---

10:30 PM - At Rowan's Mansion

The living room was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of wine glasses-except for one person.

Emma sat there, her arms crossed, giving Jaxson the most dramatic puppy eyes possible. But Jaxson only sighed, shaking his head.

"Emma, no. You're pregnant. Have some mercy on yourself."

Emma huffed, shifting her face to the side in mock annoyance. "Fine.  I'll deal with you in the bedroom."

A chorus of amused "Oooohs" echoed around the room from the girls, making Jaxson roll his eyes.

"Did you call Andrew?" Jaxson asked, looking at Rowan.

Rowan leaned back against the couch. "I tried. He said he had work."

Isabel, who had just opened her mouth to speak, was immediately cut off.

"So, everyone-" she began, only for Jaxson to raise a hand.

"Just wait two minutes, sis. We have something to announce."

Isabel's eyes twitched as she turned toward Rowan. "Hold me back, or I swear I'll beat him. He always cuts me off."

"You're acting like he's about to drop some big news," Olivia teased. "Like meeting Shayeli or something."

Jaxson smirked. "Well... actually, yeah. That's exactly what it is."

Silence. Then-

"WHAT?!" Olivia, Luna, Isabel, and Emma shouted in unison.

"Yup," James confirmed, sipping his wine.

Luna let out a breath. "Damn. We were all scared he'd end up choosing Kylie."

"Right?" Olivia nodded. "Kylie and Shayeli are complete opposites."

"I noticed that too," Luna agreed. "And honestly, I don't think Shayeli would ever try to separate Andrew from us."

"Unlike Kylie," Olivia added.

Isabel scoffed, her expression darkening. "Why are we even talking about that witch? Don't ruin my mood."

Rowan chuckled, rubbing circles on her back. "Relax, my little firecracker."

"Even mentioning her makes the atmosphere toxic," Luna muttered.

James cleared his throat. "Alright, let's drop the topic. We have bigger things to discuss-like the wedding."

"Right," Rowan grinned. "We're getting married in six months. But for now, our priority is taking care of Emma."

"Agreed," Isabel nodded firmly.

Emma sighed. "Guys, you don't have to put everything on hold for me. I'm fine."

Isabel shot her a glare. "You always say that. We're not listening to you this time. The wedding is happening on September 10th-no more arguments."

Emma sighed in defeat as everyone nodded in agreement.

"Now, let's talk about the  upcoming function," Luna said.

Emma straightened. "Baby shower. And let me make one thing clear-I'll decide when to have it. No interference."

Jaxson smirked. "As you wish, darling."

Luna leaned forward. "At least give us an idea."

Emma tapped her fingers on the armrest, thinking. "Robert isn't here, and it'll take him some time to return. Plus, I want to invite Shayeli, but if I do, she'll see Andrew there. And right now... Andrew hasn't told her anything. They're not even in a relationship yet."

Everyone fell silent, understanding the situation.

"So, we'll wait," Emma continued. "Until things between them develop. Until something happens. Because honestly? I don't want my baby shower without them ."

A quiet agreement settled in the room.

For now, they would wait.
-

6:00 AM

"Pumpkin, come on! We have to go home!" I called out in a cute tone, watching my little troublemaker run wild in the garden, completely ignoring me.

"Uff, this boy..." I sighed, placing my hands on my hips.

I know he's a dog, but to me, he's like a baby. The way a mother's stress fades when she sees her child is the same way I feel when I look at Pumpkin. I brought him home when he was just two months old, and now a whole year has passed. I didn't even realize how fast time flew.

He's not just a pet—he's family. If someone asked me to choose between saving myself or him, I wouldn't even hesitate. I'd pick him. That's just how I am. Too emotional, just like my mom. I cry even when nothing happens to me.

Also... let's not even talk about my body. Curvy. Insecure. Criticizing myself every single day. It's a full-time job at this point.

"Okay, last warning! If you don't come now, I'm leaving without you!" I threatened, knowing damn well he wasn't going to listen.

As expected, no reaction.

"Fine! Stay here then. Bye!"

I turned around and started walking toward the street.

Still no sign of him.

"Okay, Pumpkin, you had your chance!" I raised my voice dramatically and took a step forward.

The next second, I heard the frantic sound of paws against the pavement.

I smirked. Knew it.

Pumpkin sprinted towards me, skidding to a stop in front of me, barking as if he was scolding me.

"Oh, now you care? You didn't come when I called you, so I left." I crossed my arms, pretending to be mad.

He barked again.

I pointed a finger at him. "Why are you mad at me? It's your fault, mister."

In America, you don't see many stray dogs roaming around—maybe one or two at most. So, it's easy to walk around without a leash.

I gave Pumpkin a little push on his hip. "Let's go, drama king."

He finally climbed the stairs, and we entered the apartment.

I glanced at the clock. One hour left before I leave for the café.

And of course, my thoughts drifted to him again.

I don't even know his name, and yet, he's constantly on my mind.

You know, whenever I imagined my future husband, I always refers him as "Unknown."

Uff, pata nahi kahaan hoga. (Ugh, who knows where he is.)

"Chhod, Shayeli. Ab nahi sochna uske baare mein. Nahi toh tu pitegi." (Forget it, Shayeli. No more thinking about him, or you'll regret it.)

Shaking my head, I grabbed Pumpkin's food and filled his bowl. Then, I pulled out some fresh clothes from my cupboard and headed straight to the bathroom.

A hot shower might help... or at least, I hope it will.

---

Author: request you to play from  here "kuchh khass h"  by mohit chauhan and neha bhasin.❤️

9:45 PM

Today was a good day.

The girls visited the café again, and we spent a lot of time talking. I like them. Or maybe it's just that I don't feel so alone anymore.

Back in college, I had plenty of friends, but none that I was truly close to. Everyone got busy with their own lives, and I got busy with mine.

But these four? They feel different. They're bold, mature, and fun to be around. And Emma—she's pregnant! I asked her why she didn't tell me earlier, and she admitted she was uncomfortable at the time. Fair enough. If I were in her position, I'd probably feel the same way about telling a stranger.

I don't know why, but I have a feeling that in the future, we'll share a strong bond. They visit often, and I like their company.

Right now, I'm sitting at a table in the café, staring at the clock. Fifteen more minutes before closing.

All the staff members have already left for the night. I always make sure I'm the last one to leave.

I like spending this quiet time alone in the café. Just sitting here, watching the road outside.

Wait... is that... him?

No, no. Maine aaj hi socha tha ki main is ke barre main nhi sochungi or ye yaha aa gaya.{ I just decided today that I wouldn't think about him, and now he's standing right there}

Nhi,nhi wapis jaa please { No, please, go back}.

He's the one who stole my sleep at night. No more hopes, no more unnecessary thoughts. I had finally managed to not think about him much today, but now? He's completely taken over my mind again.

And his looks? Don't even ask.

A long black coat, black shirt, black pants—is he obsessed with black? I swear, his entire wardrobe must be filled with nothing but black. And in his hand... a bouquet of lilies. My favorite.

My emotions are all over the place. On one side, I feel restless, excited—like I should run away, as if my stomach isn't just filled with butterflies but an entire zoo.

On the other side... I feel peace, relief, as if everything in the world suddenly makes sense.

Like when a wife sees her husband after a long, exhausting day, and just his presence washes away all her tiredness. Like when you hug someone and feel a warmth so deep that it makes the world disappear.

Just by seeing him, I can feel that warmth.

I didn't know he had this much of an effect on me.

If you had told me three weeks ago that I'd end up liking someone, I would've laughed in your face. I believed I would die single. That no one was made for me. After everything I saw in my childhood, I was sure love was something my life would skip over.

But now... I think...

Maybe.

Just maybe.

It's 

LOVE.

---

I've made my decision. I'm telling her.

I'm not the kind of man who sits back and watches from a distance. No. Never.

I hate this restless feeling. This unease. It's not me. I'd rather stand up and face whatever the hell this is, rather than let it control me.

That's why I chose this time—late, quiet, undisturbed. No one's here to interfere. Just me and her.

As I park my car, my eyes find her immediately. Sitting alone at the café, lost in thought. The entire place is dark except for one light—the one shining directly above her.

She's wearing a soft pink frock that falls just below her knees, paired with boots and a white cardigan. Cute. Not sexy. Not sultry. Just... beautiful. Sweet. Soft. Different. Maybe it's her personality.

Her long hair flows past her hips, and no, this isn't the first time I've noticed.

No.

Not even close.

I always notice. Every damn morning.

She's the first thought in my head when I wake up, the reason I even bother opening my eyes some days. Her presence is the only thing that makes my mornings bearable.

And right now, as she finally looks up and our eyes meet, I step out of the car.

She stands up as soon as she sees me, and I know—I affect her. Just like she affects me.

She's so pure. Too pure.

Right now, I can't— won't—stay away from her.

Love?

Na. I don't do loveshit.

My previous relationship is for ***.

As I close the distance between us, watching the way her breath hitches, her fingers tightening around the chair behind her... I know exactly what this is.

 possession.

---

As he reaches me, he extends the bouquet toward me—lilies. My favorite.

For a moment, I just stare. At the bouquet. At him.

My heart is racing, my hands suddenly cold, yet my whole body feels warm. What's happening to me?

Then—his voice. Deep, firm, leaving no room for doubt.

"Date me."

My breath catches. My knees feel weak. Did he just—?

The word slips from my lips before I can stop it.

"What?"

I blink at him, stunned, unable to process. But deep down, beneath the shock, something stirs inside me.

Something warm. Electric. Unsettling.

And maybe—just maybe—I don't want it to settle down.

"I think you heard right," he says, his voice steady.

"Yeah, but wait... I think I misheard you," I reply, trying to convince myself more than him.

But he cuts me off. "No, you didn't."

My eyes flicker to the bouquet he's still holding out toward me. My hands twitch. What's happening to me?

And then, as if my body moves on its own, I take it from him.

His lips curl into a smirk.

"Why are you smiling? I didn't say yes," I snap, trying to regain some control.

"Yeah, I know," he says, and his smirk deepens.

Heat rushes to my face. I am embarrassed. Flustered. I quickly turn away, trying to compose myself.

"What will you have?" I ask, trying to sound normal.

"You," he answers without hesitation.

My breath catches. What?

I stare at him, completely shocked.

"Yeah, I want you to date me," he adds, leaning against the counter casually, like he didn't just say something that turned my whole world upside down.

I blink. Once. Twice. Not able to move.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally manage to step back, my fingers nervously gripping the edge of the counter. "I—I don't even know you. Your name, what you do... how can I date you?" I stammer.

His smirk deepens, eyes dark with amusement.

I can't face him anymore. I turn around and place the bouquet on the slab, trying to steady myself.

Then, his voice comes—low, confident. "Andrew."

I freeze. Slowly, I turn back toward him.

"Andrew Smith," he continues, holding my gaze. 

"Age 30".

 In work...

" you could say I own a company."

Oh.

That's all I manage to say. 

My brain struggles to process everything.

I clear my throat, forcing my voice to sound composed.

 "So, Mr. Andrew... if you don't want to order anything, you can leave. The café is already closed."

"I will," he says, "but you still haven't given me my answer."

"I... I—" Before I can form a sentence, he cuts me off.

"Is it yes?" His voice is calm, yet demanding.

"N-No. I mean—" I stammer, completely flustered.

"Answer me, Miss Shayeli."

I swallow hard, my mind racing for a way out. "The café is closed. I'm leaving."

I turn toward the main door, eager to escape the intensity of his gaze. But before I can take another step, he catches my wrist.

In one swift motion, he pulls me back, spinning me around—too fast for me to react. I lose my balance.

My hands instinctively grip his shoulders for support. The sudden closeness leaves no space between us. His cheek brushes against mine.

A shiver runs down my spine.

He doesn't wrap his arms around me, yet the way our bodies align... it feels like an embrace. A breathless, unspoken moment.

I feel the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Oh God.

I should pull away. I should step back.

But I can't.

My heart pounds so loudly, I feel like it might burst out of my chest.

I can't think. I can't breathe.

His fingers gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The scent of his cologne wraps around me.

I tilt my head slightly, my eyes meeting his.

And he's smirking. Again.

"Yes or no?" His voice is smooth, unwavering.

"I promise I'll leave you ... but answer me," he adds.

I manage to whisper, "Are you pressuring me?"

He smirks again but says nothing.

Then, just like that, he releases me.

I immediately step back, putting distance between us. But his eyes... they never leave mine.

"Okay then, I'll wait."

He steps back. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he stops.

His gaze still locked on me.

"I'll come back. Till then, decide your answer." I barely register anything. I feel numb.

Just as he turns to leave, out of nowhere—

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.

I freeze.

By the time I process what just happened, he's already walking away, not even glancing back.

My shock wears off in an instant, and I run after him.

"You—!" I start, but the words get stuck in my throat. How can I even say it?

He turns around while still walking—backward.

And then... that smirk.

Before I can react, he winks at me. Bold. Shameless.

Oh. My. God.

He finally turns away, reaches his car, and opens the door. Just as he settles into the driver's seat, his window rolls down.

"Come on, I'll drop you," he calls out.

Before I can even think, I dash back inside the café—hiding.

From behind the door, I swear I hear him chuckle.

I knew this would happen.

She's shy—too shy— I can feel it.

The way her heart pounded, how her breath hitched, the way her hands trembled slightly when she gripped my shoulders.

She likes me.

But she won't admit it. Not yet.

She's confused—I could see it all over her face.

It was hard to step back when she asked if I was pressuring her. I don't want her to feel that way. She's an adult. She has her own choices.

But one thing is clear in my mind.

She is mine.

And I will go to any extent to make her accept it.

At shayeli home,
Here's your scene with an eerie and intense atmosphere:

---

The dim light of the apartment flickered slightly as the ceiling fan hummed above. A thick haze of cigar smoke curled through the air, its scent mixing with the faint aroma of Shayeli's lavender-scented candles.

A man, aged somewhere between forty and fifty, lounged on Shayeli's sofa, his black-clad figure sinking into the cushions. His cap cast a shadow over half his face, but the wicked curl of his lips remained visible—a smile that never quite reached his dead, predatory eyes.

His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, but the real rhythm came from the knife in his other hand.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sharp edge of the blade kissed the sofa's fabric, pressing down just enough to leave a faint mark before he slid it beneath the cushion.

And then, his voice, deep and slow, carried through the room like a chilling whisper.

"Beqarar karke humein yoon na jaiye,

Aapko humari kasam laut aaiye"

The eerie melody dripped from his tongue, each word soaked in something sinister. He let the last note hang in the air, tilting his head slightly, as if savoring the moment.

Then—a sudden vibration.

His phone rang, the screen glowing in the dimness. Without urgency, he picked it up, placing the cigar between his lips as he exhaled a slow, lazy stream of smoke.

"Yes, boss. What happened?"

"Did she come?"

"No."

A pause. His fingers clenched slightly around the phone.

"Don't kill her yet. There are more important things than killing her. We'll do it another day."

His jaw tensed. A flicker of irritation darkened his expression.

"But boss, I want to kill her now. It's a great chance—"

"Shut up." The voice on the other end was sharp, final. "It's 1 AM. I told you—if you didn't do it by midnight, you'd be off this mission. You wasted an hour. If you don't leave now, I'll throw you out for good."

The call ended with a cold beep.

His grip tightened on the phone before he let out a slow exhale, pushing down his frustration. Not yet.

Standing up, he made his way to the nightstand, plucking the small notepad that rested there. He ripped a page, pulled out a pen, and scribbled something down.

Then, with a smirk, he walked to the washroom mirror, sticking the note in place.

For a final touch, he unsheathed a small blade and dragged it across his thumb—just deep enough.

A single drop of blood. Then another. And another.

The sticky note stained red as the ink and blood mixed together, the message now tainted with something far more ominous.

With a final glance at his work, he turned on his heel and walked out of the apartment, the scent of smoke and something far more dangerous lingering in the air.

---

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

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