Forcibly Yours

(◕‿◕) ||𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕫𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝔾𝕣𝕚𝕡||

Ruhi paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. She looked directly into his eyes, meeting his gaze with the same intensity.

For a moment, the playful banter faded, leaving only the quiet warmth between them.

She smiled gently, lowering her gaze to her plate as a hint of tension lingered in the air.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice light but tinged with understanding.

"I intend to keep you around for a long time." She paused, her lips curving into a teasing smile before adding, "But for now, let's focus on my chef's amazing parathas instead."

Dheer chuckled.

Ruhi took another bite but suddenly stopped chewing, then started chewing slowly again with a really bad expression on her face.

What happened, did you bite your tongue? Dheer asked leaning towards her.

After chewing the morsel in her mouth Ruhi opened the pratha to check the feeling and as she expected there it was.

Ruhi made a crying face.

What? dheer asked again, looking back and forth between Pratha and Ruhi.

I don't like dhaniya in pratha . It tastes so bad. Why did you add it to the filling? You could have used the powder one.

Ruhi complained looking at the pratha while removing the dhaniya from her pratha.

As Dheer sat across from Ruh, he noticed her grimace as she picked at her food.

He reached over and gently took her plate. "I didn't realize you didn't like Dhaniya," he said softly, a warm smile on his face.

He carefully began to remove the unwanted spices with a fork.

Ruhi was just looking at him.

After dinner,

Ruhanika lay on her bed, her phone in hand, completely absorbed in the latest chapter of Shruti's novel.

As she read, her heart raced with each unexpected twist.

One moment she was gripping the edge of her bed in fear, and the next, she was stunned by shocking revelations.

Each turn in the story left her breathless, and she found herself rereading certain passages, struggling to process the intensity of the emotions unfolding on the pages.

I felt him before I saw him.

The air grew thick with tension, and a chill ran down my spine. My heels clicked against the cobblestones as I quickened my pace, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I wasn't alone. I never was, not anymore.

There was a softness to the steps behind me—too quiet, too controlled. He was getting closer.

I spun around, heart hammering against my ribcage. The street was empty, the shadows swallowing everything. But I knew. I knew he was there, just out of sight, waiting.

"Who are you?" My voice sounded calm, too calm, even to my ears. I reached for the gun tucked beneath my coat, fingers brushing the cold steel.

No response. Just the steady, rhythmic sound of his footsteps approaching.

Then, he stepped into the faint light from a streetlamp, and I froze.

There was no mistaking him now.

His silhouette was tall, broad-shouldered, and familiar. But it was the face that made my breath catch in my throat.

He stepped closer, his features becoming clearer in the dim light. I would have recognized him anywhere. Him. The man I buried two years ago. The man I loved. The man I thought I'd lost forever.