Dev's POV 

I was in a deep sleep when my phone’s ringing woke me up. Groaning, I turned to the side and cursed under my breath while reaching for the phone without even checking the caller ID.

“Where are you?” Sufiyan’s voice came from the other end.

“Jahanum mein. (In hell.)” I replied sleepily but bluntly.

Why the hell does this dog have no peace even early in the morning?

“Bhai, teri nai nai shadi hui hai tu biwi par focus kar jo tujhe abhi abhi mili hai. Is purani biwi se talak lele ab. (Bro, you just got married. Focus on your wife, the one you just got. Divorce this old wife already.)” I mumbled half-asleep.

But that bastard must have rolled his eyes at my comment. I know him too damn well.

“Mai to taiyar hu par nai biwi ko sautan se kuch zyada hi mohobbat hai toh tujhe breakfast par bula rahi hai Ammi aur Taalika. Aja. (I’m ready, but the new wife is way too fond of the ex-wife. So, Ammi and Taalika are calling you for breakfast. Come over.)” That’s all he said before cutting the call.

Now if Massi and Taalika have called me, I have to go. So I got up from the bed and got ready to head to Sufiyan’s place.

But then I thought, now that Taalika is my sister, it wouldn’t look nice to go empty-handed to her place.

Her favorite bakery had an outlet here in Delhi too, in a mall. So I went there first to get something for her.

I had already placed the order on the phone; I just had to pick it up.

As I collected the order, I stood waiting for the elevator, which was taking its sweet damn time.

Fuck!

I absolutely hate waiting.

Finally, the elevator arrived, and the moment I stepped in, I pressed the parking button without turning.

The door was about to close, and my back was facing it, when a voice called from behind,

“Aree bhaiya! Hold the elevator!”

I was a bit taken aback after hearing that voice. I wasn’t expecting to hear it here.

Didn’t she leave last night?

But what shocked me was…

She called me bhaiya!

Bhaiya!

Like, seriously?

You’re the last girl I’d want to hear that word from.

“Please, Bhaiyya, wait!”

She came running and shouting, so I had to quickly press the button to stop the elevator door.

She stepped in, panting. “Thank you so much, bhaiya!”

God! Shut up, woman!

I really wanted to scream, but at the same time I also wanted to kiss the hell out of her.

I turned around, pulled my hood off my head, and said, “I’m not your brother! Don't ever call me that!”

And the moment she saw my face, a big smile spread across hers, and she smacked my bicep with a thud and went, “Oh, Dev, it’s you!”

And let me tell you, she smacked so hard, it stung.

I wondered from where this fragile-looking Prachi got that strength to hit so hard.

But thank God she didn’t call me bhaiya again, or I would’ve lost my damn mind.

"Ok, fine, I won't. You don't need to be cranky; it was just a genuine phrase for a stranger. I hadn't seen your face from behind." She rolled her eyes, and, fuck me, I don't know how I controlled myself from not spanking her right there.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“The same thing you’re doing!” She said, lifting up the pastry box in her hand while eyeing the one in mine. “I’m leaving today and wanted to meet Taali before that. Anyway, you’re going there too, right?”

She asked, but without waiting for my answer, the chatterbox just started going off again.

“Great! Save me cab money.” She giggled while putting her box over mine in my hands, and I was just looking at her, blinking in awe or irritation, I don't know.

The elevator reached the parking lot, and she walked out of the elevator.

“Do you even know my car?” I asked, walking behind her.

"If you walk ahead, only then will I know the way. You’re just strolling behind, swinging your arms," She said.

I was stunned. Swinging my arms? Seriously? Like, what even?

If I was swinging my arms, then who exactly was carrying this heavy box for her highness?

I somehow shifted the box to one hand, pulled out the car keys from my pocket with the other, and pressed the unlock button. And the moment the unlocking sound came from a car, Madam silently started walking toward it.

She plopped into the passenger seat like she owned the damn car, throwing her bag to the side and kicking off her sandals with a sigh of relief, and I was keeping those boxes in the backseat like her driver before settling on the driver's seat.

“Ugh, Delhi heat is a different breed. My hair had volume when I stepped out and now looks flat and fried!” She rambled, flipping down the sun visor to check herself in the mirror. “But thank God I wore waterproof kajal today.”

I didn’t say a word. I just… looked.

At the way, her lips moved a mile a minute. At the tiny mole near the corner of her bottom lip, I had noticed it before.

At the ribbon of her dupatta slipping off her shoulder as she leaned toward the mirror.

At the way, her beautiful long silky hair cascading down till her hips, how much I wanted to braid them myself then wrap it around my hand and pull it to arch her body while I am taking her from behind on her fours.

At her collarbone peeking out through her kurti, the skin dewy, soft, sinful.

All I wanted was to get a little sneak peek of that mole between her breasts, but I couldn't, as the neck of her kurti wasn't that deep.

I haven't seen her usually in this avatar. I mean, I have seen her in traditional attire on special occasions, but casually I have always seen her in Western attire. Jeans and tops and shirts or whatever.

But that damn fucking kurti is looking bomb on her. Hugging her luscious curves in the damn right places.

She kept talking about some incident in the pastry shop.

But I wasn't listening exactly. I was admiring the beauty in front of my eyes.

“There was a girl in that shop, and she was eating her pastry quietly when a little boy slammed into her, and her whole face got a whipped cream facial.” And she started laughing while checking her mascara.

My hands were clenched around the steering wheel because her laughter was doing wicked things to my chest.

Because her scent, jasmine and sugar and something dangerously feminine, was crawling under my skin.

She was sitting barely two feet away, in a goddamn floral kurti, talking about her mascara and Delhi heat, completely unaware that I was drowning in her.

In the way her bangles clinked.

In the way she absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

I wanted to kiss her.

I wanted to ruin her.

And I hated myself for it.

“…and I swear Taali better not cry when I leave, because then I’ll cry, and then it’ll be like a Karan Johar climax in that drawing room,” She said dramatically, putting her feet up on the dashboard like she hadn’t just hijacked every shred of my sanity.

“Put your feet down,” I said roughly, my voice hoarse.

She blinked. “Why? I cleaned them before coming out….”

“Just… put them down, Prachi.” I interrupt firmly.

Because if you sit like that, I swear I’ll wreck this car.

She rolled her eyes but obeyed, humming a soft Bollywood song under her breath.

And that fucking humming?

I swear it was erotic. Everything about her was.

Damn me! I want her right here in this damn car! What's wrong with me?

“Dev?” She suddenly asked, tilting her head.

I glanced at her, jaw tight. “Yeah?”

“You’re being abnormally quiet. Usually you insult me at least twice by now. What’s wrong with you?”

You.

You’re what’s wrong with me.

That's what I wanted to growl, biting her, marking her as mine.

But I muttered. “I’m driving,”

“You’re brooding,” She corrected.

“No, I’m… trying not to crash.”

She laughed again, that annoying, addictive laugh that I could play on loop if it didn’t also make my palms itch with need.

God, she had no idea.

No idea what she did to me.

What she was to me.

The worst part?

She trusted me. Completely. Sat beside me with zero fear, zero hesitation, like I was some fucking gentleman who’d never think of pinning her against the nearest wall.

As if I wasn’t imagining that exact thing right now.

As if I wasn’t wondering how she’d taste if I just leaned over and shut her up with my mouth.

She turned to me again, holding out a bottle of water from her tote. “Thirsty?”

Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how much I am.

We finally reached Sufiyan’s place.

It was barely a 15-minute drive from the mall, but honestly? Those were the most torturous 15 minutes of my life.

The moment we entered, the two best friends went off like wind-up toys, nonstop chatter, excited squeals, hugs.

God, how do girls talk that much?

Even at the breakfast table, their nonsense didn’t stop for a second. It was like the universe had hit fast-forward on their mouths.

Just then, Massi noticed the pastry boxes and asked, “Who brought these?”

“They’re Taalika’s favorites, so I thought I’d bring some for her,” I replied casually.

“Oh? But they won’t stay her favorites for long now,” Massi said with a teasing smirk.

The woman was a renowned pastry chef herself, the best, no doubt, and could never resist a good jab.

“Sure, Ammi,” Taalika said sweetly, smiling.

We all sat down and had breakfast. The room was loud, warm, and filled with food and laughter and far too many words flying around for my liking.

And Prachi?

She was in her element, laughing, eating, talking with her mouth full, and animated as hell. She wiped her nose cutely with a tissue, passed me a glass of juice without even looking, and kept on talking to Taalika about some childhood prank they once pulled on their tuition teacher, and my lovesick friend is listening to everything keenly, but I have to go.

I wanted to stay.

I wanted to stay just a little longer. Just a few more minutes to keep watching her. To feel her near me. To let her voice wrap around my mind like a goddamn lullaby and a siren’s call at once.

But I had work. Important work.

So I left.

Because if I stayed even a minute longer, I knew I’d do something stupid, like pull her aside and confess how much her voice makes my pulse race.

Today was an incredibly hectic and unusually long day. Back-to-back calls with music composers, followed by a few meetings, and now, finally, I’ve wrapped everything up and reached home.

Being a manager isn’t an easy job, especially when the person you’re managing is your best friend.

By the time I returned home, the sky outside had melted into a haze of dull grey, like someone had sucked all the color out of the city.

I shut the door behind me with a loud click and tossed the keys on the console.

My jacket came off, my shirt followed, and by the time I made it to the bedroom, I had half a mind to just pass out face-first on the bed.

But I didn’t.

Because I needed… her.

Not her, her.

The one behind the screen.

The one I had never seen.

The one I’d been talking to, no, craving, for almost a year now.

The stranger who knew exactly how to unravel me with words.

No pleasantries. No filters. No masks.

Just raw, unfiltered lust and, weirdly… comfort.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, head tilted back, eyes closed for a moment, letting the silence crawl across my skin like a balm after a day of chaos.

My phone buzzed with another goddamn email.

Fuck off.

I ignored it and opened the app instead, the one I never should’ve signed up for in the first place.

But tonight, I didn’t want logic.

I wanted her.

WhisperOfYes: You’re late today, stranger. I thought you ghosted me.

A small smirk tugged at my lips. She usually messaged first. Even when she pretended not to care.

NoSafeWords: I’m here now. Rough day. My soul’s barely intact.

WhisperOfYes: Want me to fix it? Or ruin it more? 

Fuck.

That one sentence was enough to make my breath hitch.

It wasn’t even about the sex. Not really. It was her. The way she typed. The pauses. The teasing.

The way she could flirt and destroy in the same sentence.

I leaned back against the headboard, loosened my belt, and typed slowly.

NoSafeWords: Ruin me. I deserve it.

Her typing bubble appeared instantly.

WhisperOfYes: Are you lying in bed? Lights off? Shirtless?

I chuckled. Now she even knows my routine without even me telling her.

NoSafeWords: Yes. Want to come over and check?

WhisperOfYes: I’d rather make you beg without touching you.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

I closed my eyes for a second and exhaled through clenched teeth. My body had been screaming for a break all day, and now it was screaming for her.

The irony?

I had spent all morning trying to avoid getting hard while driving Prachi around in that fucking floral kurti.

And now here I am… Hard as stone.

Imagining a nameless woman whispering filthy things in my ear and seeing Prachi's face.

I was so fucked.

So. Fucked.