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770 Words
" MORNING, HIS ARM, THE FEELING I WAS NOT READY FOR."
-I woke up with his arm around me.
Heavy. Warm. Real.
I lay still for a long moment. Eyes open. Ceiling above me.
I waited for panic. For that cold voice in my head that always says too close, too fast, this is dangerous, get up.
It did not come.
What came instead was quiet. And something that felt dangerously like home.
I turned carefully. He was asleep. That controlled, polished surface totally gone β just a man, breathing slowly, dark lashes, the small scar on his jaw I had noticed before and asked about and he had said, motorbike, age nineteen, don't ask, which meant I was definitely going to ask again later.
His hands were open in sleep. Relaxed. He was never relaxed when he was awake.
I looked at him for too long.
His eyes opened.
Found mine immediately. No confusion. No adjustment.
Like even asleep he had known exactly where I was.
"Good morning," he said. Voice rough and low.
"Good morning," I said.
Silence. Neither of us moving.
"You are analyzing me," he said.
"I am always analyzing."
"Conclusion?"
I looked at him. This man who knew my address and my coffee order and the time I looked out my window every evening and had shown up in eleven minutes because he was already nearby and had not told me.
"Professionally," I said, "this is the most irrational thing I have ever done."
"And personally?"
A pause.
"The most honest thing I have done in years," I said quietly.
Something lit up in his eyes. Fast and bright.
"Zara," he said.
"Don't," I said. "Don't do the thing with my name."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you say it like it is something precious."
He was quiet for a moment.
"What if it is," he said.
My chest did something dangerous.
"We need to talk about the case," I said.
"I know."
"Last night changes things. Professionally I need toβ"
"I know." He sat up. Reached for his shirt. I watched his back β the line of his shoulders β and told my brain to behave. My brain did not listen.
"Aryan," I said.
He looked over his shoulder.
"Did you know Rohan was connected to Rane before the murder?"
A pause.
"Yes," he said.
"For how long?"
"Three months before." He turned to face me fully. "Rohan found financial records β old transactions connecting Rane to my father's accounts. He contacted me. Said he had proof. Said he wanted us to go to authorities together." He looked at his hands. "We were supposed to meet the week he died."
"And the files?"
"Gone." He said it simply. "Like they never existed."
The morning had changed. Warm and soft to sharp and cold in the space of two minutes.
"You are not just the victim's business partner," I said slowly. "You never were. You are the whole reason this case exists. Rane has been watching you for years. Rohan got close to the truth and Rane had him removed. And nowβ"
"Now you are close to me," Aryan said. "Which means you are visible."
We looked at each other.
"We move today," I said. "I call Rajan. We lay out what we have."
"Together," he said.
"Together."
He nodded.
Then he looked at me with something so clear and open in his expression that I had to look away for a second.
"After this is over," he said.
"After this is over β what?"
"We figure out what we are," he said. "Without the case between us. Without the danger. Justβ" He paused. "Just this. Whatever this is."
I looked at him.
"You already know what you want it to be," I said. It was not a question.
"I have known for a while," he said simply.
"When did you know?"
"The crime scene," he said. "You stood up, pulled off your glove, and told Rajan not to give me your information." He almost smiled. "I knew right then."
"That isβ"
"Insane, yes." He reached across and tucked my hair back β that gesture again, soft and deliberate. "I am aware."
I looked at him.
"We are both insane," I said.
"Completely," he agreed.
"This could still go very badly."
"It could," he said. "I don't care."
I kissed him again before he could say anything more perfect.
And outside, the city woke up without knowing that two people inside one apartment had just made a quiet, private decision to burn a dangerous man down.
Together.
- Writer
