Ahsaas’s POV:

The room felt suffocating. I kept pacing, my bare feet dragging lightly over the cool marble, the quiet thap-thap echoing against the four walls. Advait had told me not to come downstairs.

Normally, I wouldn’t have. At this hour, I’d be buried in my books, half-lost in my notes, trying to squeeze sense out of endless pages. But the second he forbade me, curiosity bloomed inside me like wildfire.

Why? Why not go down? What was he hiding?

I told myself I could sneak—tiptoe quietly, peek once, then slip back up before anyone noticed. But then the thought made me snort softly. This was Advait. The man could recognize me by the sound of my footsteps, by the faintest shift of breath. If I so much as dared step on the last stair, he’d know. And then? He’d pin me down with that unreadable gaze of his, not even needing words to remind me I was caught.

So, waiting was the only option. Waiting and spiraling in my own head.