Arundhati’s Apartment
Arundhati sat cross-legged on the study table next to her bed, trying to read through her notes from the day’s court sessions. She had opened the file over an hour ago, but none of the legal jargon, statements, or arguments had managed to imprint themselves in her mind. Her fingers were turning the pages, but her thoughts were stuck elsewhere.
Or more precisely…on someone.
Kushal.
After escaping the office post her court sessions, she hadn’t returned to Verma & Associates. She didn’t want to face him again. Instead, she came home, hoping the solitude would give her clarity, and since then, she had been just trying hard to focus. Be it in the household chores or now in these case papers.
Nothing worked, though.
And just when she had finally decided to close the file and call it a night, the doorbell rang.
She frowned, turning to the digital clock on her side table.
12:15 a.m.
Who the hell could it be?
She walked to the door, still in her sleeveless soft pink satin nightwear with a subtle slit down one side. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders as she peeked through the peephole, and her breath caught.
Kushal?
She opened the door before her brain could catch up.
He stood there in a fitted grey night set—a fine cotton T-shirt clinging to his chest, paired with matching trousers. Tired eyes. A stubble dusting his jaw. Although exhausted… still lookingheartbreakingly handsome. For a few minutes, they just looked at each other.
But then reality crept back in, and her expression shifted. Her brows arched, silently demanding an explanation. What was he doing here after all? At this hour?
But before she could ask, he stepped past her, walking in like he owned the place…like he belonged here.
Seriously?
She closed the door behind him, watching, as he made his way through the living room, locating her bedroom, and once he saw it, he walked right in, without any hesitation.
“Kushal,” she called, confused. “What are you doing here?”
But he didn’t answer.
He entered her room, peeled off his T-shirt in one smooth motion, tossed it on the recliner, then began straightening the duvet on her bed like it was the most natural thing to do.
She stood frozen, breath catching in her throat, watching the lean ripple of his back as he tugged the duvet straight for him to get in.
Once the bed was made, he then turned to her.
“I couldn’t sleep alone,” he finally spoke, like the answer should have been obvious. “Not after the last three nights in Dalhousie.”
He looked dead serious and intimate in the most disarming way.
Her mouth fell open, but no words came. Because honestly, she got it. She hadn’t slept well either. Her body missed the warmth of his. The raw feel of his arm draped around her. The way he’d murmur something teasing in her ear and then hold her close when the night grew cold.
Still, she managed a half-hearted scoff. “You couldn’t sleep at your place, so you just show up at mine? What do you want me to do? Sing a lullaby or something?”
Kushal walked back to her, slid his arms around her waist, and pulled her flush against him.
“No,” he said, his voice low, rasping. “Just let me hold you and sleep. One night, Aru…that’s all I ask. With you beside me.”
She should have stepped back. She should have said no. But instead, she breathed in his cologne…the same warm, intoxicating scent from those nights in Dalhousie. The scent that turned her knees to water.