7 hours ago
The hallway was silent and dim, broken only by the soft whisper of my dupatta brushing against the delicate fabric of my kameez with each measured step.
I caught faint sounds drifting in—the gentle clink of plates, the soft creak of the balcony door as it swung shut. Ranjeet was still there, somewhere between the dining table and the living room, moving quietly, methodically. Probably tidying up things I’d overlooked, probably with that quiet perfection he didn’t even realize he carried.
I lingered for a heartbeat at the edge of the hallway, the moment stretching longer than it should have.
Then, with a quiet breath and my heart racing, I stepped into the room.He was placing paper cups on the table when he turned—and saw me.
His hands paused mid-air, the paper cup forgotten between his fingers. For a moment, he was utterly still—just staring, as if the sight of me had stolen his breath and words both.
It was as if he was momentarily lost, caught in a daze. His eyes flickered—first to my face, lingering at the curve of my lips, then drifting down to the soft shine of the silver embroidery along the neckline of my dress. A strange storm of emotions erupted inside me—nervousness prickling under my skin, excitement fluttering like trapped butterflies in my chest, and something far deeper, far wilder, thrumming through my veins.
It was a dangerous thrill, a magnetic pull that both scared and intoxicated me. I felt exposed under his gaze, yet beautiful in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time—seen, admired, desired. Every inch of me seemed alive, aching to be closer, aching to be touched, even as a soft voice inside me whispered warnings I chose to ignore. My heart pounded in my ears, my skin tingled under the heat of his gaze, and a breathless warmth spread through me, leaving me both shy and secretly exhilarated.
His kept staring at my bust—bold, unhurried, drinking in the curve of my bosom with a kind of reverence that made my breath hitch. A wild shyness bloomed inside me, mixed with a sweet, thrilling ache I couldn’t name. My hands itched to cover myself, yet I didn’t move. Instead, a secret part of me basked in the way he looked at me—as if I were something rare, something precious.
The weight of his eyes made my skin heat up deliciously, making me feel both delicate and powerful all at once. The fabric shimmered faintly with each rise and fall of my chest, and I felt the weight of his attention like a touch I hadn’t expected but couldn’t ignore. From there, they traveled down to my wrists, where my bangles glinted softly, catching the warm light as I shifted. Then, slowly, deliberately, his gaze returned to my face—more tender this time, more breathless—like he was trying to memorize me, trying to hold the image of me in that moment like a secret he didn’t want to share with the world.
“Ranjeet?” I asked gently, suddenly self-conscious.
His voice came a beat late. “Tum…”
He cleared his throat, stepped closer.
“Tum… bahut hi beautiful lag rahi ho, Nabila,” he said quietly. “Matlab… itni sundar lag rahi ho ke main… kuch der ke liye bhool gaya ke main saans le raha hoon ya nahi.”
I felt it instantly.
That rush of warmth flooding my cheeks. The heat blooming across my skin.
I looked away, my heart pounding, suddenly hyper-aware of every single thing about myself—the snugness of the neckline hugging the curves of my body, the soft, delicate clinking of my bangles with even the tiniest shift of my wrist, the warmth rising over my skin like a secret only he could see. I realized with a start that I had chosen this very shade of lipstick—the deep, blushing rose—without even thinking, as if my soul had known it would be him I wanted to impress tonight. The air around me felt heavier, charged, as if even the smallest movements carried meanings I wasn’t ready to speak aloud.
“Tumhara blue color waale kapdon ka selection… khatarnaak hota ja raha hai,” he added with a crooked smile.
I rolled my eyes, laughing softly. “Shayad tumhara asar hai.”
He took another step closer. His voice dropped, softer now.
“Jo bhi ho, Nabila… agar yeh tum party ke liye pehni ho, toh sare mehmaan birthday boy ko bhool kar tumhe hi taadne wale hai.. Main toh soch raha hoon, tumhe dekh ke party ka theme hi 'Nabila Appreciation Party' rakh dete hai.”
I turned to look at him, caught between smiling and blushing and maybe saying something I shouldn’t.
Instead, I said the safest thing I could.
“Cake fridge mein rakha hai. Candles mai laati hun.”
He smiled, but didn’t move. “Theek hai.”
But I felt it the moment I turned away — his gaze clinging to me like a warm, invisible thread, tugging gently at my back. It was heavy, electric, making my skin prickle with awareness. Even without seeing, I could feel his eyes drinking me in, lingering with a hunger and admiration that left my body humming and my heart skipping uneven beats.
Still holding the unspoken between us.
I turned away quickly after that compliment, my heart beating fast, the silver chain around my neck feeling warm against my skin. My bangles made a soft sound as I opened the fridge and pulled out the cake box—just trying to keep my hands busy, pretending I wasn’t melting under his stare.
But I could feel it — his eyes still on me. Not just looking — admiring. Eating me up with that slow, lazy smile he had. It made my cheeks burn and my stomach flip, but it also made me want to sway my hips just a little more than necessary.
“You said candles, right?” he called out, his voice playful and teasing now, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
I turned, and sure enough — he wasn’t even pretending to look away.
He just grinned, boyish and a little wicked, like he’d been caught but didn’t mind one bit.
His presence had a way of filling a room—not loud or demanding, but steady, like breath in a space that had forgotten how to breathe.
“Haan,” I said, teasing a little. “Drawer mein hain… woh shelf ke neeche waala. Dhoondh paaoge ya main madad karun?”
He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Challenge mat do, Nabila. Main expert hoon khojne mein.”
I laughed under my breath as he bent slightly, pretending to search like it was a treasure hunt.
He straightened a little, giving me a mischievous grin. “Drawer ya full treasure hunt organize karwaya hai tumne?” he teased, pretending to peer around dramatically as if expecting clues on the walls.
I bit my lip to stop my laugh. “Drawer simple hai, Mr. Detective, maze mat lo,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled, tapping the drawer lightly as if solving a great mystery. “Mission accomplished,” he said, pulling out the candles with a little victorious smirk. teased, glancing up at me.
“Drawer, bilkul simple,” I said, trying not to smile too wide.
He found the candles easily and placed them next to the cake with a dramatic little bow, as if he’d accomplished some heroic mission.
“Chocolate truffle?” he asked, peeking into the box with a grin.
“Adnan ka favorite. Aur mera bhi,” I said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Great..aapka taste zabardast hai jee,” he said, winking. “Mujhe bhi pasand hai... ab toh party aur special ho gayi.”
I shook my head at his shameless flirting but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
For a second, we just stood there — the closeness between us humming in the air, sweet and a little dangerous.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Waise... main toh keh raha hoon, tum aur yeh cake — dono party ke asli highlight ho.”
I gave him a mock glare, picking up the candles to hide my blush. “Bohot flirt karte ho aajkal, Mr. Ranjeet.”
He laughed softly. “Bas sach bol raha hoon, Ms. Birthday Queen.”
Before I could say anything smart back, we both heard footsteps approaching.
“Mummaaa!” Adnan called out excitedly, running into the kitchen in his socks, nearly sliding into me.
I quickly bent down, balancing the cake box in one hand as I caught him in a quick hug with the other.
Ranjeet chuckled. “Arre arre... party shuru hone se pehle hi goal kar diya!”
I laughed, ruffling Adnan’s hair. “Bas thoda excited hai humara birthday boy.”
Adnan grinned up at me, then looked curiously at Ranjeet.
“Cake?” he asked, eyes sparkling.
“Bas thodi der aur, champ,” Ranjeet said, kneeling down to his level. He ruffled Adnan’s hair with a playful grin. “ Captain! Guests aate hi honge, tayyar ho jao!”
Adnan puffed up his chest proudly, nodding like he had been given a top-secret mission.
Adnan giggled, nodding solemnly like it was a big responsibility.
I shook my head with a smile, feeling a warm, fuzzy happiness at the sight of the two of them—so easy, so natural.
And somewhere deep inside, a tiny, dangerous thought flickered:
This... this felt a little too perfect. Like the kind of moment you wish you could freeze and tuck away safely, knowing life rarely lets you hold onto something this warm, this easy, this full of unspoken dreams. A flutter of fear mixed with the sweetness in my chest — fear that maybe things this beautiful were never meant to last.
I caught faint sounds drifting in—the gentle clink of plates, the soft creak of the balcony door as it swung shut. Ranjeet was still there, somewhere between the dining table and the living room, moving quietly, methodically. Probably tidying up things I’d overlooked, probably with that quiet perfection he didn’t even realize he carried.
I lingered for a heartbeat at the edge of the hallway, the moment stretching longer than it should have.
Then, with a quiet breath and my heart racing, I stepped into the room.He was placing paper cups on the table when he turned—and saw me.
His hands paused mid-air, the paper cup forgotten between his fingers. For a moment, he was utterly still—just staring, as if the sight of me had stolen his breath and words both.
It was as if he was momentarily lost, caught in a daze. His eyes flickered—first to my face, lingering at the curve of my lips, then drifting down to the soft shine of the silver embroidery along the neckline of my dress. A strange storm of emotions erupted inside me—nervousness prickling under my skin, excitement fluttering like trapped butterflies in my chest, and something far deeper, far wilder, thrumming through my veins.
It was a dangerous thrill, a magnetic pull that both scared and intoxicated me. I felt exposed under his gaze, yet beautiful in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time—seen, admired, desired. Every inch of me seemed alive, aching to be closer, aching to be touched, even as a soft voice inside me whispered warnings I chose to ignore. My heart pounded in my ears, my skin tingled under the heat of his gaze, and a breathless warmth spread through me, leaving me both shy and secretly exhilarated.
His kept staring at my bust—bold, unhurried, drinking in the curve of my bosom with a kind of reverence that made my breath hitch. A wild shyness bloomed inside me, mixed with a sweet, thrilling ache I couldn’t name. My hands itched to cover myself, yet I didn’t move. Instead, a secret part of me basked in the way he looked at me—as if I were something rare, something precious.
The weight of his eyes made my skin heat up deliciously, making me feel both delicate and powerful all at once. The fabric shimmered faintly with each rise and fall of my chest, and I felt the weight of his attention like a touch I hadn’t expected but couldn’t ignore. From there, they traveled down to my wrists, where my bangles glinted softly, catching the warm light as I shifted. Then, slowly, deliberately, his gaze returned to my face—more tender this time, more breathless—like he was trying to memorize me, trying to hold the image of me in that moment like a secret he didn’t want to share with the world.
“Ranjeet?” I asked gently, suddenly self-conscious.
His voice came a beat late. “Tum…”
He cleared his throat, stepped closer.
“Tum… bahut hi beautiful lag rahi ho, Nabila,” he said quietly. “Matlab… itni sundar lag rahi ho ke main… kuch der ke liye bhool gaya ke main saans le raha hoon ya nahi.”
I felt it instantly.
That rush of warmth flooding my cheeks. The heat blooming across my skin.
I looked away, my heart pounding, suddenly hyper-aware of every single thing about myself—the snugness of the neckline hugging the curves of my body, the soft, delicate clinking of my bangles with even the tiniest shift of my wrist, the warmth rising over my skin like a secret only he could see. I realized with a start that I had chosen this very shade of lipstick—the deep, blushing rose—without even thinking, as if my soul had known it would be him I wanted to impress tonight. The air around me felt heavier, charged, as if even the smallest movements carried meanings I wasn’t ready to speak aloud.
“Tumhara blue color waale kapdon ka selection… khatarnaak hota ja raha hai,” he added with a crooked smile.
I rolled my eyes, laughing softly. “Shayad tumhara asar hai.”
He took another step closer. His voice dropped, softer now.
“Jo bhi ho, Nabila… agar yeh tum party ke liye pehni ho, toh sare mehmaan birthday boy ko bhool kar tumhe hi taadne wale hai.. Main toh soch raha hoon, tumhe dekh ke party ka theme hi 'Nabila Appreciation Party' rakh dete hai.”
I turned to look at him, caught between smiling and blushing and maybe saying something I shouldn’t.
Instead, I said the safest thing I could.
“Cake fridge mein rakha hai. Candles mai laati hun.”
He smiled, but didn’t move. “Theek hai.”
But I felt it the moment I turned away — his gaze clinging to me like a warm, invisible thread, tugging gently at my back. It was heavy, electric, making my skin prickle with awareness. Even without seeing, I could feel his eyes drinking me in, lingering with a hunger and admiration that left my body humming and my heart skipping uneven beats.
Still holding the unspoken between us.
I turned away quickly after that compliment, my heart beating fast, the silver chain around my neck feeling warm against my skin. My bangles made a soft sound as I opened the fridge and pulled out the cake box—just trying to keep my hands busy, pretending I wasn’t melting under his stare.
But I could feel it — his eyes still on me. Not just looking — admiring. Eating me up with that slow, lazy smile he had. It made my cheeks burn and my stomach flip, but it also made me want to sway my hips just a little more than necessary.
“You said candles, right?” he called out, his voice playful and teasing now, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
I turned, and sure enough — he wasn’t even pretending to look away.
He just grinned, boyish and a little wicked, like he’d been caught but didn’t mind one bit.
His presence had a way of filling a room—not loud or demanding, but steady, like breath in a space that had forgotten how to breathe.
“Haan,” I said, teasing a little. “Drawer mein hain… woh shelf ke neeche waala. Dhoondh paaoge ya main madad karun?”
He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Challenge mat do, Nabila. Main expert hoon khojne mein.”
I laughed under my breath as he bent slightly, pretending to search like it was a treasure hunt.
He straightened a little, giving me a mischievous grin. “Drawer ya full treasure hunt organize karwaya hai tumne?” he teased, pretending to peer around dramatically as if expecting clues on the walls.
I bit my lip to stop my laugh. “Drawer simple hai, Mr. Detective, maze mat lo,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled, tapping the drawer lightly as if solving a great mystery. “Mission accomplished,” he said, pulling out the candles with a little victorious smirk. teased, glancing up at me.
“Drawer, bilkul simple,” I said, trying not to smile too wide.
He found the candles easily and placed them next to the cake with a dramatic little bow, as if he’d accomplished some heroic mission.
“Chocolate truffle?” he asked, peeking into the box with a grin.
“Adnan ka favorite. Aur mera bhi,” I said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Great..aapka taste zabardast hai jee,” he said, winking. “Mujhe bhi pasand hai... ab toh party aur special ho gayi.”
I shook my head at his shameless flirting but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
For a second, we just stood there — the closeness between us humming in the air, sweet and a little dangerous.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Waise... main toh keh raha hoon, tum aur yeh cake — dono party ke asli highlight ho.”
I gave him a mock glare, picking up the candles to hide my blush. “Bohot flirt karte ho aajkal, Mr. Ranjeet.”
He laughed softly. “Bas sach bol raha hoon, Ms. Birthday Queen.”
Before I could say anything smart back, we both heard footsteps approaching.
“Mummaaa!” Adnan called out excitedly, running into the kitchen in his socks, nearly sliding into me.
I quickly bent down, balancing the cake box in one hand as I caught him in a quick hug with the other.
Ranjeet chuckled. “Arre arre... party shuru hone se pehle hi goal kar diya!”
I laughed, ruffling Adnan’s hair. “Bas thoda excited hai humara birthday boy.”
Adnan grinned up at me, then looked curiously at Ranjeet.
“Cake?” he asked, eyes sparkling.
“Bas thodi der aur, champ,” Ranjeet said, kneeling down to his level. He ruffled Adnan’s hair with a playful grin. “ Captain! Guests aate hi honge, tayyar ho jao!”
Adnan puffed up his chest proudly, nodding like he had been given a top-secret mission.
Adnan giggled, nodding solemnly like it was a big responsibility.
I shook my head with a smile, feeling a warm, fuzzy happiness at the sight of the two of them—so easy, so natural.
And somewhere deep inside, a tiny, dangerous thought flickered:
This... this felt a little too perfect. Like the kind of moment you wish you could freeze and tuck away safely, knowing life rarely lets you hold onto something this warm, this easy, this full of unspoken dreams. A flutter of fear mixed with the sweetness in my chest — fear that maybe things this beautiful were never meant to last.
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