The party was in full swing, a dazzling display of energy and celebration. The venue, bathed in warm golden light, pulsed with laughter, music, and the occasional clink of glasses.

The scent of expensive cologne, aged whiskey, and a hint of floral perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of gourmet appetizers being passed around by waiters in crisp suits.

It was one of those nights where time seemed to slow in the best way possible—where every conversation carried the thrill of familiarity, and every moment felt like it could stretch on forever.

The Indian cricket team was scattered across the room, their laughter echoing over the music. Hardik stood with his wife, an arm lazily draped over her shoulder as they exchanged teasing remarks with Ishan, who was already a few drinks in and grinning at something funny Axar had said.

In another corner, Virat was locked in a heated yet playful argument with Rohit, the two of them gesturing animatedly over what seemed to be a completely unnecessary debate about technique.

Tara, however, remained on the outskirts.

She didn’t mind. She never had.

With a glass of champagne in her hand, she leaned slightly against the bar, watching the festivities unfold before her. The people, the conversations, the easy camaraderie—it was something she appreciated but never quite felt a part of.

And then, as if the air shifted, she felt it.

A gaze. Intense. Unrelenting.

She turned slightly, her breath catching when she met a familiar pair of dark eyes.

Shubman.

He was leaning against the bar on the other side of the room, his fingers resting loosely around a glass of something dark and smooth. His white dress shirt fit him effortlessly, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the sharp definition of his forearms.

The top buttons were undone, showing a teasing hint of collarbone and skin, and his hair—slightly tousled, like he had run his fingers through it one too many times—was a perfect mess.

Tara felt her pulse quicken.

The room was buzzing with conversation, but in that moment, everything else faded.

The way the dim lighting highlighted the angles of his face, the sharp cut of his jawline, the flicker of amusement in his eyes—it was unfair.

And what was worse? The way he was looking at her.

There was something unreadable in his expression, something that made her stomach twist into a knot she wasn’t sure she wanted to untangle.

For a second, neither of them moved. Neither of them looked away.

It was a dangerous game, this silent exchange.

Then, just as quickly as it began, Tara broke the moment, turning away with an exhale she hadn’t realized she was holding.

But Shubman? He didn’t stop looking.

His grip on his drink tightened, jaw clenching slightly as he let out a slow breath.

There was something about her that unraveled him.

She wasn’t like the women who usually turned heads at parties—dressed to command attention, eager to be noticed. No, Tara had an effortless kind of elegance, the kind that didn’t beg for admiration but received it anyway.

The way her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder, how the soft lighting caught on the delicate line of her jaw, the subtle arch of her brows—it was intoxicating.

But it wasn’t just her beauty.

It was the quiet strength in her gaze, the way she seemed both present and elsewhere, as if her mind was always dancing between the past and the present.

She fascinated him.

And that—more than anything—was dangerous.

Just then, he noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor.

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, her posture stiffening ever so slightly. She blinked once, twice, as if shaking off a thought she didn’t want.

Then, she turned abruptly, slipping away from the crowd and disappearing into the shadows near a side hallway.

Shubman frowned.

Something wasn’t right.

“Everything okay?”

He turned to find Rishabh standing next to him, raising an eyebrow.

Shubman hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just… making sure she’s alright.”

Rishabh’s gaze flickered toward where Tara had gone, then back to Shubman, something knowing in his eyes. “You’ve been looking at her all night,” he mused, sipping his drink.

Shubman exhaled, shaking his head. “It’s not like that.”

Rishabh snorted. “Yeah? Then why do you look like you’re about to follow her?”

Shubman didn’t answer.

Instead, without another word, he placed his drink down and walked toward the hallway where Tara had disappeared.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Shubman found her standing near a window, her arms lightly wrapped around herself as she gazed out at the city lights.

He slowed his steps, hesitating for a moment before softly calling out, “Tara?”

She turned, slightly startled, but her expression remained unreadable. “Shubman,” she acknowledged, her voice steady.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Then, Tara sighed, shifting her weight. “I needed some air,” she murmured. “The party was… a lot.”

Shubman nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah. It can be.”

Another pause.

She glanced at him, her lips parting slightly, as if she wanted to say something—but then she shook her head. “Did you need something?”

Shubman hesitated, then offered her a small smirk. “Yeah, actually.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

He extended his hand toward her. “A dance.”

Tara blinked. “A what?”

Shubman chuckled. “You heard me. A dance.”

She stared at him like he had grown another head. “Gill, there’s literally no music here.”

“There’s music playing inside,” he countered easily, tilting his head back toward the party. “We can hear it just fine.”

Tara scoffed. “That is such a bad excuse.”

Shubman merely grinned. “Maybe. But it’s a good distraction.”

Tara narrowed her eyes at him. “A distraction from what?”

Shubman shrugged. “From whatever thoughts are keeping you from enjoying the night.”

Her breath hitched slightly. He saw right through her.

But before she could protest, he took a small step forward, gently reaching for her hand.

“Come on, Tara,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Just one dance.”

Tara hesitated, but something in his eyes made her relent.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Just one.”

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Shubman’s fingers found the small of Tara’s back, warm and steady, guiding her effortlessly into the slow rhythm of the distant music.

His other hand remained laced with hers, their palms pressed together, his touch sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

Tara swallowed, suddenly all too aware of the space—or lack thereof—between them.

She hadn’t realized how close they were until now.

His grip was firm yet gentle, as if he was afraid she might slip away if he wasn’t careful. But the truth was, she felt rooted in place, unable to move even if she wanted to.

Her free hand rested lightly on his shoulder, fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of his crisp white shirt. Beneath the thin material, she could feel the quiet strength of his muscles, the heat radiating from his skin.

She curled her fingers slightly, catching herself before she could hold on tighter.

It wasn’t supposed to feel this natural.

And yet, it did.

The world around them blurred into nothing, the distant hum of conversation fading as their movements synchronized. Step after step, sway after sway—until it was no longer a dance, but something else entirely.

Something unspoken.

Something dangerous.

Shubman wasn’t sure when he had stopped thinking about the music.

All he could focus on was her.

The way her dark lashes fluttered when she blinked, the way her lips parted slightly when she concentrated on their steps, the way she fit against him so effortlessly—like she had always belonged there.

He had danced with women before. But this? This wasn’t just dancing. This was breathing.

And for the first time in days, he felt like he could.

Tara let out a quiet exhale, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. “You’re a good dancer,” she murmured, her voice softer than before.

Shubman smirked, the corner of his lips lifting just enough to make her heart stutter. “Surprised?”

“A little,” she admitted, amusement flickering in her gaze. “I figured all your talent was reserved for cricket.”

His smirk widened. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”

Tara shook her head, her eyes betraying the ghost of a smile. But before she could respond, something shifted.

The air changed.

The teasing dissolved into something heavier, something neither of them had prepared for.

Because suddenly—

They weren’t just dancing anymore.

They had stopped moving entirely.

They were standing still.

Staring at each other.

And leaning in.

Tara’s breath faltered, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

Shubman’s grip on her waist tightened—just slightly—but enough for her to feel it.

Too close.

Too close again.

And this time, she didn’t know if she could stop it.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the heat between them unbearable.

Shubman’s gaze flickered to her lips.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Just long enough for her to notice.

Her pulse quickened.

He was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek, close enough that if either of them leaned in just a little more—

Her fingers tightened on his shoulder.

His hand at her waist curled slightly, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress.

Her heart wasn’t just pounding anymore—it was screaming.

She needed to step away.

She needed to say something—anything.

But she didn’t.

Neither did he.

And the worst part?

For a fleeting moment, she didn’t want to.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

But before she could—

The moment shattered.

The uneasiness returned.

Her stomach twisted suddenly, a wave of nausea washing over her.

The world had stopped.

For a few fleeting seconds, nothing had existed beyond the way Shubman’s fingers rested gently against the curve of Tara’s waist, the warmth of his palm pressed into hers, the slow, intoxicating rhythm of their dance.

And then—

It broke.

A sharp, suffocating feeling clawed its way up her chest, wrapping around her throat like a vice.

It wasn’t from the way Shubman’s dark eyes flickered down to her lips.

It wasn’t from the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, as if he was anchoring himself in the moment.

It wasn’t from the way her body swayed instinctively toward his, the space between them shrinking, her breath hitching in anticipation of something inevitable.

No.

It was from something else entirely.

It was the feeling of something wrong.

Something that had been buried, only to resurface when she least expected it.

Matt.

The name slammed into her like a wrecking ball, shattering every fragile piece of composure she had left.

The memories came like a flood—his voice, his touch, his betrayal.

Her stomach twisted violently.

Her pulse quickened, but not from the almost-kiss.

From him.

From everything.

The ghost of his absence still lingered, woven into the very fabric of her being, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he had left a permanent mark on her.

She needed to get out.

Away from the music, away from the warmth of Shubman’s touch, away from him.

“Tara?”

Shubman’s voice was softer now, concerned.

She barely heard him.

Her hands trembled slightly against his shirt.

She shook her head, taking a quick, uneven step back. “I—I need to—”

Her voice cracked.

Before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Fast.

Maybe too fast.

Shubman hesitated for a split second—long enough to see the way her shoulders had stiffened, the way her hands had curled into fists at her sides.

And then, without another thought, he followed.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Tara barely registered the journey from the party to her hotel room.

The hallway blurred past her, but the memories in her mind remained excruciatingly sharp.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the door handle, gripping it with the same desperation she had once clung to Matt’s promises.

Promises that had turned into lies.

Promises that had left her stranded in a place where love had become nothing more than an illusion.

Her breath shuddered.

And then—

A warm hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Tara.”

Her heart stopped.

She turned sharply, her glassy eyes locking onto Shubman’s.

He had followed her.

He had chased after her.

She should tell him to leave.

She should tell him she was fine.

She should tell him she didn’t need his concern.

But none of those things would be true.

So instead, the only thing that fell from her lips was the truth.

“I—It’s Matt.”

The second the name left her mouth, she regretted it.

Shubman’s expression darkened.

His fingers tensed against her wrist, though his grip remained gentle, careful.

There was something dangerous in his gaze now. Something sharp.

Something angry.

But not at her.

Never at her.

And still—he didn’t let her go.

Instead, he did the only thing he could.

He stepped closer.

And then—

He pulled her into his arms.

Tara stiffened at first, her body rigid.

She wasn’t used to this.

Wasn’t used to someone staying.

Wasn’t used to someone holding her together when she was falling apart.

But Shubman didn’t let go.

His arms remained steady, strong, unwavering, as if he wasn’t just holding her.

He was catching her.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, but the second she felt his warmth, his heartbeat against her cheek, she broke.

A choked sob escaped her throat, her hands clenching into the fabric of his shirt.

Shubman exhaled slowly, his chin brushing lightly against her hair.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, Tara.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back the emotions surging through her.

But it was too much.

The heartbreak.

The pain.

The weight of the past that refused to let her go.

“Why is this happening to me?” she whispered, her voice cracking under the pressure of everything she had been holding in.

Shubman closed his eyes.

He hated this.

Hated that she was still suffering because of a man who had never deserved her.

Hated that no matter what he did, he couldn’t erase her pain.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands coming up to gently cradle her face.

Tara blinked up at him, her eyes wet, her lips trembling.

And suddenly, it hit him.

The way she looked at him.

Like he was safe.

Like he was the only thing keeping her from breaking completely.

His thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away a tear before it could fall.

“It’s happening because he wasn’t enough for you,” he said, his voice steady, certain. “Because he couldn’t see what he had. Because he didn’t deserve you, Tara.”

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

And then—

Without thinking, without hesitation—

She threw her arms around him.

The hug was tight.

Desperate.

Raw.

Shubman didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her just as fiercely, pressing her closer until he could feel every shaky breath against his chest.

For a long moment, they just stood there.

Two people caught in a storm they weren’t sure how to escape.

But for the first time in a long time, Tara wasn’t standing in the storm alone.

Shubman was there.

Holding her.

Grounding her.

And for the first time—

She let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry this pain on her own anymore.