Moonlight spilled across the silent garden, the soft sound of the fountain filling the night.

Before Arohi could step away, Aryan suddenly caught her wrist and twisted it gently behind her back, pulling her closer in one swift motion.

“Chhodiye mujhe!” Arohi struggled, trying to push him away.
“Aap bulldozer nahi… rakshas ho! Yeh kya badtameezi hai?”

Her voice trembled with anger as the cool night breeze lifted her long hair, strands dancing across her face. In the pale moonlight she looked untouched… almost unreal.

For a moment, Aryan forgot to breathe.

He had seen many women before—confident, bold, glamorous—but never someone with such raw, unguarded innocence.

His half-open shirt shifted with the wind, the moonlight brushing across the sharp lines of his chest. But Arohi didn’t even notice.

Her entire attention was fixed on her captured hand… and the man holding it.

Aryan tightened his grip just a little, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper near her ear.

“Abhi toh sirf haath pakda hai, Arohi… itni jaldi darr gayi?”