A smile crept up at the messages I received, Nikhil was so dramatic sometimes. He'd sent me a string of offending GIFs just because I'd left him on read. Bringing the phone to my lips, I pressed the record button.

"I just came home, I'll message you soon." I struggled to control my laughter, my eyes jingled in my pocket as the house which I and four other people called home, opened. Usually, one of my siblings or parents would greet me but today the house was silent. There was the faint hum of chatter in the living room, but not as much as normal.

"Mummy?" I called out, the word echoed in the corridor, after faint scuttling of footsteps my mother came into view. She was dressed in a saree that was ironed hastily, a few crinkles still visible here and there.

"Nikita!" My mother's voice called with a smile,

"Look who's back," She said in a sing-song voice and quickly pushed me into the living room.

"Ma! What's going on?" My eyebrows knitted together with confusion, My mother smiled giddily pointed in front of me.

"Hello, Nikita." A deep and rich voice greeted me, I whirled around with my eyes wide open. He stood in front of me with a certain air of confidence and attitude paired with a smug smirk. I never did think I'd ever see him again.

"Ayush Sharma," I breathed, I never thought I'd have to utter his name from my lips. He seemed so different and certainly wasn't the Ayush that I knew. The Ayush I knew didn't have broad shoulders and a chiseled face. The Ayush I knew didn't have stone-cold obsidian eyes.

He just wasn't my Ayush.

But there was only one similarity, the emotion in his eyes. His gaze was filled with lust and yearning. His analytic gaze inspected me with an adoring gleam.

"Miss me?" He husked, a shiver ran down my spine.

No. I didn't.