The silence stretched.
Aarav stood just inside her dorm room, tall and composed, while Meera's back pressed against the wall, every muscle trembling. He hadn't touched her. He hadn't raised his voice. But his presence filled the tiny space so completely that it was hard to breathe.
Finally, she managed a whisper. "You can't just come in here."
"I already did," he replied calmly.
Her throat tightened. "That's not the point."
He stepped closer, not threatening, but deliberate, controlled. "Then what is?"
Meera's chest heaved. "Boundaries, Malhotra. Privacy. Ever heard of those?"
His gaze softened, though his words didn't. "Privacy is a luxury I can't afford with you. Because every time you're out of sight, I don't know if you're safe. I don't know if someone else is trying to take what's mine."
Her stomach flipped. His tone wasn't loud, but the weight behind it made her shiver.
"You don't own me," she whispered.
"Not yet," he said again, and it was scarier the second time.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Aarav's eyes flicked to her desk, where her laptop sat half-shut. He walked over, fingers brushing the lid.
Meera's breath caught. "Don't."
"I already know what's inside," he said quietly. "I just wanted to see if you'd try to hide it from me."
Her pulse raced. "You have no right—"
"I don't need rights with you," he interrupted softly. "Only reasons. And I always have one."
The casual certainty in his voice made her dizzy.
He finally sat on the chair by her desk, as though he had every right to be there. For a moment, he was silent
watching her pace the room like a caged bird. Then he said, "You're exhausted. Sit."
"No," she snapped.
His eyes narrowed slightly. Not angry. Just unamused. "Meera."
She froze at the sound of her name, the quiet command in his voice. Against her better judgment, her legs moved. She sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed tight.
"Good," he murmured, leaning back in the chair. "You're easier to watch when you're not moving."
Her chest constricted. "You hear yourself, right? You sound insane."
His lips curved faintly. "I've accepted that."
The minutes crawled. He didn't leave. He didn't demand. He just sat there, studying her with the patience of someone who could outwait the sun itself.
Finally, Meera blurted, "Why me?"
Aarav tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"You could have anyone. You're smart, rich, terrifyingly confident. Why waste all that on… me?"
For the first time, his composure faltered. His eyes softened, his voice dropping lower. "Because you don't treat me like them. You don't pretend I'm perfect. You laugh at me. You challenge me. You make me… real."
Her chest ached at the honesty in his tone. For a terrifying second, she almost forgot the fear. Almost forgot the folder of stolen photos, the locker note, the constant shadow.
Then she shook her head quickly. "That's not love, Aarav. That's obsession."
His gaze held hers. "Maybe. But obsession keeps you alive. Love doesn't."
The clock ticked past midnight. Meera finally stood, wrapping her arms around herself. "You should go."
Aarav didn't argue. He rose slowly, buttoning his blazer with deliberate precision.
But when he reached the door, he paused. "Sleep, Meera. Eat breakfast tomorrow. And don't stay in the lab past 9 again. The night guard doesn't watch that corridor properly."
Her stomach dropped. "How do you—"
"I notice," he said simply, opening the door.
Then he was gone, leaving her in silence.
Meera collapsed onto the bed, pressing her hands to her face.
She hated him. She feared him.
And yet, the thought of never seeing him again made her chest ache in ways she couldn't admit.
That was the real trap.
Not his presence.
But her own unwillingness to escape it.