolled my eyes. "You'll live."

Then—before I could react—

He reached out.

Tugged at the sleeve of my shirt.

I froze.

Not because it was a big deal.

Not because it was even that much of a touch.

But because it was him.

Because he was looking at me like he was trying to figure something out.

And then—he said something that completely ruined me.

"You know, you're kinda interesting when you're not avoiding me."

I forgot how to breathe.

Because what was I supposed to say to that?

That I wasn't avoiding him? (A lie.)

That I didn't care? (A bigger lie.)

That I hadn't spent years watching him from a distance?

So instead—

I said nothing.

I just pulled my sleeve from his grip, exhaled sharply, and muttered—

"We're leaving."

Vihaan?

He just smirked.

Because somehow, I had played right into his hands.