Hi khuchupuchus💋

Stay healthy and blessed.

Here's the new chapter

Do vote and comment

Follow me on Instagram for spoilers: ID- authorrylahh

*****

Aayat's POV

The moment the words left my mouth, Mihir looked up from his plate.

Not annoyed. Not even surprised. Just calm.

Controlled in that way he always was , like every reaction passed through some internal filter before reaching his face.

"When's your birthday, Mr. Chief Minister?"

He folded a piece of roti neatly before answering.

"You don't know?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Should I?"

A faint pause.

Then, evenly:

"It's public information."

"That wasn't the question."

His gaze lifted properly to mine then.

Steady. Impossible to read sometimes.

"It's in November," he said.

I blinked once. "That's still incredibly vague."

"You asked when. I answered."

"Wow. Thank you. Extremely informative."

"I try."

I stared at him.

He continued eating calmly like he hadn't just given the most politician answer possible.

Honestly, impressive.

The rain tapped softly against the windows behind us, filling the quieter parts of the room.

"So what happens on your birthdays?" I asked after a second. "Public events? Giant flower garlands? Ten thousand people pretending to enjoy political speeches?"

One corner of his mouth lifted faintly.

"You think very highly of politicians."

"I think your face alone could intimidate at least three districts."

"That's unfortunate for the districts."

I huffed out a small laugh despite myself.

Mihir took another bite before speaking again.

"Usually there are official events. Party workers. Media. Meetings."

I made a face immediately.

"That sounds horrible."

"It's manageable."

"No, that sounds deeply depressing."

"It lasts a few hours."

"That's not helping."

A faint flicker of amusement crossed his expression.

Tiny.

But there.

I leaned back slightly in my chair, studying him.

"You've never had normal birthdays, have you?"

"Define normal."

"Cake. Friends. Annoying decorations. Someone forcing you to smile for pictures."

"I smile for pictures constantly."

"That is not the same thing and you know it."

A pause.

Then very calmly:

"I had cake once."

I blinked.

"Once?"

"I was eleven."

I just stared at him.

"Mihir."

"What?"

"That's actually sad."

"You're overreacting."

"You're emotionally concerning."

"That's subjective."

I shook my head slowly.

"No wonder you work on your birthday. You genuinely don't know how to behave like a regular person."

"I'm the Chief Minister, Aayat. 'Regular' stopped applying a while ago."

The annoying part was...

he said it without arrogance.

Just fact.

Like someone discussing weather.

I tore another piece of roti slowly.

Then something clicked in my head.

I looked up sharply.

"Wait."

Mihir glanced at me.

"You know my birthday."

A pause.

"Yes."

"You remembered it?"

Another pause.

"Yes."

I frowned immediately.

"When did I tell you?"

"You didn't."

That made me stop completely.

"Then how do you know?"

He reached for his water glass like this conversation wasn't getting increasingly strange.

"Your documents."

I stared at him blankly.

"You memorized my documents?"

"It was relevant information."

"That is the most terrifying answer you could've given me."

"I know your blood type too."

My jaw dropped slightly.

"Mihir."

"In my defense," he added calmly, "that one was medically necessary."

"That is not comforting."

A faint hint of amusement appeared in his eyes now.

Actual amusement.

Rare enough to feel illegal.

I pointed at him accusingly.

"You're one of those people."

"One of what people?"

"The people who remember everything."

"I remember useful things."

"You remembered my birthday."

His gaze held mine for half a second longer than usual.

Then he said quietly,

"I remember important things."

The room softened after that.

Not dramatically.

Just...

warmer somehow.

And suddenly I had to look down at my plate because something about the way he said it felt too sincere for such a simple conversation.

Outside, the rain continued steadily against the windows.

And across from me, Mihir calmly continued eating dinner like he hadn't just unsettled me with one quiet sentence.

I looked down at my plate for a second, still oddly aware of the warmth left behind by his last sentence.

I remember important things.

Dangerous man.

I cleared my throat lightly and forced myself back to the original topic.

"Okay," I said. "But you still didn't answer properly."

Mihir glanced up from his food. "I did."

"You gave me a month."

"That is generally how dates work."

"No, that's how calendars work. I asked for your birthday."

A faint pause.

Then he set his glass down calmly.

"Twenty-second November."

Simple.

His phone buzzed against the table again just after he sat down.

A short vibration.

Sharp against the quiet rain.

Mihir picked it up automatically, eyes already scanning the screen before he answered.

"Yes."

Calm. Always calm.

I watched him without meaning to this time.

Or maybe I did mean to. I wasn't sure anymore.

He stood from the table again, moving a little toward the window while listening quietly to whoever was speaking.

One hand slid into his pocket. The other held the phone loosely against his ear. Composed. Effortlessly composed.

The kind of control that didn't feel practiced anymore, it felt built into him.

His sleeves were still rolled to his forearms from cooking earlier, watch slightly loosened now, hair faintly disheveled in a way that probably would've looked chaotic on anyone else.

On him, it just looked unfairly good.

I looked down at my plate for half a second before my attention drifted back toward him again anyway.

Annoying.

He spoke quietly into the phone.

"No, move the briefing to tomorrow."

A pause.

"Because I said so."

Another pause.

Then, somehow softer without losing authority:

"Handle it carefully."

I watched the way his expression barely shifted while he listened.

No exaggerated reactions. No unnecessary words.

Just steady focus.

But after the last few weeks...

I was starting to notice the smaller things.

The tiny tension near his jaw when he was tired.

The way he rubbed the side of his thumb against his fingers when he was thinking too much.

The slight drop in his shoulders whenever he finally came home after an exhausting day.

Things most people probably missed completely.

Things that made him feel strangely human beneath all the control.

Mihir turned slightly toward the window while listening again.

Rainlight caught against the side of his face.

And suddenly I understood why people listened to him when he spoke.

Not because he demanded attention.

Because he carried certainty like it belonged to him naturally.

Even silence felt deliberate around him.

My eyes dropped briefly to the plate in front of me before drifting back again almost immediately.

He was still speaking quietly.

"No. Don't involve the media yet."

A pause.

"And tell security I'll review it personally tomorrow morning."

The call ended a few seconds later.

Mihir lowered the phone slowly, gaze lingering on the dark screen for half a second before setting it back down on the table.

Then he looked up.

Straight at me.

I realized too late that I'd been staring openly this time.

His brows lifted slightly.

Not mocking.

Just aware.

"You've been very quiet," he observed calmly.

I reached for my glass immediately to buy myself two seconds of composure.

"You were working."

"Hm."

His eyes stayed on me for one second longer than necessary.

And for some reason that felt significantly more dangerous than the phone calls had.

He unfolded his napkin neatly.

Then, after a brief pause...

"How is Jaipur?"

I frowned.

"What?"

"The hotel."

It took me a second to catch up.

"Oh."

Mihir picked up his glass.

"The renovation was supposed to begin this week."

I stared at him.

"You remember that?"

His expression didn't change.

"You mentioned it."

"Three weeks ago."

Another pause.

"Yes."

I shook my head.

Of course.

Of course he remembered.

"It's going fine," I said. "The contractor is giving me a headache, but apparently that's part of the experience."

"A delayed permit issue?"

I blinked.

"How do you know that?"

"You complained about it."

"I complained once."

"You complained for fifteen minutes."

I pointed a finger at him.

"See? This is exactly what I'm talking about."

"What?"

"You remember everything."

"I remember useful information."

"How is my contractor useful information to you?"

Mihir considered that for a second.

Then, completely serious:

"It was important to you."

The answer landed much harder than it should have.

I looked away first.

Annoying. Very annoying.

He took another sip of water.

"Did it get resolved?"

I found myself answering before I even thought about it.

"Mostly. We're behind schedule, but not enough to panic yet."

"Hm."

"I hate that sound."

"What sound?"

"That sound."

"What does it mean?"

"It means you're evaluating my life choices."

A faint hint of amusement appeared in his eyes.

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

"You seem to have handled it."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Was that a compliment?"

"It was an observation."

"That's politician language for compliment."

"I disagree."

I laughed despite myself.

And somehow, before I realized it, we were talking about supplier issues, staffing problems, renovation budgets, and guests who thought hotel managers personally controlled the weather.

Mihir listened to all of it.

Not politely.

Not the way people listened while waiting for their turn to speak.

Actually listened.

Asked questions.

Remembered details.

Followed up on things I'd mentioned weeks ago.

And somewhere in the middle of explaining a disaster involving imported furniture and customs clearance, I realized something unsettling.

The Chief Minister had come home after a fourteen-hour day.

Yet somehow he was still making time to ask about mine

I was explaining a particularly frustrating meeting with one of my hotel managers when I sighed dramatically.

"Honestly, at this point I'm considering running the hotel myself."

Mihir looked up from his glass.

"You already do."

"Fine. Then I'll personally stand at reception."

"That sounds inefficient."

"I'll welcome guests."

"You'll scare guests."

I narrowed my eyes immediately.

"Mr. Chief Minister, please be respectful."

"I am being respectful."

"No, you're attacking a hardworking entrepreneur."

"A hardworking entrepreneur who apparently solves problems through intimidation."

I pointed at him.

"That's a serious accusation."

"It's an observation."

I thought for a second before declaring proudly,

"When my business empire expands globally, people will study my methods."

A pause.

Then Mihir said,

"As a warning?"

I stared at him.

The audacity.

The absolute audacity.

For half a second there was silence.

Then...

Mihir laughed.

Actually laughed.

Not the faint smile.

Not the small amused look he occasionally allowed himself.

A real laugh.

Warm and unguarded.

"Aayat," he said, shaking his head slightly, "if there were an award for unfunny jokes, you would've topped it."

My mouth fell open.

"What?"

He was still laughing.

Still laughing.

I made the most offended face I could manage.

"Mr. Chief Minister, stop complaining, okay?"

That only made things worse.

His shoulders actually moved with another laugh.

I pointed at myself dramatically.

"I am one of the top businesswomen in India."

"Yes."

The answer came immediately.

No teasing. No hesitation. Just certainty.

I blinked.

"Oh."

Mihir leaned back slightly.

"That's not the part I find concerning."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Then what part do you find concerning?"

"The fact that one of the top businesswomen in India believes threatening suppliers is a legitimate management strategy."

"I was not threatening them."

"You called fourteen times."

"They deserved all fourteen calls."

That did it.

Mihir looked completely unrepentant.

And then I saw it.

A dimple.

On his left cheek.

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Hold on.

What?

The laugh was still there, softer now, but the smile remained.

And so did the dimple.

How had I never noticed that before?

The man smiled so rarely that apparently entire facial features appeared without public knowledge.

That seemed unfair.

Deeply unfair.

Because somehow the dimple made him look younger.

Less like the Chief Minister who intimidated senior officials without trying.

More like... just Mihir.

My brain abruptly stopped being useful.

Across from me, Mihir's laughter finally faded.

His gaze met mine.

"You've gone quiet again."

I looked away immediately.

"No reason."

"Hm."

The dimple appeared again.

Terrible human

"Come on."

Mihir glanced up.

"Where are we going?"

"To sleep."

"That's a remarkably authoritative instruction."

"I learned from watching politicians.", I said

"I see."

I ignored him and headed toward the bedroom.

A moment later, I heard his footsteps behind me.

The room was dim except for the bedside lamp.

Rain continued softly outside the windows.

I pulled back the blanket and immediately claimed my side of the bed.

A strategic decision.

Mihir looked at me.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You looked like you were preparing for battle."

"I like my side."

"I'm not disputing ownership."

"Good."

Mihir set his phone on the nightstand and loosened his watch.

The familiar routine.

Simple. Comfortable. Normal.

Which was still strange to think about sometimes.

I settled deeper into the pillows.

A few moments later, the lamp clicked off.

The room fell into darkness.

Only the faint silver glow from the rain-covered windows remained.

The quiet wasn't awkward. It never really was anymore.

Rain tapped steadily against the windows.

The mattress shifted slightly as Mihir settled beside me, and then everything became still again.

I closed my eyes. Opened them. Closed them again.

And immediately thought of the dimple.

For God's sake.

I stared at the ceiling.

A dimple.

On Mihir.

How had that happened?

More importantly...

how had nobody warned me?

The man spent ninety percent of his life looking like he was about to approve a state budget.

And somehow hidden underneath all that terrifying competence was a dimple.

It felt deceptive.

Frankly.

Possibly unethical.

I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket up slightly.

This was ridiculous.

I was a grown woman.

A successful businesswoman.

I managed hotels, investors, expansion projects, and negotiations worth crores.

Yet somehow my brain had decided to dedicate its resources to...

Dimple.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

No.

Enough.

Sleep.

Tomorrow I had meetings.

Important meetings.

Professional meetings.

Meetings that absolutely did not involve dimples.

A few seconds passed. Then a thought appeared.

It had only been on the left cheek.

I opened my eyes again.

This was getting embarrassing.

Beside me, Mihir was quiet.

Probably asleep already. Or pretending to be. With him, either was possible.

I shifted slightly.

The movement must have caught his attention.

Because after a moment, his voice came quietly through the darkness.

"Can't sleep?"

I froze.

"No."

A pause.

Then...

"You've been turning over every three minutes."

I frowned.

"Have not."

"You have."

"Why are you awake?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Fair.

Unfortunately.

I stared into the darkness.

Then sighed dramatically.

"I discovered something disturbing tonight."

Silence.

Then...

"Disturbing?"

"Very."

Mihir sounded genuinely concerned now.

"What happened?"

I rolled onto my back.

"You have a dimple."

The silence that followed was immediate.

And complete.

For two whole seconds neither of us said anything.

Then...

"Aayat."

His voice was flatter than usual.

Which meant he was trying not to laugh.

"Yes?"

"Go to sleep."

I grinned into the darkness.

"No, but seriously."

"Aayat."

"I didn't know."

"You seem deeply affected by this discovery."

"I am."

A long-suffering sigh came from beside me.

And then, despite the darkness, I could practically hear the amusement in his voice.

"Good night."

I smiled.

"Good night, Mr. Chief Minister."

This time neither of us spoke again. The rain continued outside. The room stayed warm and quiet.

And eventually, somewhere between thoughts of tomorrow's meetings and one extremely inconvenient dimple, sleep finally won.

By nine in the morning, I was already in my office.

Coffee in hand.

Laptop open.

Trying very hard to focus on work instead of certain inconvenient discoveries from the previous night.

The strategy was going reasonably well.

Until I walked into my cabin and found Rhea already sitting there.

My best friend had somehow made herself comfortable in my chair like she owned the company.

Typical.

"Good morning to you too," I said dryly.

Rhea grinned.

"Look."

Before I could even sit down, she shoved her phone toward me.

A series of pictures appeared on the screen.

New designs on the body I sent. Omkar.

The mannequin (Omkar) was dressed in a stunning ivory and gold outfit with intricate hand embroidery.

I scrolled through a few more pictures.

The detailing was impressive.

"Okay," I admitted. "This is actually beautiful."

"Actually?"

"It hurts me to compliment you."

"Liar."

"It does."

Rhea snatched the phone back dramatically.

At that exact moment, her little son reached for the device and burst into giggles.

The sound immediately softened my expression.

"There he is."

I picked him up from her lap.

The baby rewarded me with another delighted laugh.

And then I noticed it.

Dimples. Both cheeks.

Deep little dimples that appeared every time he smiled.

I stared.

The baby giggled again. Dimples.

Immediately, against my will, my brain supplied another image.

A certain Chief Minister laughing at dinner. A certain left cheek. A certain dimple.

Without thinking, I muttered,

"He has dimples too."

Rhea looked up from her phone.

"Who?"

The question hit me half a second too late.

I froze.

"...Mihir."

Rhea slowly lowered her phone.

The grin that spread across her face was immediate.

And dangerous.

"No."

I pointed at her immediately.

"No."

"Oh my God."

"No."

"You're noticing dimples now?"

"I just made an observation."

"Sure."

"It was a scientific observation."

Rhea laughed.

I already regretted opening my mouth.

She leaned back in her chair.

"So."

"No."

"So."

"Rhea."

"Falling in love?"

I nearly choked on my coffee.

"What?"

Rhea looked entirely too pleased with herself.

I pointed aggressively.

"Shut up."

"That's not a no."

"Rhea."

"I'm listening."

"I am not falling in love."

"Mhm."

"I am not."

"Mhm."

I wanted to throw something at her.

Instead, I folded my arms.

"It's a contract marriage, okay?"

Rhea's smile didn't move.

"Okay."

"And we're definitely not doing any of that."

"Of course."

"Seven months."

"Mm."

"Three and a half have already passed."

For the first time, Rhea's teasing expression softened slightly.

"Have they?"

I paused.

Because somehow hearing it out loud felt different.

Three and a half months.

Halfway.

Almost.

The realization settled somewhere uncomfortable in my chest.

Rhea noticed immediately.

Of course she did.

She'd known me too long not to.

For a second neither of us spoke.

Then she said quietly,

"You're counting."

I looked away.

"No, I'm not."

"You just calculated it down to the half month."

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

The traitor had a point.

Rhea's smile returned. Smaller this time. Gentler.

"Oh, Aayat."

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

"I was."

"Don't."

Rhea laughed.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, completely unhelpfully, a certain left-cheek dimple decided to make another appearance.

This was becoming a serious problem. Rhea stared at me for exactly three seconds.

Then she pointed dramatically.

"You're in love."

I nearly threw a file at her.

"Shut up, Rhea."

"I'm serious."

"Shut up."

"You just compared my baby's dimples to your husband's."

"Formerly compared."

"That's not better."

I dropped into my chair.

"I have work to do."

"No, you have denial to do."

"Rhea."

She looked entirely too pleased with herself.

I sighed.

"Look, it's not love."

"Okay."

"It isn't."

"Okay."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Stop saying okay like that."

Rhea grinned.

I ignored her.

"Think about it logically."

"Whenever someone starts a sentence like that, they're about to say something deeply illogical."

I chose to ignore that too.

"I see him all the time."

Rhea folded her arms.

"Mm."

"At home."

"Mm."

"Sometimes at the office."

"Mm."

"So obviously I might develop some attraction."

Her eyebrows lifted.

Finally.

A reasonable person.

"See?"

"Continue."

I waved my hand confidently.

"It's normal."

"Go on."

"And honestly, it might not even be attraction toward him."

Rhea blinked.

"What?"

I sat back.

Feeling very intelligent.

"It could be attraction toward his food."

Silence. Complete silence.

Rhea just stared at me.

I stared back.

Confidently.

Then she slowly asked,

"...Food?"

"Yes."

"Food."

"Exactly."

"Aayat."

"What?"

"You need therapy."

I gasped.

"I cook too."

"You nearly burned pasta last month."

"That happened once."

"You called me crying because rice was sticking to the pan."

"That pan was defective."

Rhea put her face in her hands.

I was being attacked in my own office.

Unbelievable.

"You are not attracted to food."

"I could be."

"No."

"His butter paneer masala is excellent."

Rhea looked at me.

"Aayat."

"His veg biryani is also excellent."

"Aayat."

"And don't get me started on those parathas."

"AAYAT."she yelled

I stopped.

Rhea pointed at me.

"You know what normal people say when they're attracted to someone?"

I folded my arms.

"What?"

"'He's kind.'"

I rolled my eyes.

"He is."

"'He's thoughtful.'"

"He is."

"'He's handsome.'"

I opened my mouth.

Paused.

Closed it.

Rhea's eyes widened immediately.

"Oh my God."

"No."

"You hesitated."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

I looked away.

Traitorous face.

Rhea was now grinning like she'd won a court case.

"You are doomed."

"I'm not doomed."

"You are."

"It's not love."

"Sure."

"It isn't."

"Then why do you know which cheek has the dimple?"

My jaw dropped. I pointed at her. That was irrelevant.

Entirely irrelevant.

And unfortunately, judging by Rhea's expression, my silence had just answered the question for her.

"Oh, Aayat."

"Stop."

"You're counting months."

"Stop."

"You're noticing dimples."

"Rhea."

"You're defending him."

"I'm not."

"And now you're claiming you're attracted to his cooking."

I buried my face in my hands.

Across the desk, Rhea started laughing so hard that even her baby joined in.

Worst friend. Absolutely the worst friend.

Fortunately for me, Rhea eventually left.

Unfortunately for me, she left while still laughing.

And every time I remembered why, I became annoyed all over again.

By eleven o'clock, I was seated in the main conference room.

The investor meeting had officially begun.

Which was exactly what I needed.

Work. Numbers. Contracts. Actual problems.

Things that made sense.

The presentation screen displayed projected revenue figures for the next three years while executives and investors reviewed the reports in front of them.

I stood at the head of the table.

Confident. Focused. Completely in my element.

"This expansion isn't simply about increasing room inventory," I explained. "It's about positioning the brand in premium markets while maintaining operational consistency across properties."

The lead investor nodded.

"What about occupancy projections?"

I clicked to the next slide.

"We've modeled three scenarios."

For the next hour, the discussion moved smoothly.

Questions. Forecasts. Market strategy.

Investment timelines.

The familiar rhythm settled around me.

And as always, work pushed everything else into the background.

Just business.

Exactly how I liked it.

By the time the meeting ended, several investors were already discussing the next phase of negotiations.

A good sign. A very good sign.

I gathered my documents while a few senior executives remained behind.

One of the investors approached me before leaving.

"Mrs. Aayat."

"Yes?"

"I've attended a lot of these presentations."

I smiled politely.

He continued.

"You know your business exceptionally well."

The compliment was straightforward.

Professional. Earned.

"Thank you."

He shook my hand.

"We're looking forward to working with you."

As he walked away, I finally allowed myself a small breath of relief.

Successful meeting. Successful quarter. Successful expansion plan.

Not bad for a day's work.

——-

I pushed open the door to my cabin.

Advit was sitting in one of the chairs across from my desk.

Still. Silent.

His head slightly lowered.

And his hands...

There was blood on them. Not enough to be dramatic.

But enough to make my heart lurch.

"Advit?"

The door shut behind me.

He didn't look up.

I crossed the room immediately.

"Advit."

Nothing.

A knot formed in my stomach.

I had known him long enough to understand that silence wasn't unusual.

Advit rarely spoke.

Even at family gatherings, most conversations happened around him rather than with him.

The only person who could reliably get more than a few words out of him was Naina.

Even Mihir barely managed.

But this was different.

This wasn't quiet. This was withdrawal.

Something had happened.

I crouched slightly in front of him.

"What happened?"

His gaze remained fixed somewhere on the floor.

No answer.

I looked more carefully. There were no obvious injuries on him. No signs that he was hurt. Which somehow made me more worried.

"Advit."

My voice softened.

"Are you injured?"

A slow shake of his head. The first response. Relief flickered briefly.

Then disappeared.

"Okay."

I glanced toward the tissue box on my desk and pulled it closer.

"Whose blood is it?"

His jaw tightened.

For the first time, he looked away. And that was answer enough.

Not his.

Someone else's.

A chill ran through me.

"Is Naina okay?"

His head snapped up immediately.

The reaction was instant. Protective. Alarmed.

The strongest emotion I'd ever seen on his face.

Another quick nod.

Yes.

Naina was okay.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Thank God.

"Okay," I said quietly. "She's okay."

Advit's shoulders loosened slightly.

Only slightly.

I sat down in the chair opposite him.

Not pushing. Not rushing. Just waiting.

Outside the glass walls of my cabin, employees continued moving through the office as if nothing had happened.

Inside, the silence felt heavy.

A full minute passed.

Then another.

Finally, Advit spoke.

His voice was rough from disuse.

Low.

Barely above a whisper.

"Bhabhi."

I straightened immediately.

It was the first time I'd heard him initiate a conversation in months.

His hands clenched. Then unclenched.

And when he finally looked at me, there was something in his expression I'd never seen before.

"What happened?"

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Advit's fingers flexed once.

Slowly.

Like he was testing whether his hands still belonged to him.

Then, in a voice so flat it almost didn't sound real...

"I killed him."

For a moment, I didn't process it.

Words didn't connect. They just hung in the air.

"What?" I said automatically.

Advit finally looked up at me.

His eyes were calm in a way that didn't match anything about this conversation.

"I killed him."

My breath caught.

The room tilted slightly, like my mind had misstepped.

I straightened a little.

"Who—"

I stopped.

"Who?"

Advit's body suddenly shifted. His head dipped forward.

Too fast. Too heavy.

"Advit?" I stepped closer immediately. "Hey—"

But before I could reach him, he slumped completely. Unconscious.

"Shit."

I caught his shoulder just in time, carefully lowering him so he didn't fall off the chair.

His face was pale now. Completely drained, like whatever had been holding him upright had finally snapped.

"Come on... don't do this," I muttered under my breath.

No response.

I pressed two fingers to his wrist. Pulse. There. Steady, but weak.

My hands were already moving before my mind fully caught up.

Phone out.

Dialing Mihir.

It rang once. Twice. Then...

"Aayat?"

Immediate. Focused.

"What happened," he said.

"He's here," I said quickly. "Advit. He came to my office and...he fainted."

A pause. Short. Controlled.

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes. Pulse is there too, but he's unconscious."

"I'm coming," Mihir said instantly. "Don't move him. Stay where you are."

"Mihir...he was trying to say something, I think—"

"I said I'm coming."

The call ended.

I stood there for half a second, staring at the phone.

Then I looked back at Advit.

Silent. Still.

Whatever he had come here to say...

he hadn't said it.

And somehow that felt worse.

Like the answer had been sitting right at the edge of his words and then just... disappeared.

I pulled a chair closer and sat beside him, forcing my breathing to slow.

Minutes passed like that.

Too slow. Too loud.

Then footsteps in the corridor.

Firm. Controlled.

The door opened without knocking.

Mihir stepped in.

One look at the scene and his expression changed—not panic, not shock, just immediate calculation.

He walked straight to Advit.

Checked him quickly.

Pulse. Breathing. Eyes.

"He's stable," Mihir said.

I nodded quickly.

"He was about to say something and then just collapsed."

Mihir's gaze stayed on Advit for a moment longer than usual.

Then he straightened slightly.

"Was anyone else here?"

"No. Just him."

A pause.

"Did he say anything before he lost consciousness?" Mihir asked.

I hesitated.

"He started to," I admitted. "But he stopped mid-sentence. Like... he couldn't finish it."

Mihir didn't respond immediately.

That silence felt heavier than anything else.

Finally, he said quietly,

"Then we wait."

I frowned.

"That's it?"

His eyes met mine.

Not cold.

Not soft either.

Just steady.

"If it mattered enough for him to come here like this," Mihir said, "we'll hear it when he wakes up."

Another pause.

Then, lower:

"And we'll deal with it properly."

"I KILLED HIM" we heard Advit  saying.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

1. What do you think Advit was about to reveal before he fainted?

2. How long until Aayat admits she's thinking about the dimple again?

3. If you were in Aayat's place, what would distract you more: his personality, his food, or the dimple?

4. Who's more likely to confess first: Aayat by accident or Mihir on purpose?

AND YES TELL ME HOW WAS THE CHAPTER??????

To be continued

Don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT.