Andrew pov…

It's been six months.

Six fucking months of trying to erase her from my mind, of pretending she never existed, of telling myself I didn't care. But every single night, the thought of her crept in like an uninvited ghost, slipping past my defenses. No matter how much I fought it, her face—those damn eyes—kept haunting me.

After that day, I never saw her again. Never tried to. Didn't even let myself think about her. I couldn't afford to. I didn't want any girl catching my attention, let alone her. And yet, despite everything, I spent these six months drowning in memories I swore I had buried.

I told myself I didn't care, but then why did I keep glancing at that piece of cloth she left behind? The long, flowing thing she used to wear—I never even figured out what it was called. And maybe I didn't need to. Because no matter what name I gave it, the truth remained the same. It was hers. And that alone was enough to make it impossible to forget.

I thought I had control. I thought I could handle this.

Until I ran into her again.

Right there, in front of her café.

One look, and every carefully built wall inside me came crashing down.

I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't look away. And before I knew it, the words left my mouth—raw, unfiltered, desperate

"Date me."

I know it's not easy for her to accept my proposal. But backing off? Nah.

Andrew Smith doesn't back off. I never learned how to.

And after finding out that someone broke into her house—tried to kill her—I sure as hell wasn't going to sit back and do nothing. The thought alone made my blood boil. If they thought I'd just watch from the sidelines, they was dead wrong. That's why I'm here, standing outside her apartment.

She didn't show up at the café today. I knew she wouldn't. She's always been shy, always found excuses to avoid attention. But she's not getting away from me this time.

I press the doorbell and wait. The seconds stretch like an eternity before I finally hear the soft creak of the door unlocking. It opens just a little, just enough for her to peek outside.

She doesn't see me.

I stand behind the door, the way it swings outward hiding me from her view. She hesitates, looking around, unaware that I'm right here—so close, I can hear her breathing.

She thinks it's empty.

She hesitates for a moment, scanning the empty hallway, probably thinking it was just her imagination.

But then—

"Hello."

My voice is low, rough, cutting through the silence like a blade.

She freezes.

Slowly, she turns around, her breath hitching the moment her eyes land on me. I see the flicker of emotions flash across her face—shock, confusion... something else. Something she tries to hide.

Too late. I already caught it.

For a second, neither of us moves. The air between us is thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Six months of silence, of distance, of pretending. All of it shatters in an instant.

And now that she finally came in front of me, there's no way in hell I'm letting her slide again.

Shayeli pov…

I didn't know he was this shameless—showing up at a girl's apartment in the middle of the night like he owns the damn world.

What does he think he is? A gangster? Some kind of king who can walk into anyone's place without a second thought?

Theek hai, handsome toh hai, and sure, if he stood in front of any girl's house, she might just lose her senses and let him in. But not me. I'm not the kind of girl who falls for smooth smiles and arrogant confidence. If he thinks he can manipulate me, he's dead wrong.

We lock eyes. He just stands there—smiling. Smiling!

Oh god. How can he be so comfortable? We're strangers! He's acting like we've known each other for years, like he belongs here.

I need to break this tension before it suffocates me.

"What are you doing here?" My voice is sharp, demanding answers.

His smirk deepens. "You didn't answer my question." His voice is low, almost a murmur, but there's something dangerous about it. "So I had to come here."

And just like that, he steps inside. No hesitation. No asking for permission. Like this is his place.

My eyes widen as I take in his appearance—dressed in all black. A long coat over a fitted shirt, black pants, polished shoes, and on his wrist, a silver watch that practically screams wealth. Every part of him radiates control, power, and a confidence that makes my nerves tangle.

He moves past me and settles onto my couch, like he's done it a thousand times before.

I stare at him in disbelief as he reaches for my bowl of noodles—the same one I was eating—and takes a bite. Just like that.

"Hmm," he hums, chewing. "It's good. You should cook for me too."

I blink. I'm not scared. But I sure as hell don't trust him. I'm alone, in a foreign country, with a man who is practically a stranger, and he's acting like he owns my damn apartment.

No. This is not happening.

I grab my phone, quickly dialing the police—

Screen goes black.

What the—?

I shake the phone, pressing buttons. Nothing.

A soft scoff makes me look up.

He's already watching me. Smirking. Smirking.

Something in my stomach twists. No way.

I glare at him. "What did you do to my phone?"

He shrugs, completely unbothered. "I hacked it."

Hacked it?!

My patience snaps. "Are you a stalker?"

No answer. Just another slow sip of my beer—from the same spot where my lipstick left a stain.

My hands clench. Oh, he's shameless.

His left hand rests in his coat pocket, while his right hand lazily lifts the beer to his lips. His black eyes stay locked on mine, dark and unreadable. And then—he winks.

That's it. I'm out.

I don't care what he wants. I don't care if he came to steal or just torment me. I need to get the hell out of here.

I sprint for the door—only to slam face-first into it.

Locked.

I bite my lip to keep from cursing. How could he...He hacked my damn security system too.

Oh god. I'm trapped.

I inhale deeply, forcing my panic down. I can handle this.

If he tries anything, I'll hit him. I'll bite him if I have to. Hell, I'll climb on his back and pull his hair if it comes to that. He doesn't know who he's messing with.

I square my shoulders and turn back to him. He's still there, completely relaxed, like my panic is nothing but entertainment for him.

"Welcome home," he says smoothly, tilting his head.

I scoff. "What do you want from me?"

He takes another slow sip of beer.

"Beer?" I snap, exasperated.

He finally rises from the couch and pats the seat beside him, an obvious invitation. Not happening.

Instead, I turn and sit at the dining table—far away from him.

He doesn't like that. I can tell by the way his expression darkens slightly. But I don't care. I meet his gaze head-on.

"Why are you here? What do you want? Answer me."

His response is immediate. "I need my answer."

I grind my teeth. Unbelievable.

He could have just asked at the café. He didn't have to pull this ridiculous stunt.

But no—of course not. Because he's insane.

"You didn't come today," he says simply, like that justifies everything. "So I had to come here."

That's it. I've had enough.

I push back from the chair and storm toward him, ready to end this.

I stand in front of him, gathering every ounce of my patience.

"Listen, Mr..." I pause. Wait. What was his name again?

I knew it just a second ago!

"ANDREW. ANDREW SMITH."

He says it like I should have it tattooed on my brain.

"Ha, ha, right." I roll my eyes. "Listen, Mr. Andrew, it's completely inappropriate to barge into a girl's apartment at night. I don't care what your reason is—you don't hack someone's phone or their security system. You should behave. And what's with this 'you didn't come today' excuse? You should've waited like an obedient man!"

I jab my finger at him, emphasizing every word.

But instead of looking guilty—or even remotely apologetic—he stands up.

And starts walking toward me.

I take a step back, immediately raising my hand to stop him.

"Hey! Stay right there. Talk from a distance. You don't need to come near me."

He pauses, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But before he can say anything—

The lights cut out.

Everything plunges into darkness.

A startled gasp escapes me as the sudden blackness swallows the room. My heart jumps into my throat. Shit.

On instinct, I move.

And before I realize what I've done, my hands grip onto something solid—him.

My fingers tighten around the cuff of his coat. I know he did something.

"You did this, didn't you?" I accuse, my voice sharp. "You messed with the lights. See, if there was even the slightest chance I'd say yes to you, you just ruined it by cutting the power."

Andrew doesn't flinch. Instead, he calmly takes my hand, his grip firm but unthreatening. Then, with his other hand, he pulls out his phone and slides it toward me. The screen glows faintly in the darkness, displaying something unexpected—

Access to my phone. My security system. But not the lights.

"Oh." The single syllable slips out of my mouth.

"So, does this happen often?" he asks, his voice low.

I swallow, trying to focus. On him or my surroundings? I can't decide. The darkness has my nerves tangled, and I hate how vulnerable I feel right now.

I nod slowly. "Hmm."

I can't even believe this. I was the one who told him to stay away. I was the one keeping my distance. And now? I'm the one gripping onto him.

He clears his throat, bringing my attention back to him.

"Since the lights are off, give me your answer."

I instinctively step back. I still don't know what to say. But before I can create any real distance between us, he grabs my hand.

And steps closer.

My breath catches in my throat.

"Hey! Just because I'm scared of the dark doesn't mean you can take advantage of me," I snap, trying to sound composed.

He scoffs. "I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already scared. Wonder what'll happen when I actually do something."

I gasp, shocked at his shamelessness, and hit his arm. "You're really shameless, aren't you?"

Andrew just smirks. "Can't help it. I'm American."

I roll my eyes, but my heart is hammering.

"Come on," he presses. "Give me my answer, and I'll leave."

My breath hitches. I knew this moment was coming. And I knew that if I answered now, without asking him the questions running through my mind, I'd regret it.

So, before my courage disappears, I take a deep breath.

"I need to ask you something first." My words come out in a rush. "Before I make a decision, I want everything to be clear."

Andrew hums in response, waiting.

I gather every ounce of courage I have and start speaking.

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Thanks for reading.

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