SECRETLY MARRIED ENEMIES

After a bit of teasing and pulling his leg, I stepped out of the room, leaving him to get dressed—finally.

God, he takes more time than a girl. And that's saying something.

"Jaldi aaoooo!" I called from the stairs, half-laughing.

["Hurry upppp!" I called from the stairs, half-laughing.]

Just then, the door creaked open behind me—and I turned to see him. Wet hair falling messily over his forehead. The towel was gone, replaced with a black T-shirt. My heart skipped a beat.
I swear, I wanted to kiss him. Right then. Right there. Push him against the wall and just...

But no.

I had promised myself not  to make the first move.

"Wait," he said, his voice low—like he didn't want to break the silence around us. "Tumhare baal pe kuch laga hai."

["Wait," he said, his voice low—like he didn't want to break the silence around us. "There's something on your hair."]

Before I could even react, he leaned in.

Closer.

So close that I could literally count the tiny flecks of brown in his eyes. His fingers brushed a strand of my hair gently, and my breath got stuck somewhere in my throat. His face was right there—mere inches away. My heart? Beating like it was auditioning for a drum solo.

I don't know what got into me.

Maybe it was the silence.
Maybe it was him.
Maybe it was me... finally losing it.

But out of nowhere, I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and blurted, "Can I kiss you?"

Silence.

He blinked.

And then...

He leaned in closer.

Oh god.

Oh god.

His lips were so close, I could feel his breath on mine. I was just about to tilt my face up, just about to kiss him—

And my brain decided to reboot.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING??

I instantly pulled back like I'd touched an electric wire. "Mera matlab tha... mujhe kiss nahi... kishmish  khaani thi! You know naa I love dry fruits?"

[I instantly pulled back like I'd touched an electric wire. "I meant... I wanted to eat not a kiss but a raisin! You know I love dry fruits, right?"]

The silence that followed could've swallowed me whole.

He stared at me. One brow raised. Smirking.

"Liar," he said, softly.

I scowled, heart still thumping in my ears. "I hate you."

He chuckled, stepping back with that stupidly perfect smirk.
"Cute liar."

Instead, I walked up to him, booped his nose, giggled, and ran away. "Dum hai toh pakad ke dikhao!" I shouted playfully over my shoulder.

["If you've got the guts, then catch me!" I shouted playfully over my shoulder.]

He didn't even hesitate.
I heard the thump of his footsteps as he chased me down the stairs.

But then—I stopped.

Dead in my tracks.

Because standing right there at the base of the staircase was his father—Papa.