Meera hadn't slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt it again — the burn of his mouth on hers, the steady grip at her waist, the terrifying calm with which he had taken what he wanted. She told herself it was anger, not the echo of his touch that kept her awake. But in the silence of her dorm room, she couldn't tell the difference anymore.
By morning, she plastered on a smile for Priya and dragged herself to class, telling herself she'd pretend it hadn't happened. She could bury it under sarcasm. She could keep her world intact.
But then she walked into the lecture hall.
And saw him.
Aarav sat in her seat — their seat now, the one he had stolen weeks ago. Except this time, he wasn't pretending. His blazer hung casually over the chair beside him. A silent placeholder. For her.
Students turned to look. Whispered. Curious eyes followed her across the room.
Meera's pulse spiked. No. Not here. Not like this.
She tried to head for another row, but his voice cut through the chatter. Calm. Certain. Unarguable.
"Meera," he said.
The room stilled. Heads turned.
Every syllable wrapped around her name like it belonged to him alone.
Her steps faltered. "I… I'll sit somewhere else—"
"You won't." He didn't raise his voice, but it carried, smooth and final. "This is your seat."
A ripple of whispers spread through the class. Some smiled knowingly, some looked confused, but no one missed the weight in his tone.
Heat rushed to Meera's cheeks. "You can't just—"
"Yes, I can." Aarav leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable, as if daring her to defy him in front of everyone. "Sit."
It wasn't a request.
Meera stood frozen, the world tilting. Every instinct screamed at her to rebel, to laugh it off, to prove she wasn't owned. But the silence pressing in was unbearable. Everyone was watching. And her legs — traitorous, trembling — carried her forward.
She slid into the seat beside him, stiff as stone.
The whispers grew louder.
"Are they…?"
"Since when?"
"I knew it."
Her fingers clenched around her pen. She couldn't look at him, couldn't look at anyone.
But Aarav didn't smirk. Didn't gloat. He just sat there, steady, like the outcome had always been inevitable. His arm brushed against hers, deliberate, a small reminder that he was closer than air.
Class began. The professor droned on about statutes and case studies. Meera barely heard a word. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
And then, halfway through, Aarav leaned in. Close enough that only she could hear.
"See?" he murmured, calm as ever. "They already believe you're mine."
Her heart lurched.
Because he was right.
And she hadn't even denied it.
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