She turned again, facing the sky, letting the rain kiss her face.
And he… couldn't stop staring.
There was something about the way her eyes closed, her lashes wet, her smile so unfiltered — like she belonged to this world in a way he never had before.
Without even realizing, he stepped closer.
Just… one small step.
Then another.
She spun around again — playful, free — and bumped into him.
It wasn't dramatic. Not some movie fall.
Just a soft thud. Barely anything.
But suddenly…
They were close.
Too close.
His hands instinctively steadied her shoulders.
Her hands had landed on his chest.
And for a second, neither of them moved.
He looked down at her — truly looked. Her eyes still half-closed, breath soft from spinning, hair stuck to her forehead. Water droplets trailed down the side of her cheek.
He was aware of everything.
How close her face was.
How small her hands felt against him.
How he could feel the heat of her even through the rain.
She blinked up at him, finally realizing how little space was between them.
But she didn't move.
Not immediately.
She just stood there… chest rising and falling gently… eyes locking with his.
Something shifted.
He didn't speak. He didn't smile.
Because this moment — this exact second — felt fragile.
If he moved, it would vanish.
If he spoke, it might break.
Please don't step back, he thought.
Because for the first time since he landed in Karachi… he wasn't acting.
His heartbeat echoed in his ears.
She was looking up at him now — confused at first, but not afraid. Not uncomfortable.
She didn't tease.
Didn't laugh.
Didn't even blink too fast.
Instead, she whispered, so softly — "You're staring again."
He didn't deny it.
Didn't even try.
"I know."
A pause.
"You're not moving either," he added quietly, almost like a confession.
She hesitated for half a heartbeat.
Then whispered, just as gently:
"I know."
His breath caught.
And that's when he realized…
She wasn't pulling away.
She wasn't pushing him away.
And for a second, everything faded — the rain, the cold, the noise — until it was just them.
Just this.
Just her.
Just now.
But then—
"YA ALLAH Y/N UNNI!! DON'T MELT IN THE RAIN! BOTH OF YOU COME BACK OR AMMI WILL COME WITH A CHAPPAL!!"
Eman's voice shot through the silence like lightning.
Y/N blinked — startled, eyes wide like a kid caught stealing mangoes.
He laughed softly, the magic snapping but not breaking.
They stepped back gently, both trying not to look too flustered.
"I guess that's our warning," she mumbled, adjusting her dupatta.
Kim Bum gave her a small, knowing smile. "Lucky we survived."
She turned to run back first, her voice echoing through the hall as she yelled, "We're coming, EMAN! Don't call Ammi!"
He watched her retreating form, heart still racing.
Because even if the rain stopped…
The storm she left inside him had only just begun.
Back inside, the rain had stopped, but the weight in his chest hadn't.
Just one week.
One more week in Karachi.
One more week in this house.
One more week with her.
He sighed, running a hand through his still-damp hair and leaned back against the cushion.
And just then—
She walked in.
Wearing a deep blue Patiala suit, gold embroidery catching the morning light. Her hair was brushed out, still slightly wavy from the rain, and she looked…
Beautiful.
No effort. No drama. Just her — soft, warm, real.
"Here. Eat, Mr. Actor," she said, placing the plate in front of him.
He blinked.
"Breakfast served by a fan… I'm spoiled," he mumbled, eyeing the paratha, omelet, and chutney.
She rolled her eyes. "Fan service ends after breakfast. Don't test your luck."
They both started eating in quiet peace — the kind of peace that felt earned. Comfortable. Familiar.
Now and then, they spoke — small jokes, a little teasing about the rain, about his 'long dramatic stares'. She flicked a piece of paratha at him when he denied it, and he pretended to be deeply wounded.
But every now and then…
He sighed.
Not loudly. Just enough for her to notice.
She glanced sideways at him. "Something on your mind, Mr. Actor?"
He looked at her, then back at his plate. "Just… can't believe I only have one week left here."
That made her pause. Just a second.
Then she smiled, but her voice was soft. "Time flies, doesn't it?"
He nodded, not saying more.
Once breakfast was over, she stood, brushing crumbs off her dupatta and grabbing her bag. "Alright. I'm going to university now. See you in the evening."
He looked up too fast. "Is it necessary to go?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
He pouted.
Actually pouted.
Lower lip out, eyes wide, like a sulking toddler.
Y/N burst into a laugh. "What happened, Mr. Actor?"
"I only have one week…" he mumbled. "I want to spend time with you…"
She shook her head, still laughing. "Mr. Actor, I'm your fan. But it seems like… you're my fan?"
His reply came instantly, in the most dramatic, whiny tone. "Hmmmm…"
She laughed again. "Alright, Mr. Actor. As it's your last week here… you can have whatever you want this week."
His eyes lit up like a child handed candy. "Really?"
"Bonus week," she nodded, turning toward the door.
But just as she reached it, he was already up.
He reached out, gently took her wrist, and pulled her a little closer.
Their faces weren't too near.
But close enough for her heart to skip.
His voice dropped low.
"Little fox… don't regret it."
She didn't even blink. "I won't."
And with that, she left — the door clicking shut behind her.
Kim Bum sighed again, dramatically throwing himself back onto the floor cushion like a lead actor in a 200-episode drama.
He stared at the ceiling and muttered to himself:
"Aishhh… what am I going to do when this is over?"
He turned his head, still lying flat, and added under his breath—
"How did a fan become the hardest goodbye of my life?"
He exhaled again, long and heavy.
"…I'm so doomed."
In class – 2:23 PM
Y/N was taking notes with half focus, the heat making the lecture feel longer than it was. The fan overhead squeaked with every turn. Her head was low until—
Buzz.
Buzz.
Her phone lit up.
Mr. Actor: "How long, little fox? I'm bored 😭"
She smirked. Of course he'd message now.
Y/N: "In class. Will be home at 5."
Mr. Actor: "That's too long 😩"
She chuckled silently and typed quickly,
Y/N: "Mr. Actor, talk with Eman then. I'm studying."
A pause.
Buzz.
Mr. Actor: "Don't regret."
Her brows furrowed.
"What?" she muttered.
She typed back instantly:
Y/N: "What do you mean?"
But then—nothing. He stopped replying.
She put her phone face-down and tried to focus, shaking her head. Drama king.
---
Meanwhile, at her house
Kim Bum was stretched out lazily on the floor cushion again, holding her phone in his hand — specifically, her second Instagram account, which Eman had sneakily told him about.
He wasn't following anyone. Not a single soul. But today? He was stalking.
He scrolled through reels — mostly edits made by her, soft aesthetics, drama quotes, fan posts.
And then he paused.
One video caught his eye. It wasn't her face — just Pinterest photos and drama shots.
The first slide:
"I love these dialogues."
The second: his photo.
His drama photo.
With the words written across:
"They say obsession is dangerous… but then you smile… and I say let it kill me."
He stared at it longer than he expected.
He didn't blink. He just smirked. Slowly. Darkly.
Then — without thinking — he reposted it to his Instagram story.
No caption.
No context.
Except the message he typed in small cursive under it:
"Dangerous? Then don't smile like that, little fox."
🦊❓🔥
---
Back in class – 2:41 PM
Y/N's phone started buzzing. Hard. Repeatedly.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Buzz. Buzz.
Ping.
She sighed. Probably Eman sending memes.
She lazily flipped the phone over to check.
What she saw nearly made her scream.
Kim Bum's Instagram story
with her edit
her dialogue
and his caption.
Her body straightened like a rod.
She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
A few students turned to look at her.
One classmate whispered, "Are you okay?"
Y/N slowly… slowly… sat back into her seat. Face red. Completely red. Ears too.
She opened her phone and typed furiously:
Y/N: "YOU. WHY. WHAT IS THIS. I'M IN CLASS!"
No response.
He saw it. Left her on read.
And somewhere back at home, Kim Bum refreshed his own story again.
Seeing the flood of confused fan DMs like:
"Who's the little fox??"
"Is this a line from a drama?"
"WHO SMILED? WHO KILLED YOU??"
"Sir? Are you okay?!"
He laughed like a villain on vacation.
"Aish… this is fun."