The mansion had grown quiet — like a song exhaling its final note.
Hiya twisted beneath the blanket, her long hair fanned across the pillow like a curtain of black silk. But sleep wouldn't come. Her heart still fluttered with echoes of the evening — the glittering dinner table, the warmth of new faces… and the man who sat beside her like a wall of silence.
Dev.
The one who caught her like a shield.
The one who didn't say a single word to her all night.
She slipped out of bed, barefoot on marble. The air was still, the hallway dim. Curiosity tugged her forward — up the wooden staircase, each step creaking like a secret in the dark. The terrace door was ajar, the breeze calling like a whisper.
And there he was.
Leaning against the railing, cigarette nestled between his fingers. Moonlight washed over his face, smoke curling like silver shadows around his jaw. His eyes were half-lidded, lost in thought.
Hiya froze.
But something brave fluttered in her chest.
"Hi…" she said softly.
Dev didn't look at her. He exhaled slowly, the ember flaring orange in the dark.
"You'll be riding with me to college," he said.
Hiya blinked. "Really?"
"But pretend like we don't know each other," he added flatly. "If anything happens, text me. Don't talk to me."
She stepped closer, confused. "Why?"
He finally looked at her — eyes cold, voice sharper than the wind.
"Because I don't like talking to ugly people."
Hiya's mouth fell open. A tiny gasp escaped her lips.
She stared at him, stunned. A pang bloomed quietly in her chest.
"I'm not ugly," she muttered, trying to sound fierce. "I'm just… slightly fat."
Dev raised a brow. "Slightly?"
His tone sliced like ice.
Hiya puffed her cheeks, eyes burning with defiance. "Yes! And fat is just soft energy. I'm cute!"
There. She said it.
A flicker. The corner of his mouth twitched — almost a smile.
She looked like a sulky squirrel with battle pride.
He almost laughed. Almost.
But instead, he turned away.
"Well, don't come crying when the seniors pick on your 'soft energy'," he said.
"I won't! Not like you'll even notice," she fired back, arms folded.
"Exactly," he replied. "I won't. Just stay out of my way."
His words shouldn't have hurt. But they did.
Hiya's smile faltered. She looked away, biting her lower lip. The night wind tugged at her dupatta. Her silence filled the space between them — thick, quiet, aching.
Dev glanced at her again.
She looked… small. Hurt.
He sighed, stubbing out the cigarette.
"It's cold. Go back inside. You had a fever, remember?"
She nodded, silently turning away.
But just before she left, he said — not unkindly —
"If you're not sleepy… there are books in your room. Read something useful."
Hiya paused. "Books?"
He didn't answer.
He had already walked past her, footsteps fading down the stairs.
Back in her room, the light had been left on.
And what she saw made her breath catch.
On the desk — a brand new schoolbag. Inside it, a perfectly folded college uniform. A neat pouch with her name written in soft ink. Pens. A water bottle. And a full set of textbooks — all her subjects, all brand new.
Hiya stood frozen.
Then — like a child unwrapping Diwali presents — she gasped, squealed, and leapt onto the bed. Hugging the books to her chest, she laughed like sunlight on water.
"This is mine…? Really mine?"
She turned in circles, the skirt of her nightdress swaying. Her cheeks glowed. Her heart soared.
Above her, on the terrace, Dev leaned by the window.
Watching.
She twirled. He watched.
She hugged the books like stuffed toys. He watched.
She smiled — that open, glowing, heart-wide smile. And Dev… without meaning to…
Smiled too.
Just a little.
Then, as always, he swallowed the softness, turned his back to the night, and disappeared into silence.
🌙 End-of-Chapter Hook:
She was just a girl from a forgotten village.
He was a boy who'd learned to forget.
But in that small moment — one smiled, and one dared to dream.
And something unspoken began to bloom between them.