He scoffed, mock-offended. “I was the best in my batch.”
“Of course you were.”
“I’m serious,” he insisted, though his grin betrayed him. “Top in endurance, drills, even survival training.”
I tilted my head. “Survival training?”
His eyes lit up instantly, like a boy eager to brag. “Three days. No proper food, barely any water, and we had to navigate back using only a map and instincts.” He leaned back, shaking his head. “One guy tried to eat something he thought was edible.”
“And?”
“He spent the next nine hours clutching his stomach and visiting… safe zones. By the end, he’d mapped every bush, tree, and suspicious-looking rock within five miles. Honestly, if survival training was about finding toilets, he’d have been top of the class.”
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. “That’s terrible.”
“It was hilarious,” he corrected.
He watched me for a moment, and something shifted. I straightened suddenly, smoothing my hair, self-conscious under his gaze.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, clearing my throat.
“You don’t laugh like this,” he said quietly.
My smile faltered. “Maybe I never had a reason to.”
His jaw tightened, as if he wanted to say more but stopped himself. Then, softly: “You look cute when you smile.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. I busied myself with the wine glass, though I hadn’t taken a sip, just nibbled at a few cookies. The garden was beautiful, but the decorations made it feel expensive, almost too polished.
I looked back at Saurav. He had just opened another bottle, pouring himself a glass. Silence settled between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled low and heavy.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “It’s getting cold.”
“Maybe we should find shelter,” he muttered, already looking around for shelter. “Otherwise you’ll fall sick.”
“Yes, we should…”
He glanced upward. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”
Almost on cue, raindrops began to fall slowly at first, and then heavier, until it became a steady downpour.
“Great,” I said, laughing nervously. “Now what? Where do we go?”
He pointed toward a small cottage at the edge of the garden. “There.”
We ran.
I clung to his arm as the rain drenched us, soaking through everything. By the time we reached the cottage, we were breathless, dripping, and laughing like fools.
He pushed the door open, and we stepped inside. It was small, quiet, and almost picturesque. The rain hammered the roof, filling the silence. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Water dripped from my hair, my clothes, his shoulders.
I turned toward him. And that’s when that shift happened again.
His gaze dropped, tracing the way the silk of my dress clung to every curve, betraying the heat blooming beneath the fabric. I was standing too close. I knew it, but the magnetic pull was impossible to resist. The air between us thickened, heavy and stifling, vibrating with a sudden, electric charge. My breath hitched in my throat, a ragged sound in the quiet room.
“Saurav…” I whispered. I didn’t know what I was asking for, only that the silence was becoming unbearable.