It was the kind of night that wrapped the city in secrets.

Rain fell in soft sheets outside, and Aashika's house stood unusually quiet. Her parents were away for a business trip, leaving her the house and a rare breath of peace. But peace wasn't what she craved tonight.

She stood by the window, arms crossed, hoodie sleeves covering her hands. The same black hoodie from college—the one he had draped over her shoulders under the peepal tree in the rain. She hadn't worn it in years. And now, it felt like armor.

Her phone buzzed.

Riaz "Outside."

She smiled.

Moments later, the front door creaked open, and in stepped the devil himself. Black shirt, drenched slightly from the rain, and a smirk that held storms.

"Your doorbell's broken," he said.

"My patience is broken," she replied, dragging him in by the wrist.

They laughed quietly like two criminals sneaking into memories.

They ended up in her room, familiar in its warmth and scent of jasmine. Childhood trophies still stood on her shelves. A faded photo of her with her parents at age ten. And somewhere in the back of her closet...

She moved quickly, searching.

He watched her from the bed, leaned back on his elbows. "You still keep everything in that chaos?"

She ignored him. Then—"Found it."

She turned around, holding a small velvet box.

And a folded letter.

She walked toward him and placed both in his hands.

"I wrote this for you the night before graduation. The bracelet was to go with it. You left too fast."

He said nothing, just unfolded the letter and read. His jaw tightened. His brows knit together like the words cut him deeper than bullets ever could.

Then he opened the box.

Inside: a simple silver bracelet, elegant and understated.

He looked up at her.

"You bought this for me?"

"It took me weeks of saving. Back then, I didn't even know if you'd like silver. I just wanted you to remember me."

Riaz stood and walked to her. Held her gaze. Then, wordlessly, he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.

The click echoed like a promise.

He lifted her chin with two fingers. "Now you can't run."

Her breath hitched.

"I wasn't planning to."

He leaned in, slow, deliberate, and kissed her. Not like the fire in his office. Not like the rooftop confession. This was something deeper. A claiming.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer, hands roaming her back, memorizing every inch like a map only he was allowed to read.

The rain outside turned heavier. But inside, time slowed.

He carried her to the bed, never breaking the kiss. Her breath tangled with his as his fingers slid under the hoodie.

"Riaz... are you sure?"

His voice was a whisper against her skin. "You're mine, Aashi. You've always been. I'm just making sure the world knows it now."

That night, between soft gasps and whispered names, he claimed her.

Her back arched beneath his touch as he undressed her slowly, like she was something sacred. His lips traveled across her skin with reverence—her collarbone, her stomach, the inside of her wrist where her pulse raced for him. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, needing more.

He took his time. Every touch was a confession, every kiss a vow. He murmured her name like a prayer, again and again, as their bodies moved in rhythm—slow at first, then desperate, wild.

She cried out his name when he finally sank into her, fingers digging into his back, breath ragged. He groaned against her neck, holding her like she'd disappear if he let go.

And when they both came undone together, wrapped in each other and trembling, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "You're mine. Always."

She fell asleep on his chest, heart finally at rest.

And the bracelet never left his wrist again.