"You're eighteen," he insisted, still keeping me trapped between himself and the thick tree trunk. The secluded side of campus was empty enough to spare us from the usual crowd of curious eyes-less chance of running into friends or the Insta hounds. Still, it was open enough for the campus spies to easily spot us and report my little rendezvous word-by-word to my extremely strict, Amrish Puri type, decade-older brother who happened to be an MLA by profession.
I opened my mouth to respond, but I was still struggling to process what he'd just blurted so casually as if we were just discussing Prof. Sharma's bald head and his heinous affair with his 45-year-old married maid.
Eighteen must be the right age to do all these weird shits? Right? Including having handsome and rich boyfriends? Right?
I mean, what's the harm? For the fact, I was an adult. I got to decide who should be in charge of running the country, so surely I could decide who gets to manage my heart!
"B-but..." I stammered. T
BUT! That was the first word I'd uttered after staying radio silent for a whole of ten minutes.
Ten minutes ago, Akaay Randhawa-six feet tall, lean with dark curls, Moorish very grey eyes, and the younger heir of the Randhawas-Akaay had casually confessed to manifesting romantic feelings in his heart for yours truly.
And ever since then I had been opening and closing my mouth like a fish gasping for air-wishing for the safety of the water I'd recently left behind.
"I think I'm in love with you," he'd stated, hands casually stuffed in the pockets of his tattered jeans as we made our way to the literature library.
It should've been the kind of thing that stopped a girl dead in her tracks, but not me. It was so cliche! I could never stoop to that level of cringe.
Instead of pausing, gasping, blushing, or giving any of the mundane reactions-I, yours truly, decided to do what only Mridula Singh Chandel would do.
Stunned, bewildered, and overwhelmed for securing the fattest fish in the market, I tripped over my own feet and face-planted right into the bushes, rolling over to the nearest red maple tree that, oddly enough, was as out of place on campus as his confession had been.
"Ow, ow, ow... damn! Ouch!" I groaned as I struggled to get to my feet. The massive trunk was my only support as I tried to process the pain from every part of my body.
It still was my heart that screamed the loudest for attention. BAA-DUMP. BAA-DUMP. The traitorous organ was already planning its grand entrance into the ICU any second now.
"Are you okay?" Akaay's concerned voice echoed behind me, laced with an amused chuckle as he jogged over to help. Too late and too early. Late in saving me from my clumsiness, and way too early in pouring his heart out.
"No! I think I'm having a cardiac arrest!" I groaned, half in jest and fully mortified. First, I dusted off my backside, then headbutted the massive trunk to hide the tomato-red hue spreading across my face.
"Excuse me?" he chuckled, stepping closer. "I think you're fine...minus the scratches and, uh, that bump on your forehead. Come here, let me help you."
I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he reached for me. Too close. Too much.
"I'm sorry," he started, his voice softer now, "I should've chosen a better location for this. But look, Mridula, I'm serious about what I said."
I froze.
"I know I'm a bit older than you-"
"You're twenty-three," I interjected, waving him off. "It's not that much."
YOU ARE READING
Mridula
Romance"She handed him her heart, only for him to turn it into the weapon that destroyed her family." ****** Childish, impulsive Mridula Singh Chandel never thought her actions had consequences-not until Akaay Randhawa came along and fucked her up beyond r...
