" karu seena zori seena zori, tumhe hona ho manzur

phir dil ki chori, dil ki chori hai mera kya kusur

kya karu oh ladies

o o kya karu oh ladies mai hu aadat se majbur

o o kya karu oh ladies mai hu aadat se majbur

huzur huzur mai hu aadat se majbur

huzur huzur mai hu aadat se majbur

mai hu aadat se majbur, mai hu aadat se majbur!!"

In the middle of a grand, luxurious room stood a full-length mirror. In front of it stood Ashish Singh Chauhan — fully dressed and ready for school.

He was tall, about 5 feet 9 inches, with a well-built, athletic frame that spoke of strength and confidence. His presence was magnetic. His face carried that dangerously charming smile — the kind that could make any girl’s heart race in an instant. His thick, jet-black, silky hair fell slightly over his forehead, giving him an effortlessly stylish look. His eyes… deep, dark, and intense — like an endless ocean holding secrets within. There was a spark in them, a quiet fire that set him apart from everyone else.

Ashish let out a soft whistle, tilting his head slightly as he admired his reflection. He ran his fingers casually through his hair, setting it just right. Then, with a playful smirk, he winked at himself in the mirror and muttered in a teasing tone,

“How handsome Ashish! Uff… nazar naa lage tujhe.”

A dashing grin spread across his face. He adjusted his blazer, slipped one hand stylishly into his pocket, and took one last look at himself before turning away. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he moved swiftly toward the staircase and descended with confident strides.

As soon as he reached downstairs, his gaze automatically drifted toward the kitchen. His mother was busy working there. The moment he saw her, a warm, peaceful smile softened his face. Without hesitation, he almost ran into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind in a tight, loving hug.

In a cheerful, affectionate tone, he said,

“Good morning, Maa!”

Mrs. Kavita turned around with a radiant smile lighting up her face. She gently caressed his hair with pure love and replied in a tender voice,

“Good morning mera baccha! Chal ab jaldi se baith, main tere liye garma-garam nashta lagati hoon.”

Ashish smiled and walked over to the dining table, taking his seat. While waiting for his breakfast, he glanced around and asked,

“Papa kahan hain, Maa?”

Before his mother could answer, a loud, dramatic voice echoed from behind —

“Aapne bulaya aur hum chale aaye!”

Ashish turned around in surprise — and froze.

His father was walking out of the kitchen, holding a plate of waffles, and — unbelievably — wearing an apron tied around his waist.

Ashish’s eyes widened in shock. He looked his father up and down, then burst into laughter.

“Papa, aap? Aur cooking? Impossible!”

Kavita Ji tried to suppress her laughter as she set the plates on the table. Meanwhile, his father stood there proudly, smiling with confidence. He walked closer, wrapped his arm around Kavita Ji from the side, and joked affectionately,

“Arey kyun nahi? Aaj hum apni ‘ardhangini’ ji ki madad jo kar rahe the…”

Ashish sat quietly, watching the beautiful bond between his parents. His expression softened. His eyes held deep respect, love, and admiration for them. A gentle smile appeared on his lips.

Then suddenly — his gaze fell on his wristwatch. His eyes widened in horror.

“Oh shit! Main late ho raha hoon!”

In that moment, he was no longer the cool, stylish boy from the mirror. He quickly gulped down his waffles, jumped up from his chair, and rushed to hug both his parents tightly once again. Dashing toward the door, he shouted while running out —

“Bye, lovebirds!”

His parents stood there, smiling fondly as they watched him leave.

Outside, Ashish grabbed his bike, put on his helmet, and with one powerful kick, started the engine. In a split second, he sped off toward his destination — school — disappearing down the road.

Ashish glanced at his wristwatch—it was 7:50.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he twisted the accelerator, his bike slicing through the evening air.

The road ahead stretched lazily, almost empty, and he took a sharp turn toward the side street, unaware of what awaited him.

His helmet muffled the world around him.

Just then—a small child darted across the road.

Time froze.

The little girl saw the bike and stood rooted to the spot, her tiny feet refusing to move. Ashish’s heart slammed violently against his ribs.

Without thinking, he swerved hard, pushing the bike toward the other side of the road.

The sudden motion sent adrenaline rushing through his veins, his eyes widening in shock.

And then—

A figure appeared.

Feminine yet strong, swift yet steady.

She ran forward and scooped the child into her arms just in time, holding her close, shielding her with her own body. The girl buried her face into the woman’s chest, trembling.

Ashish slammed the brakes, the bike jerking forward before finally stopping.

The woman was Prachi Verma.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she cradled the child, whispering soft reassurances. Within seconds, the child’s parents rushed over, panic etched across their faces.

They thanked Prachi repeatedly, their voices thick with relief, before taking the child away.

Prachi straightened slowly.

Her eyes—cold, sharp, and unyielding—turned toward Ashish.

He had removed his helmet by then, messy hair falling onto his forehead, forcing him to brush it back awkwardly. For a fleeting moment, he forgot to breathe. Something about her presence—calm yet fierce—held him still.

She stood in front of him, her posture firm, hands clenched at her sides.

Ashish cleared his throat.

“Excuse me?”

Prachi’s gaze hardened.

“What excuse?” she snapped.

“Dikhta nahi hai tumhe? Speed kam nahi kar sakte the bike ki?”

Her words hit him harder than the sudden brake.

Ashish narrowed his eyes slightly as he placed the helmet back on the bike and stepped down, standing face-to-face with her now. His hands rested on his waist as he studied her expression—anger, concern, and something deeper beneath it.

A slow, unreadable smile curved his lips.

“Oh, hello. Ab tum mujhe bataogi that how i should ride the bike?!,” he spoke in furry and casual attitude, as if her fury amused him rather than intimidated him.

But beneath that calm exterior, something had shifted.

Because neither of them knew—

Prachi glared at him, her dark brown eyes flashing with fury like storm clouds ready to burst. "Isme batane wali baat hi kya hai? Woh toh tumhe pata honi chahiye na, Mr. Whoever! Aur jab bike chalani aati hi nahi hai, toh chalate kyun ho?!" she bit back sharply, her voice slicing through the tense air between them.

Ashish's jaw tightened as he glared right back, his chest heaving with barely contained anger. He fumed, stepping a fraction closer on the quiet roadside, the faint hum of distant traffic underscoring their standoff. "Dekho, ab zyada bol rahi ho tum! Aur hoti kon ho tum mujhe ye sab bolne wali? Apne kaam se matlab rakho na!" His words came out rough, laced with frustration, his hazel eyes narrowing dangerously.

Prachi scoffed, tossing her hair back defiantly, her heart pounding from the near-accident that had brought them here—the little girl she'd just saved from his reckless bike swerve. "Oh hello! Dekha nahi tumne? Agar main vakt pe nahi aati na, toh us bachi ke saath accident bhi ho sakta tha... woh bhi TUMHARI wajah se, samjhe?!" She fired back, pointing an accusing finger at his chest, her voice rising with righteous fire.

Ashish's lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes burned hotter. He leaned forward slowly, invading her personal space until the heat radiating from his body made the cool evening air feel electric. "Woh toh agar tum superwoman ki tarah udte hue nahi aati na, tab bhi woh pyari si phool jaisi bachi bach jaati," he shot back mockingly, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm, challenging her every inch.

Prachi's glare intensified, her cheeks flushing with a mix of rage and something she refused to name. "Zyada bano mat! Aur chup-chaap apni galti qubool kar lo, bolo sorry!"Ashish paused, looking at her dumbfounded for a split second, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "Par main tumhe kyun sorry bolun?!" He raised them higher, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the streetlight casting sharp shadows on his chiseled jaw.

Prachi smirked lightly, tilting her head with feigned sweetness that didn't reach her eyes. "Cause it was your fault, so say sorry na, Mr. Rakshas," she teased, her voice turning honeyed, though her pulse raced at how close they stood.

Ashish's smirk mirrored hers, darker and more dangerous. "Oh, agar aisi baat hai toh—" He leaned in even closer, stepping into her space until their faces were mere inches apart. Prachi felt the warmth of his breath ghosting over her lips, carrying the faint scent of mint and adrenaline.

Her eyes widened slightly, nerves flickering as she stared into his intense hazel gaze, which bored deep into her soul like he could unravel her secrets."W-ha—" Her words fumbled, stumbling out in a breathless whisper, her usual fire faltering under the weight of his proximity. Her heart hammered wildly, betraying her even as she tried to hold his stare.Ashish's hazel eyes locked onto her rich brown ones, unblinking, pulling her in.

With deliberate slowness, he reached up, tucking a loose strand of her silky hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, warm against her skin, before he leaned in further, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered huskily, "Tadapte raho mujhse sorry sunne ke liye. Kyunki Ashish Singh Chauhan na kabhi kisi se sorry kehta hai, na sorry bolne layak chhodta hai! Understood, hmm?"As he pulled back just enough, his thumb grazed her soft cheek lightly, a feather-soft touch that sent unwelcome shivers down her spine.

Prachi froze, her breath catching, the world narrowing to the spark between them—anger twisting into something dangerously electric.

Hearing his husky words still echoing in her ear, Prachi snapped her gaze up to meet his, her brown eyes glaring straight into his soul with unyielding fire. She wouldn't let him have the last word—not now, not ever.Ashish's smirk lightened as he stepped back slightly, giving her space, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement and a hint of surprise at her defiance.

But Prachi wasn't done. She looked at him with steely resolve, then closed the distance again, walking closer until the air between them crackled. Ashish's smirk faded slowly, confusion flickering across his face as he raised his brows, caught off guard by her boldness.

Undeterred, Prachi rose onto her tiptoes, her hands reaching up to grip his broad shoulders firmly—not backing down an inch. She leaned forward, her face now inches from his, turning the tables. A sly smirk curved her lips as she trailed her index finger along his sharp jawline, feeling the rough stubble under her touch.

Ashish gulped visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing, his confident facade cracking just a fraction under her unexpected audacity. Her touch sent a jolt through him, but he held still, pulse racing.

Leaning into his ear, she mirrored his husky whisper perfectly, her warm breath teasing his skin. "Sorry toh main bulwa kar rahungi, chahe uske liye mujhe kuch bhi karna pade, Mr. Ashish Singh Chauhan. One thing I'll let you know is, woh kya hai na... Prachi Verma ne kabhi haarna nahi seekha. Woh dusron ko harati hai. Understood, hmm?"With a playful flick, she sidled his chin, forcing his face to turn sideways, her smirk widening at the way his eyes widened in stunned retaliation.

She pulled back triumphantly, her heart pounding with victory, then turned on her heel and walked away—her hips swaying deliberately, a teasing sway that screamed challenge under the streetlights.

Ashish stood frozen for a beat, staring at her retreating figure, his teeth gritted in frustration. He fisted his hands at his sides, fuming as anger boiled in his veins—but then he forced a deep breath, calming the storm.

A slow, predatory smirk spread across his face as he muttered to himself in that deep, velvety voice, eyes locked on her silhouette. "You're playing with fire, Sweetheart... which isn't good for you. But—I like it. Let's see ye choti si shuruaat kis muqam tak le jaati hai humein! Be ready."With that, he swung a leg over his bike, revved the engine to life with a throaty roar, and sped off toward school, the night air whipping past as his mind raced with thoughts of their inevitable collision.