Heer~THE UNWANTED DAUGHTER

~•Dahi shakkar•~

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Adhoori thi zara si Main poori ho rahi hoon Teri saadagi mein hoke choor Bann ke titli dil uda uda uda hai Kahin door
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  Author POV
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The sound of bouncing balls and squeaking sneakers faded into the background as the basketball practice ended. Priyanshi stayed behind, walking toward the adjoining baseball court where a few players from her team were gathered. The late evening sun streamed through the mesh, painting golden streaks on the dusty floor. She laughed at something a teammate said, brushing her hair back from her forehead.

One of the boys leaned closer, smiling as he talked. Before she could even react, his hand lifted - fingers brushing a stray strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

Priyanshi froze. Her stomach knotted. The easy laugh on her lips died immediately. Something about the touch felt too personal, too wrong. She stepped back, discomfort flickering across her face, her mouth opening to call him out-

But she didn't have to.

A voice cut through the low chatter like a blade.

"Touch her again," Rihaan's voice was low, sharp, and dangerous, "and I swear you won't be using that hand for a week."

The entire court went silent. Even the lazy bounce of a ball somewhere near the bleachers stilled. Rihaan stood a few feet away, eyes like dark embers locked on the boy, his jaw tight enough to crack.

The guy blinked, stuttering something under his breath, and backed away without another word. He muttered an excuse and slipped out of the court like a shadow.

Priyanshi's pulse raced in her throat. Anger and something else-something she refused to name-burned beneath her skin. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, she glared at him.

"What the hell is your problem?" she snapped, her voice sharp though it trembled. "You don't own me! I can solve my problems on my own."

Rihaan stepped closer. He wasn't shouting. He didn't need to. His voice dropped to a husky, deadly calm that made her skin prickle.

"Maybe not," he said, each word deliberate. "But that doesn't mean I'll stand there and watch you let random idiots touch what's mine."

Her breath caught.
"I'm not yours!" she hissed, though the words came out more desperate than defiant.

He smirked, a dark, knowing curl of his lips, his gaze never leaving hers.
"Keep saying that, sweetheart," he murmured. "Maybe someday you'll start believing it."

He leaned closer, enough for her to smell the faint scent of sweat and his cologne, enough for his shadow to fall over hers. His next words were a whisper, dangerous and intimate at once:

"Don't test me, fireball. You can lie all you want, say you hate me..." his eyes flickered down to her parted lips, then back to her eyes, "...but we both know what happens every time I get too close."

Her heartbeat roared in her ears. She hated that he was right - hated that her anger was already softening into something raw, unspoken, magnetic.

"You're impossible," she whispered, barely audible.

His half-smile darkened, his eyes soft but intense.
"And you're mine," he said softly, "whether you admit it or not."

She tried to move past him, but he shifted, blocking her way without even touching her. His tone dropped lower, almost a growl.