I should have walked away.
I should have disappeared into the Bangalore crowd, caught a cab, and gone home.
But Vihaan?
Vihaan Malhotra wasn't the type to let things go.
And fate?
Fate wasn't finished ruining me yet.
The station was chaos.
People rushing in every direction.
Announcements blaring. Taxi drivers yelling for passengers.
I blended into the crowd, gripping my bag, heart still racing from what just happened.
I just needed to get away.
Away from him.
Away from the way his hands had felt against me.
Away from the way his grin had messed with my head.
But before I could take another step—
A voice.
His voice.
"Hey—wait."
Oh, no.
I kept walking.
Faster.
Maybe if I ignored him—he'd let me go.
Maybe if I pretended—he'd move on.
But Vihaan?
Vihaan never let things go.
A warm hand wrapped around my wrist.
Firm. Unwavering.
I froze.
Because of course he followed me.
Of course he didn't let me go that easily.
I exhaled sharply, turning around.
And there he was.
Still grinning.
Still too close.
Still looking at me like this was just another normal morning.
I clenched my jaw. "What?"
Vihaan tilted his head.
"Damn, man. No 'thank you for saving my life' or anything?"
…What.
I stared at him.
He smirked. "I mean, I did just break your fall back there."
I inhaled slowly.
Then—flatly:
"You fell on me."
Vihaan shrugged. "Exactly. What would you have done without me?"
I groaned.
Pulled my wrist out of his grip. (Tried to. Failed.)
And that was the moment I made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
Because for the first time since I had seen him from a distance all those years ago—
Vihaan was looking right at me.
Not past me.
Not through me.
At me.
And I?
I didn't know how to handle it.