The night air was heavy with the scent of rain. Outside Ishan's window, the garden lamps cast silver halos on the wet grass, and somewhere far off, a dog barked once before the silence swallowed it whole. Ishan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his hands resting over his chest.
Every breath felt louder than it should. He had been replaying Amina's eyes in his head—how they had looked when she'd seen him that morning. Calm. Too calm. Like she had already decided something about him and was waiting for him to catch up.
His phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. A single message lit the screen:
*Meet me. Now.*
It was from Amina.
He slipped from bed without turning on the light, pulling on his hoodie and stepping into the hall. The Royce family estate was quiet except for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs. He didn't bother with the front door—Amina had once shown him the side gate near the conservatory, the one the guards rarely checked after midnight.
She was already there, leaning against the ivy-covered wall. Her hair was loose tonight, falling in dark waves over her pale sweater, and the moonlight made her skin look like porcelain.
"You came," she said softly, her voice carrying just enough warmth to make him forget the chill in the air.
"You texted," Ishan replied. "What's going on?"
For a moment, she didn't answer. She studied him the way someone studies a locked safe—knowing there's something inside but unsure how to open it. Then she stepped closer, until the faintest scent of jasmine reached him.
"I don't like surprises," she said. "Especially when I'm supposed to spend my life with someone. And right now, you're a walking surprise."
Ishan smirked faintly. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I say that because it makes me… curious." Her eyes didn't leave his. "You don't talk much. You don't brag. But the way people look at you… it's like they're waiting for you to do something impossible."
He swallowed, feeling the heat of her presence far more than he should. "And what do you want me to do, Amina?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached up and brushed something from his hair—her fingertips lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"I want to know the real you," she said finally. "Before our parents make us strangers in matching rings."
Her words landed heavier than she probably intended. Ishan had never thought of their engagement as a cage—until now.
They walked together under the dim garden lights, neither speaking for a while. The rain had started again, just a mist at first, cool against their skin. She didn't pull away when his hand brushed hers. In fact, she hooked her pinky through his in a silent, almost childish gesture that somehow felt more intimate than holding hands.
"I heard what happened at the academy," she said suddenly, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. "That boy—Cole—didn't just fall, did he?"
Ishan's steps slowed. "You hear a lot for someone who doesn't like surprises."
"I hear enough to know you're not just another prodigy with good grades," she said. "And I'm not afraid to find out the rest."
They stopped beneath an arch of roses. Even wet from the rain, their scent was rich and intoxicating. The space between them felt charged, like the world was daring him to close it.
And then she did something unexpected—she leaned in, close enough that he could feel the whisper of her breath on his jaw. "If you're going to keep secrets from everyone else, fine. But don't keep them from me."
The temptation to close that last inch between them was almost unbearable. But Ishan knew this was a game of patience—one he couldn't afford to lose.
"I'll tell you when the time's right," he murmured.
Her lips curved in a half-smile that was equal parts satisfaction and warning. "Just don't make me wait too long."
Before he could respond, a rustle came from the hedge to their left. It was quick, sharp—too heavy for the wind. Amina stiffened, but Ishan's eyes darted toward the sound.
"Stay here," he whispered.
But she didn't. She followed as he moved toward the noise, her hand brushing against his arm. The hedge opened into a narrow path that ran behind the estate, and there, barely visible in the shadows, a man in a dark coat stood watching them.
Ishan's heart slammed once against his ribs. The man didn't move—he just stood there, a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers, the ember burning brighter each time he inhaled.
Then, without a word, the stranger turned and walked into the darkness.
Amina's voice was tight. "Who was that?"
Ishan didn't answer. Not yet.
Because he knew the answer—and it wasn't one she would sleep well knowing.