Chapter Thirteen
1125 Words
Aanya's POV
The moment she stepped onto the university grounds, Aanya felt it—eyes.
Too many eyes.
Watching. Whispering.
Judging.
It was as if the air had changed since yesterday. As if the ground beneath her feet carried secrets she didn’t want to be part of. Every hallway she walked through felt longer. Every gaze she crossed felt heavier.
Her palms were clammy as she tightened her grip on the strap of her bag.
She didn’t know what gave it away—the sleek car Ryan dropped her off in? The fact that he opened her door like they were in some fairytale? Or maybe it was just the way he had looked at her… like she belonged to him.
She kept her head down, trying to walk faster, to get to class, to disappear into routine.
But whispers followed her like shadows.
“Isn’t she the Indian girl from the scholarship program?”
“Yeah, that one. Didn’t you see her getting out of Ryan Williamson’s car this morning?”
“I heard they were together last night too…”
“That guy doesn’t do relationships—she’s going to get burned.”
Aanya bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to keep moving.
She didn’t want this attention.
She hadn’t asked for it.
All she wanted was to get her degree, make her family proud, and live a quiet life in a country that wasn’t hers. Not to be known as the girl “who spent the night” at Ryan Williamson’s penthouse.
God.
She felt sick just thinking about it.
Even if she hadn’t done anything wrong… even if all she did was sleep in his shirt and eat his ridiculously perfect breakfast and, okay—kiss him like her body had a mind of its own—she knew how the world worked. Especially this one.
Ryan was power.
And she was the outsider.
The new girl. The scholarship girl. The girl from India who apparently had no idea what she was getting into.
During her first lecture, she tried to focus. Tried to keep her eyes on the professor and not on the students who occasionally turned their heads to look at her.
But it was impossible to ignore the buzz.
By the time lunch break came, she was exhausted.
Emotionally drained.
She stepped into the common area and looked around nervously, hoping to just grab a sandwich and find a quiet corner—
“Aanya!”
She turned and immediately felt relief flood her chest as she saw Meher and Tasha walking toward her.
Two familiar faces.
Two anchors.
They both looked at her with a strange mix of curiosity and concern.
“We’ve been looking for you!” Meher said, pulling her into a light hug.
“Girl, you disappeared last night,” Tasha added, lowering her voice. “Everything okay?”
Aanya nodded too quickly. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
“Ryan didn’t... I mean, he didn’t do anything, right?” Meher asked gently.
“What? No! He just… he dropped me home,” Aanya lied, avoiding their eyes. “Well, to his home. I mean, penthouse. But he didn’t... he was just being helpful.”
Tasha gave her a sharp look. “You sure? I mean, it’s Ryan Williamson. And the stuff people are saying…”
“I don’t care what people are saying,” Aanya cut in, sharper than intended. She exhaled, then added softly, “I just want to get through today without another rumor.”
Her friends exchanged a glance but didn’t push further. For that, Aanya was grateful.
The second half of the day passed slower than the first. She forced herself to keep her head down, answer questions when asked, and pretend like her stomach wasn’t twisted in a knot of anxiety.
By the time lectures ended, she was already packing up before the professor dismissed the class.
She rushed out of the hall, barely stopping to wave at Meher and Tasha.
Because a part of her was terrified.
Terrified that Ryan might show up again.
That another sleek car might roll to a stop near the gates.
That she might see his face again, unreadable and intense and far too close to her heart.
She didn’t want that.
She couldn’t afford it.
So she walked home.
Fast.
Refused every cab that slowed down beside her.
When she reached her small apartment, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with nervous breaths.
She dropped her bag. Tossed her shoes aside. And went straight to the shower.
Dinner was simple. A reheated bowl of dal she had made two nights ago and a piece of roti from the freezer. Her appetite was almost gone.
And when she lay down in bed that night, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above her, her mind refused to stop.
Because now that she was finally alone, his face returned.
That stupidly gorgeous smirk.
That stupidly perfect voice.
The way his eyes softened only when they looked at her.
The way he stood in the kitchen shirtless, making soup for her hangover. Like he knew her. Like he cared.
And the kiss…
God, that kiss.
Her fingers brushed her lips instinctively, as if the memory still lingered there.
What was she even thinking?
Getting involved with someone like Ryan—someone who owned her university, someone who was whispered about in fear and awe, someone who could unravel her entire life with a single look—was not just reckless…
It was dangerous.
Emotionally. Mentally. Maybe even physically.
She couldn’t afford distractions.
She had left her home, her country, and her comfort zone to study, to build a future, to make her parents proud. Not to get wrapped up in the web of a billionaire who might be hiding far more than he showed the world.
No matter how kind he seemed to her.
No matter how protective, or intense, or honest his actions felt.
Because feelings were not facts.
And men like Ryan Williamson were not made for girls like her.
She swallowed hard and rolled onto her side.
The room was quiet.
Her pillow smelled faintly of the shirt she had worn last night.
His shirt.
She grabbed it and shoved it into the laundry basket.
And with a slow, determined breath, she whispered into the silence:
“I need to stay away from him.”
No matter how many butterflies fluttered when he was near.
No matter how many sparks flew when he touched her.
This was the only way to protect her heart.
Because if she let him in… even a little…
He would ruin her.
- Writer
