Shobhana's POV

Time flies—scratch that—time freaking sprints when life gets busy. It's been a month since I left India, a month, since I last, saw Shubman, and a month since I was introduced to the perpetual chaos of New York.

Not that I hate it here. I love my job at Vogue, and NYC is as dreamy as people say. But let's be honest—time zones suck. It's 5:00 AM in India while I'm sitting here at 8:50 PM, finishing up work as my loved ones back home snooze peacefully.

On top of that, I'm going to be an aunt soon. That news has me grinning like an idiot every time I think about it.

"Girl, get your sexy butt up! We're hitting the club tonight!" Susan, my roommate, and self-appointed chaos coordinator, burst into my room. 

Her energy levels could rival a toddler on a sugar high.

"Seriously?" I raised an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

"Yup! You work hard, now it's time to party harder!" she declared, twirling dramatically before vanishing to her room.

"Fine, fine," I sighed, rifling through my wardrobe. I picked through the outfits we'd splurged on during our last shopping spree when my phone buzzed.

Shubman's sleepy face appeared on my screen. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes were still half-closed.

"Babe, isn't it like 5 AM there?" I asked, smiling at how adorable he looked.

"Yeah, I know," he yawned, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to pick an outfit. We're going clubbing," I replied, angling the camera toward the mess of clothes on my bed.

"Turn the phone around," he instructed. "Let me see."

I propped my phone up, giving him a full view of my options. "What about that black dress with the slit?" he suggested, his voice dropping into that sexy, low tone he used when he was trying to tease me.

I picked it up, holding it against me. It was sleek, figure-hugging, with a thigh-high slit that screamed "trouble."

"Damn," he muttered, blinking a little more awake. "You'll kill me, Shobi."

I laughed. "Stop being dramatic. You can't even see me in person."

"That's the problem!" he groaned. "I miss you so much. You've no idea how many times I've imagined pulling you into a dark corner and—"

"Whoa, whoa, okay, sleepy boy," I cut him off, cheeks heating. "Save your daydreams for when we're in the same time zone."

He smirked lazily. "You better send me pictures, babe."

"Fine," I relented. "Now go back to bed before you pass out mid-flirt."

"Love you," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

"Love you too," I replied, ending the call with a smile.

Just then, Susan waltzed into my room, looking at me like she'd caught me red-handed.

"Woah, someone please turn on the AC in here! That was steamy!" she fanned herself dramatically.

"Stop eavesdropping!" I laughed, chucking a pillow at her.

Half an hour later, we were in the car, heading to the club. I had decided on the black dress, pairing it with silver heels and minimal jewellery. 

Susan had opted for a red jumpsuit that made her look like she'd just stepped off a runway.

At the club, the neon lights and pulsing music engulfed us. Susan and James—her longtime boyfriend—dove straight into the dance floor chaos. 

I opted for a quieter corner with a Coke in hand.

James plopped down next to me a while later, pointing toward a guy across the room. "Hey, that dude looks like your type."

I barely glanced at the guy before rolling my eyes. "Dude, nah."

"Why not?" Susan joined in, nudging me. "You've been single forever."

"Okay, fine. I need to tell you guys something," I said, setting my drink down.

They both leaned in dramatically.

"I have a boyfriend."

"What?!" they yelled simultaneously, drawing stares from nearby tables.

"I'm serious," I laughed, scrolling through my gallery. "Here."

I showed them a picture of Shubman, looking effortlessly handsome in a casual selfie.

James gawked. "Oh damn, I might turn gay for this guy."

"Excuse me?" Susan stared daggers at him.

I burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Okay, time to get you two home before this turns into a soap opera."

Back at the apartment, I ended up half-carrying a tipsy Susan to her bed while she muttered nonsense about how unfair it was that my boyfriend was hotter than hers.

As I tucked her in, I sighed. God, what a night.

And just as I collapsed onto my own bed, my phone buzzed with a message from Shubman:

"You better send those pictures before I dream about you in that dress all night. 😉"

God help me, this man.