The cold night stretched across the mountains, wrapping Shimla in its quiet, haunting beauty. The sky was painted in deep shades of navy blue - only the pale silver moon casting faint light on the deserted roads.
The air still carried the tension of the collision - as if the mountains themselves were holding onto that unsaid storm between two strangers.
---
Amaira's heart was still hammering against her chest as she sat inside Ruby Baby - Riya's ancient, coughing little car.
Her hazel eyes flicked towards the rearview mirror... half-expecting to see those burning honey-brown eyes chasing after her.
But the road behind them was empty.
Silent.
Yet somehow... she could still feel him.
His presence lingered - dark, dangerous... like invisible chains wrapped around her lungs.
"What the hell was that?" Riya's panicked voice snapped her out of her spiral.
Amaira blinked.
"What?"
Riya's eyes widened like she had seen a ghost.
"That man! Oh my God, Amaira... he looked like one of those cold-blooded villains from Netflix shows! I thought he was going to bury us both in this jungle."
Amaira swallowed the strange flutter rising in her chest.
Villain.
The word echoed inside her mind.
She should have been scared.
Hell... anyone with a brain would have been.
But all she could remember was the way his eyes had flicked towards her - like she had somehow managed to spark something inside him.
Something dangerous.
Something... forbidden.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Amaira leaned back, forcing nonchalance into her voice.
Riya's jaw dropped.
"Oh, don't you dare act like you didn't notice how hot he was! That man could commit a crime, and the whole police department would still thank him for existing."
Amaira rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck.
Hot?
No.
He was the devil in a designer coat - wrapped in power and dipped in sin.
And the worst part?
He knew it.
The car wobbled down the narrow roads, climbing higher towards the city.
Amaira's mind should have been thinking about the scratch... or how to survive without selling both her kidneys if that man ever tracked them down.
But all she could think about was the way his breath had brushed against her lips.
Careful, princess...
God.
Why the hell did his voice sound like midnight sins whispered against bare skin?
After what felt like hours, the car finally rattled to a stop in front of the Malhotra Mansion.
Amaira let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding.
---
Shimla's cold breeze whispered through the narrow streets - carrying stories of old secrets... and new beginnings.
Amaira Malhotra leaned against the wall of her room, arms crossed, staring at the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.
Her mind replayed the evening's collision - those piercing honey brown eyes... that dangerously calm voice.
Who the hell does he think he is?
Her jaw clenched, irritation bubbling under her skin.
That man - whoever he was - had the audacity to look at her like she was... beneath him. Like she was some delicate little doll not worth his time.
Princess.
The word echoed in her mind, making her blood boil.
If there was one thing Amaira hated - it was arrogance.
Yet...
A small, annoying part of her brain refused to shut up.
His face. His voice. His scent.
He smelled like danger wrapped in expensive cologne - the kind of danger that made your heart race without permission.
But whatever.
He was an asshole.
A ridiculously hot asshole... but still an asshole.
"Amaira, dinner is ready!"
Her mother's voice broke her thoughts from downstairs.
Amaira groaned, dragging herself to the dining room.
The warm golden lights filled the space - everything perfectly in place, just like her mother always kept it.
Her father, Rishi Malhotra, sat at the head of the table, flipping through the newspaper - his sharp features calm but distant, like always.
He was a man who carried power in his silence - a businessman whose name held weight in Shimla... and far beyond.
But Amaira?
She had no idea just how deep her family's roots ran.
Or how many secrets were buried beneath the Malhotra name.
As soon as she sat down, her mother began her daily routine - fussing over her like she was still five years old.
"You didn't even eat properly in the morning... Look at you, Amaira. You're getting thinner day by day!"
Amaira rolled her eyes dramatically, stuffing a bite of Paratha in her mouth.
"Maa, please... don't start your daily emotional drama."
Her mother shot her a fake glare, but the soft smile playing at her lips gave her away.
Rishi Malhotra glanced up from his newspaper - his sharp eyes observing everything without saying much.
That's how her father always was - calm... composed... unreadable.
But tonight... there was something else in those eyes.
A flicker of tension.
A shadow.
Amaira didn't notice it - too busy bickering with her mother over the amount of ghee in the parathas.
After dinner, she retreated back to her room, she went to bed without knowing...
That the man she had met on that deserted road...
The man she hated at first sight...
Was the same man her father had been preparing to fight against for years.
The night stretched on - cold, quiet, and heavy with secrets.
Amaira tossed and turned, sleep nowhere near.
Her mind was still stuck on those honey brown eyes... that stupid arrogant smirk...
Why was he still stuck in her head?!
Ughh!
"Idiot," she muttered to herself, flipping onto her stomach.
Outside, the wind howled through the mountains - carrying whispers no one could hear.
Amaira had no idea...
That the shadows outside her window weren't just shadows.
That somewhere far away in an isolated mansion...
A pair of honey brown eyes were staring into the darkness - thinking about a certain girl with hazel eyes and a death wish.
Because once Reyansh Singhania set his eyes on something...
He never forgot.
And he never let go.
---
Some enemies are made by fate.
Some a
re made by choice.
But the most dangerous ones?
They're made by desire.
The story had only just begun.
And the mountains... were already holding their breath.
.....
To Be Continued...
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