Dressed in an off-white shirt paired with black chinos, Ishan briefly scanned his surroundings, recognizing a few faces while most were unfamiliar to him. The party was progressing smoothly.

A hand landed on Ishan's shoulder, and he turned to find a smiling Abhishek, a fellow artist. "Hi, Ishan!" Abhishek beamed, pulling him into a friendly hug. Ishan hesitated for a moment before returning the hug. The bitterness he thought he'd buried stirred briefly, a reminder of how easily he had blamed Abhishek. But the resentment soon turned into guilt. "It's been so long," Abhishek said, breaking the hug.

Abhishek was more than just a fellow artist to him, they had been friends for as long as he could remember. Unfortunately, it was Abhishek who had introduced Mayank to him. Mayank, who initially worked for Abhishek as an art agent, later started working for Ishan, leading to a series of events that left scars Ishan was still healing from.

"I heard you're collaborating with Malhotra Enterprises," Abhishek said curiously.

"Yeah, that's right," Ishan replied.

Abhishek's face brightened. "Me too," he gushed. "They roped me in last week."

Ishan hadn't known that. He smiled genuinely before saying, "Congratulations."

Ishan had developed bitterness towards Abhishek when Mayank left him. He knew deep down that Abhishek had nothing to do with it, but he needed someone to blame, and Abhishek was an easy target since he had introduced them.As time passed and the sadness subsided, Ishan realized how childish it was to blame Abhishek for something that wasn't his fault.

As they chatted, Ishan felt a prickling sensation on his neck, as if someone was watching him. He looked around the room, but all he saw were people with polite smiles, chatting and clinking drinks. Was he being paranoid? He thought so.

______

Ishan sat on one of the bar stools, facing away from the counter at the far end. He wasn't here to drink, just to sit quietly, in his own company, observing his surroundings. He had more self-control now and didn't come here to get wasted. Instead, he wanted to feel normal again, to reclaim his old self. It would take time, but he was determined.

Someone took the stool beside him. Ishan didn't bother to look, probably just another guest here for a drink. But he again felt a prickling sensation creeping up his spine, a gaze lingering on him a little too long. A familiar fragrance filled his nostrils. He turned to his left to look, and there he was: Shubman, with his over-the-top charming aura. Dressed in a satin black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a few buttons undone, and two perfect strands of hair resting on his forehead, a slightly mischievous smile played on his lips. It seemed like Ishan was looking at a model of a high-end luxury brand.

Ishan wasn't shocked to see Shubman. Though he didn't know what Shubman actually did, he had definitely expected him to attend such a networking party. One thing Ishan had figured out from his previous encounter with Shubman was that he was definitely in business.

But Ishan didn't let it show that he wasn't surprised and had kind of expected (or hoped) this encounter at the party. With slightly raised eyebrows, he asked, "You?"

From the sly smile playing on Shubman's lips, it turned a little genuine, as if he was pleased to be recognized by the object of his interest, if we put it lightly.

"So you haven't forgotten me?" he said, trying to be a little sarcastic.

"How can one forget their stalker?" Ishan replied, calm but firm. He was in no mood to let Shubman get under his skin, at least not visibly.

"Stalker?" Shubman said, a frown appearing and disappearing as quickly. "That doesn't sound nice."

Ishan didn't say anything for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch longer than necessary as he studied Shubman's features. From the sharp line of his jaw to those infuriatingly perfect lips, up to his nose, and then finally, those extra-expressive eyes. Damn those eyes. They were both infuriating and hypnotizing, a combination that made Ishan want to either punch him or.......no, just punch him.

"Stalking someone isn't nice either," Ishan said rather nonchalantly, while subtly shifting his gaze and looking ahead of him because he couldn't risk looking longer into those eyes.

Shubman turned his stool slightly to grab a drink. He swirled the contents in the glass, took a small sip, and set it back on the counter. Ishan watched all this from the corner of his eye. Of course he did because Shubman was one of those people you couldn't ignore, no matter how much you wanted to.

Shubman turned again towards him. "You're looking stunning," he complimented. Ishan darted his gaze back towards him and found that the taller one's eyes were warm and his lips curled into a slight, pleasant smile. But Ishan didn't want to let his guard down, not even for a second. "There are plenty of people present here who would die to get that compliment from you," Ishan shot back with sass. "Not me though."

Shubman let out a low chuckle. He was enjoying the fact that he was getting Ishan's undivided attention.

Now Ishan started to think that he might need a drink or two to get through this. Shubman, who was very much unbothered by anything, kept gazing at him. Ishan turned again in Shubman's direction. "You..." At this moment, Ishan realized that he didn't know the name of this taller man who had been annoying him for the past few days.

"Shubman," Shubman provided his name.

"Shubman," Ishan repeated, and Shubman realized that he was one of those few people who could say his name with a soft "b" sound and not butcher it brutally into a harsh "Shubh-man."

For a moment, Shubman just savored the sound of his name coming from Ishan's mouth. Ishan was saying something, but Shubman was distracted now.

______

"It's flat," Shubman said, motioning towards the deflated tire of Ishan's car, and Ishan shot him a disappointed look. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. The party was still very much in swing, so it's not like he could ask for a lift from anyone. The only person he could ask for help was Shubman, but Ishan would rather walk on fire than ask for help from Shubman, so he wasn't going to do that. Ignoring Shubman, he whisked out his phone to book a cab, but luck wasn't on his side.

After multiple failed attempts to book a cab, he shoved his phone into his pocket and let out a frustrated sigh. "I shouldn't have come in the first place," he muttered to himself.

"You know, I wouldn't mind giving you ride," Shubman said smugly as always.

"But I would," Ishan snapped, turning around to face Shubman, who was enjoying his misery. Seeing him all worked up just because Shubman offered to drop him home. "I'd rather walk barefoot than be in a car with you."

Shubman leaned casually against the side of the car, crossing his arms. "Really?" he said, feigning surprise. "I'm just trying to help. But if you'd prefer to walk, then who am I to stop you? Just don't say I didn't offer."

The idea of accepting a ride from Shubman wasn't pleasing, but the thought of trekking home in the dark was even worse. He could practically feel Shubman's eyes on him, waiting for him to relent.

"You really are enjoying this, aren't you?" Ishan said, his voice low with barely contained irritation.

Shubman's smile widened. "Oh, maybe."

Ishan briefly considered his other options, which were none, so with a sigh, he walked towards Shubman's car and, with a curt tone, said, "Fine." He opened the passenger seat and, before sitting, glared at Shubman. "But I swear to God, if you try to annoy me, then-"

"Relax," Shubman said, raising his hand in mock surrender. "I'm not going to eat you, Chill."

Against his better judgment, Ishan was now reluctantly sitting in the passenger seat of Shubman's Mercedes, his arms crossed, looking out of the window and not sparing a single glance at Shubman. On the other hand, Shubman's eyes were solely on Ishan. How he was still safely driving the car was a mystery.

They didn't talk the whole drive, but when the car halted to a stop in front of Shubman's mansion, Ishan's head snapped in Shubman's direction, and his eyebrows quirked up as if silently saying, 'Are you kidding me?'

Shubman leaned back in his seat and stretched his hands. "I'm tired. Can't drive anymore," he said, blinking lazily to put on an Oscar-worthy show of how tired he was, but Ishan wasn't buying it.

Ishan wanted to say something snarky, but he bit back his tongue and, in a calm tone, asked, "Don't you have drivers?"

"I do," Shubman said, "but I don't want to bother them at this hour of the night."

Ishan tightened his jaw, he knew that Shubman was trying to get under his nerves by playing his little mind games, trying to draw out some reaction. He glanced around and saw a plethora of cars in the garage, which looked like a showroom of luxury vehicles.

"All these are yours?" Ishan asked, knowing the obvious answer.

"Yeah," Shubman replied a bit proudly, looking toward all the expensive cars in his possession.

"Can I borrow one of these?" Ishan asked casually, as all he wanted to do was go to his apartment or just get away from Shubman, who was doing everything to prevent him from doing so.

Shubman tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, feigning thoughtfulness. "I don't like anyone else driving my cars." Who was he kidding? He would give all the cars to Ishan in a heartbeat if only it weren't to keep Ishan around him for a little longer. So a bit of acting wouldn't hurt, right?

Ishan straightened and shot a disapproving look at Shubman. He then got out of the car and tried booking a cab again, but to no avail.

"I wouldn't mind if you spent the night here," Shubman's voice was dripping with generosity, as if he were doing Ishan the biggest favor. The look on Shubman's face screamed: 'See, I am doing you another favor by letting you spend the night here. You should thank me.'

Ishan was in the mood for anything but to thank him, but what choice did he actually have? Going home alone wasn't a practical solution given the distance and his tiredness. No matter how much he didn't want to be here, he was left with no other option-all thanks to the six-foot-tall, smug-looking man who staged the whole situation.

"You did that deliberately, didn't you?" Ishan accused him. "Your intention wasn't to take me home but to bring me here." Before Shubman could reply, Ishan continued, "Now I wonder if the flat tire of my car was your conspiracy as well."

Shubman tilted his head, not denying Ishan's accusation at all. "It's not like you haven't spent the night here before."

Hearing this, heat crept up his neck. He remembered the last time he was in Shubman's mansion, not to mention the car incident that left him speechless.

Shubman turned on his heel, hoping that Ishan would follow- what other choices did he have left for Ishan?

~~~