Its my maths exam todayyy and I'm hell stressed like I hate that subject to my core.  I find it intresting but it's not my thing like why should I solve it's problems. I have my own problems to deal with but whatever I'm stressed so I did everything except studying and now I know I'm hell worked up I've gotta complete 16 chapters in 3 hours

But still here's an update!!enjoyyy

How many of you hate maths???

Happy reading 🎆

The morning of the wedding arrived with a golden glow, wrapping the venue in a magical haze. The estate shimmered with elegance—white and gold drapes swayed in the gentle breeze, the scent of fresh mogra and roses filled the air, and the soft sound of shehnai played in the background.

The guests had started arriving, their laughter and chatter blending with the wedding preparations. Every corner of the venue screamed royalty—a perfect Indian wedding.

And amidst the grandeur, Samiksha moved like clockwork.

She greeted the guests, helped the caterers with last-minute details, ensured the bride's jewelry was in place, and even held back the urge to roll her eyes at the chaos of it all.

If something needed to be done, people turned to her. If someone needed assistance, they found her.

Always smiling, always calm, always “perfect.”

But nobody noticed the exhaustion in her eyes.

Nobody noticed how heavy it felt to always be the responsible one.

And most of all, nobody noticed that deep inside, she was somewhere else.

She was helping an elderly couple settle down when a familiar voice rang through the crowd.

"Samiksha beta, you’ve grown so much! But tell me, what are you doing these days?"

She barely had time to answer when another voice cut in—light, teasing, but sharp enough to sting.

"Oh, she must be preparing for NEET or MBA like Avya and Vidyut! Maheshwari kids always go for the best, no?"

Her body went rigid.

She forced a polite smile, but her mind had already spiraled into the past.

Growing up as the youngest Maheshwari sibling was never as easy as people assumed.

Everyone thought she was the pampered princess of the house—the one who always got what she wanted.

But that was far from the truth.

Avya, the ambitious MBA graduate.

Vidyut, the future doctor.

And then there was her.

Her parents loved her, but their love had expectations.

"Score well, and we will be proud."

"Choose the right career, and you’ll make us happy."

"Be like Avya and Vidyut."

Nobody ever asked what she wanted.

So she built her own dream. In secret.

She became a writer. A storyteller. A creator of worlds.

But nobody knew.

Because it wouldn’t be enough.

Not for her family.

Not for their expectations.

Not for the world that always measured success in degrees and salaries.

So she stayed silent.

She smiled and nodded when people assumed she was preparing for a “real” career.

She let them believe whatever they wanted.

Because it was easier than hearing them say—“Is that even a profession?”

---

Back to Reality

"Samiksha?"

A voice pulled her back to the present.

She blinked and turned—only to find Abeer's mom standing there.

" Woh betu, Abeer abhi Tak utha nahi hai and Vidyut is out for some work while Aarohi is on her periods so 'maut se kon khel sakta hai hehe ' so beta please could you go in Abeer's room and wake him up because it's very late still kya karu main iss ladke ka"

Samiksha hesitated a bit before nodding her head meekly " Ji aunty I'll do it."

His mother flashed a warm smile towards her.

---

The Maheshwari estate was alive with the buzz of wedding festivities. The entire house shimmered under the golden morning sun, adorned with marigold garlands and fairy lights. The scent of fresh flowers and sandalwood incense filled the air as guests moved about, laughter and chatter echoing through the halls. Amidst the lively chaos, Samiksha found herself standing outside Abeer's room, mentally cursing her fate. Out of all the people in the house, why was she the one sent to wake him up? She could have asked a servant. She could have asked Avya. Hell, she could have let him sleep all day and miss the entire wedding. But no, his mother had specifically told her, "Beta, tum jao, Abeer ko utha do." She groaned internally.

( A/n so here the thing is that some of you might ask me that if she loves him then why she is behaving like this now. So let me explain it very clearly that ofc she loves him like she breathes  but her love is so pure that she don't want to ruin it, she is not sure if he loves her back or not. And in this case she doesn't want to ruin her majestic feeling for him. Hope you get it 😭🌷)

Huffing in frustration, she knocked on his door. Once. Twice. Five times. Fifteen times. Still no response. Her annoyance quickly turned into concern. Was he okay? Had he fallen off the bed and hit his head? What if he was unconscious? Her heart skipped a beat as she knocked louder.

"Abeer, open the door!" she called, pressing her ear against the wooden panel. Nothing.

Her mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. What if something had happened? What if he needed help? With a frustrated sigh, she hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open.

And what she saw made her regret everything.

Abeer lay sprawled on the bed, shirtless, his bare torso rising and falling in steady breaths. The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow on his skin. His messy hair fell over his forehead, his jawline sharp even in sleep. He looked... unfairly attractive. Her throat went dry, and she clenched her fists, mentally scolding herself for noticing.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers twitched, reaching into her pocket. Her phone screen lit up.

And then, as if possessed by sheer stupidity—

Click.

The sound of the camera shutter sent a shockwave of reality through her.

Oh. My. God.

Had she just—had she just taken a picture of Abeer in his sleep?! Panic surged through her veins. What the hell was wrong with her? Before she could process her own insanity, she shoved the phone into her pocket and tried to wake him up.

"Abeer?" she called from a safe distance. Nothing.

"Abeer, uth jao!" she tried again, but he didn't even stir.

She hesitated. She really, really didn't want to touch him. But at this point, what choice did she have? Taking a deep breath, she very reluctantly reached out to tap his shoulder.

The next second, a strong hand shot up, gripped her wrist, and yanked her onto the bed.

A shocked gasp left her lips as she landed dangerously close to him. Their bodies almost touching, her breath tangling with his, her heart pounding like a drum. His face was inches away, his warm breath fanning over her skin as he mumbled something in his sleep, his hand firmly resting on her waist.

Her entire body froze.

His fingers absentmindedly traced lazy patterns on her bare waist, sending a shiver down her spine. She could not breathe.

And then, as if things weren’t already bad enough, he nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

Her eyes widened in pure panic. Was he—was he about to—?

And then—he stopped.

A sharp inhale.

His body stiffened.

His eyes snapped open.

And his entire world collapsed.

He stared at her, blinking rapidly, horrified.

"WHAT THE F—"

Before he could finish, he jerked away from her as if he had been electrocuted.

"Samiksha?" His voice cracked.

"Uh… hi," she muttered, completely flustered.

He looked around frantically, as if trying to piece reality together.

"Wait—were you here this whole time?!"

"…Yes."

"No, no, no—please tell me this is a nightmare."

"It's not."

Abeer looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

"Oh. My. God," he groaned, running his hands through his hair. "No, no, no—what the hell was I just—no, NO!"

Samiksha sat up, watching him spiral.

"Listen, it’s okay," she tried to say, biting back a laugh.

"It’s NOT okay!" he groaned dramatically. "God, punish me for this! I—I didn’t mean to—I thought it was a dream! I never wanted to touch you like that! Or anyone like that! Oh, I am SO SORRY, Samiksha, please forgive me, I am the worst human—"

"Abeer."

"I mean, HOW could I just—wait, I was dreaming? Oh no. NO."

"Abeer, calm down. I said it's fine."

He blinked. "It's… fine?"

"Yes, it happens. No worries," she shrugged.

He exhaled, still looking traumatized.

And then, because Samiksha was a curious idiot, she blurted out, "Aap… k-kya sapna dekh rahe the?"

He stilled.

For a moment, he just stared at her.

Then, a slow smirk curled at the edges of his lips. "Bohot khoobsurat sapna tha," he murmured.

Her heart skipped. Her breath stuttered as she saw the way his gaze lingered.

His meaning was clear.

The dream had been about her.

And she… she didn’t know how to react. She managed a weak, "Oh."

The room suddenly felt too small. Her eyes betrayed her, flickering to his still-bare chest, and before she could fully check him out like he belonged to her, she quickly turned away.

"I should go!" she blurted.

But before she could escape, Abeer reached out and gently caught her wrist.

"Ruko."

His voice was soft.

She swallowed, not daring to look at him. "K-kya?"

"You talk to everyone," he said quietly, his thumb grazing her wrist. "But not to me."

She felt her pulse spike.

"So stay," he murmured. "Just for a little while."

Her breath hitched.

"Okay," she whispered.

But then—because she was a blushing mess—she quickly stammered, "P-pehle kuch pehno!"

Abeer blinked. Then realization hit him like a truck.

"FUCK."

He scrambled to his wardrobe, hastily yanking on a T-shirt. His movements were so clumsy and rushed that Samiksha couldn’t help but giggle.

When he finally returned, he made sure to sit at a safe distance from her on the bed.

And then—silence.

A silence that stretched between them.

Neither knew what to say.

But both of them knew… something had changed.

The silence between them was getting awkward. Abeer fidgeted slightly, staring at his hands before blurting out the most random thing possible.

"Uh… tumhari 9th percentage kitni thi?"

Samiksha blinked. What.

Was this man serious? She had just been accidentally cuddled by him, witnessed him have a whole panic attack about it, and now he wanted to discuss her 9th standard results?

Still, she sighed, deciding to play along. "Ninety percent."

"Oh."

Oh? That’s all? He asked a completely useless question, and his reaction was ‘oh’?

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Abeer, is this what I’m here for?"

He looked genuinely flustered. "Nahi—I mean, um…" He hesitated before actually continuing, "Aapko kal ke pakode kaise lage?"

…WHAT.

Situation ki behen ka pakoda—yeh kya question hai?

She narrowed her eyes. "Huh?"

"W-woh… actually, I don’t know how to talk to people. I’m sorry?"

She stared at him. No. This was a joke. HE didn’t know how to talk to people? Was he not a council member? Did he not participate in debates and discussions? Did he not casually talk to every single teacher in school? And here he was, claiming he had no social skills?

Was this man seriously real?

"Forget it," she muttered, deciding to take control of the conversation. "Except studying, what else do you like to do?"

Abeer tilted his head, thinking. "Uhm… to refresh my mind, I play football. And I sing… because music is my escape from chaos."

"Oh," she nodded, a little impressed.

"But," he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "there’s this one thing I really like to do. But I don’t think anyone would recognize it. And… you’re the first person I’m telling this to."

Her curiosity spiked. "What is it?"

He glanced at her, almost shy. "I… like reading."

She blinked. "Okay?"

"I mean, I read everything. But I also read fiction."

Oh.

Wait.

WAIT.

BOYS ALSO READ FICTION.

Her brain short-circuited.

OMG DOES HE KNOW ABOUT LYHFML?

DOES HE KNOW ABOUT MEADOWS, BABY?

HAS HE READ ALEX VOLKOV?

WHAT ABOUT DANTE RUSSOU—OH MY GOD—OR MARONI?

Before she could stop herself, she unleashed the beast inside her and asked everything in one single breath.

Abeer just… stared.

His soul left his body.

"Uh… my girl… calm down?" he said, looking genuinely alarmed.

But when he meekly nodded, she felt her entire world shift.

Abeer reads dark romance.

Holy. Shit.

A red hue dusted her cheeks. She had never imagined him reading those books.

But then, as if trying to explain himself, Abeer quickly added, "I-It’s not like I read dark romance! I uhm—I read it for the plot. Hehe."

She squinted. Yeah, right.

"But my favorite genre," he continued, "is feminist literature. And books where the guy heals the girl or the girl heals the guy. You know… the ones that show real men, not those ‘strip or crawl to me, baby’ types."

Her eyes widened.

"I mean, shit, that’s crap," he went on. "She’s not your servant. And when you love someone, you can’t say stuff like that while having sex—"

Samiksha choked on air.

Did he just—DID HE JUST CASUALLY TALK ABOUT SEX WITH HER???

She didn’t know whether to be amused or shocked.

And then—he realized what he just said.

His face turned red.

"Oh my God—I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to—shit—I shouldn’t have said that—please forget I exist—"

"Abeer."

"I mean, I was just—crap—I swear I didn’t—SHIT—"

"Abeer."

"FUCK—I’M SUCH AN IDIOT—"

"Abeer," she finally pressed her index finger to his lips.

He froze.

"Bas bas," she chuckled. "It’s okay. You didn’t say anything wrong."

His eyes flickered to hers. "Is it?"

She nodded, smiling. "You know… I never thought a guy would say something like that. But whatever you just said—it’s so correct. And actually… can I show you something?"

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What?"

Wordlessly, she pulled out her phone, scrolled to her Notes app, and clicked on something. Then, she turned the screen towards him.

Abeer frowned, scanning the words.

And then—his jaw dropped.

It was the exact same opinion he had just said.

Written by her.

"A year ago, I wrote all of this," she explained, "and it’s literally the same thing you just said."

He exhaled, his lips curving into a small, impressed smile. "Damn. We have the same taste."

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I guess we do."

There was a comfortable pause before she suddenly asked, "Wait—you’ve read Verity?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

Without missing a beat, they both blurted out at the same time—

"What truth was she manipulating?"

A second of stunned silence.

And then—they burst out laughing.

She clutched her stomach, tears in her eyes, while Abeer leaned back, chuckling uncontrollably.

It felt so natural. So easy.

And then—curious, she tilted her head. "So… who’s your favorite author?"

Abeer’s eyes lit up.

"There’s this author," he said, excitement creeping into his voice, "and the kind of books she writes? Oh my God. They’re so damn good. She’s my absolute favorite."

Samiksha’s breath hitched.

"The way she describes men," he continued, "the way she portrays emotions—it’s unbelievable. She’s my most favorite, and she always will be."

Her fingers gripped the fabric of her skirt.

"But," he sighed, "the problem is… nobody knows who she actually is."

Samiksha’s heart stopped.

Because

He.

Was.

Talking about her.

Holy. Shit.

_________________________________________________

Comments kardo babiesss 🌷😭

The men who reads>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I mean come on they are attractive.

I literally crave for them and I'm sure in future whoever I will date should love reading and maybe it's okay I know it's rare but atleast he should listen to my book yapssssss

(Thodi delulu me huu 😭😭😭)