Chapter 2: Anniversaries and Unscripted Fates

A day ago was our one-year anniversary.

The date circled in my diary with a red pen—yes, I keep a diary, don’t laugh. I’d bought a rose and wore that blue-checked shirt she loved.

I’d been wanting to sleep with her for ages.

I’d dropped hints, sent cheesy texts, even joked after exams, but she always blushed and changed the topic. Her old-school values made me respect her and want her more.

If Priya wasn’t so conservative, I’d have tried to get close on day one.

In our college, things moved fast—hand-holding by week two, meeting parents by month three. But with her, even holding hands was a ceremony.

It’s not that I’m some creep—she’s just too beautiful, exuding charm in every moment.

Her laughter, the way she fixed her earrings, the way she ate samosa—everything was attractive, and sometimes, maddening.

Kissing, hugging, touching her slender waist—it wasn’t enough anymore.

I craved more—her warmth, her softness, the way she whispered my name like a secret.

With ulterior motives, I opened a Sula red for our candlelight dinner.

We sat on the floor, bedsheet spread, paneer tikka and cheese garlic naan on steel plates. I poured wine into steel tumblers—the glass ones had all broken in hostel life.

Two glasses in, I was tipsy and bold.

Cheeks warm, I finally said things I’d only thought before.

I grinned, pulled her onto my lap, held her waist, and kissed her swan-like neck.

Her skin smelled of rosewater and sandalwood—a fragrance that lingered long after she left.

"Baby, let me tell you a secret," I whispered, trying to sound filmy.

She smiled, nose crinkling. "What secret?"

I leaned to her ear: "First time I saw you, I wanted to kiss you till you cried."

She blushed, pinched my waist, laughing. "If you ignored my face, would you still like me and chase after me?"

Her tone was teasing, but her eyes searched for something deeper.

I cupped her face, touched the beauty mark at her eye’s corner, and teased, "No."

That beauty spot was the first thing I noticed. A tiny dot that made her unforgettable.

Next second, Priya, embarrassed and annoyed, pressed on my shoulders and bit my neck—hard.

She always acted shy, but she had a wild side hiding under all those rules.

I gasped in pain, begging mercy. "Baby, it hurts! I was wrong!"

I laughed between the protests. She giggled too, eyes shining.

Her bite became a kiss, then she soothingly licked the mark.

She pressed her lips to my skin, gentle now, her breath tickling. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth in.

Looking up, her brows were drawn, voice aggrieved: "So you really fell for me because of my looks."

She looked so vulnerable, like she wanted to believe otherwise but couldn’t.

"If you met someone prettier, would you like someone else?"

Her voice was small, almost like a secret fear.

I quickly denied it. "No way, I like you the most. Only you."

I brushed a stray hair from her forehead, hoping she’d believe me.

While coaxing her, my hands wandered under her clothes.

My fingers traced her back, her skin goosebumping at my touch. She shivered, half-laughing, half-protesting.

I whispered, "Baby, I want to see..."

I paused, making my intentions clear but giving her space to say no. My heartbeat thundered.

She held my hand, gaze playful. "See what?"

Her tone was teasing, but her grip was strong, warning me to go slow.

I said nothing, lifted her onto the table, my hands sliding up her fair, slender legs.

She gasped, her salwar brushing my fingers at her ankle. My mind buzzed with anticipation.

"Baby, you’re so beautiful."

I meant it—her beauty was like a Raja Ravi Varma painting.

Her breathing grew heavier. She pressed my hand, voice soft: "Arjun, don’t tease me."

I nearly lost my resolve, but her trusting eyes made me pause. I just held her close.

I pressed her foot to my abs. "Then, baby, do you want to tease me?"

Her foot was cold, but her cheeks burned. The room shrank, outside noise faded.

Priya looked at her foot, shy, unmoving.

Time stretched. I could hear a distant rickshaw horn. Still, she hesitated.

I felt frustrated, pulled down her skirt, about to lift her off the table.

A lump in my throat, I tried to hide my disappointment.

But suddenly she clamped her legs around my waist. "Arjun, you want to run now? Too late."

Her voice was half-laugh, half-command. For a second, I forgot everything else.