“Pehle se zyada quietly move karna padega,” Arjun ne finally bola. Uski awaaz mein charm nahi, calculation tha. “Koi hero banne ka plan nahi. Bas observe, verify, phir act.”
Rohan ne nod kiya. “Main route aur gate timings cross-check karunga. Old maintenance logs mil jaayein toh van ka pattern pakad sakte hain.”
“Main terrace se neeche service lane ka angle dekh leta hoon,” Kabir bola. “Agar koi outside connection hai, toh entry-exit mein gap hoga.”
Imran ne message ko dobara fold karke apni palm mein band kar liya. “Aur agar key drain cap ke neeche hai, toh kisi ne campus ko pehle se map
Arjun had barely shut the door before Naina leaned back against it, trapping him in the narrow strip of warm yellow light that spilled from the corridor into the room. The fan hummed above them, slow and lazy, as if even it knew better than to rush this. For one suspended second, they only looked at each other—his shirt half-buttoned, her hair falling loose over one shoulder, both of them wearing that same reckless, knowing smile that meant they had already crossed every sensible line hours ago.
“Tum hamesha aise hi late respond karte ho?” Naina asked, voice light, but her eyes were doing something far less innocent.
Arjun’s laugh came low in his throat. “Aur tum hamesha aise hi complain karti ho, ya sirf jab mujhe taangna hota hai?”
She pushed off the door and came closer, slow enough to make him feel every step. “Maybe I like seeing you guilty.”
“Guilty?” He caught her wrist gently when she reached for the open collar of his shirt. “Naina, tum mujhe dangerous level tak distract kar rahi ho.”
“Achha?” she murmured, fingers sliding up to his jaw instead, tilting his face toward hers. “Then prove it.”
That was all it took. Arjun’s hand settled at her waist, steady and sure, pulling her in until the air between them vanished. The kiss that followed was not soft, not careful, and certainly not patient. It had the heat of all the things they never said in daylight, all the teasing that had been circling them for weeks, all the midnight messages and stolen glances and nearly-touching moments that had been building to this.
Naina made a small sound against his mouth, half surprise, half surrender, and that was enough to undo the last of his restraint. Her hands slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him smile into the kiss before he deepened it again, pressing her back until the edge of the desk touched the back of her knees. A notebook slipped off with a soft thud, then another. Neither of them bothered to look.
“Arjun,” she breathed, breaking away only long enough to catch air.
“Haan?”
Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, lips parted like she’d forgotten whatever she was about to say. “You’re impossible.”
He rested his forehead against hers, both of them smiling now, both of them breathing too fast. “And you’re still here.”
That was the answer. That was always the answer.
The room seemed smaller all of a sudden, filled with the rustle of fabric, the soft scrape of the chair being nudged aside, the quick pulse of wanting that made every movement feel charged. Arjun kissed the side of her neck, and Naina’s fingers tightened at his shoulders, her laugh turning into a shaky exhale as he guided them toward the bed, the world outside the door dissolving into a blur of distant hostel noise and forgotten schedules.
When the light finally seemed too bright, the fan too loud, and their breathing too uneven to pretend they were still only teasing, Arjun reached up and switched off the lamp. The room fell into shadow, and with it, everything else went deliciously quiet..