SIDDH

The moment the last vehicle disappeared down the winding road, taking the rest of the team with it, the silence that followed felt… different.

Not unfamiliar. Just deeper.

For the past five days, this place had been full of movement—discussions, schedules, overlapping voices, the constant rhythm of work—but now that all of it had receded, what remained felt wider, almost deliberate in its stillness.

The mountains did not feel empty. They felt watchful.

As though they had simply been waiting for the noise to leave.

The wind had sharpened too, slipping past layers with quiet persistence, cold enough to demand attention.

And yet— She had not moved.

Sagarika stood exactly where she had been, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, her gaze fixed on the road as though she had absolutely no intention of following it back.

I watched her long enough to notice the faint curve of her lips, the quiet satisfaction she was not even attempting to hide.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said.

She turned slowly, and the expression I expected was already there—mischief, satisfaction, and something far too pleased for the situation.

“Immensely.”

Of course, she was.

“Extending a five-day work trip into a personal expedition in sub-zero temperatures,” I said evenly, “is your idea of enjoyment.”

“I am not extending it,” she corrected calmly. “I am upgrading it.”

“You chose poorly.”

She laughed softly, the sound carrying easily in the open air. “You really cannot handle things not going your way, can you?”

“I handle things just fine,” I replied, my patience steady, though only just. “What I do not tolerate is unnecessary risk.”

“And what I do not tolerate,” she said, turning fully toward me now, “is being treated like I am incapable of making my own decisions.”

“You are capable,” I said, my tone measured. “but also reckless.”

Her smile widened, as though I had said exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Bold.”

“Reckless.”

“Adventurous.”

“Irresponsible.”

She tilted her head, studying me with open curiosity, as if she were observing something mildly interesting rather than arguing. “You know, we could continue this all evening, and I would still win.”

“We are not continuing this all evening.”

“Why not?” she asked lightly. “It is entertaining.”

“For you. Not for me.”

“That’s because you do not know how to enjoy things,” she argued.

“I enjoy things that do not involve preventable complications.”

Her eyes flickered again, sharper this time. “You make me sound like a disaster.”

“You have a consistent history of inviting trouble.”

That made her laugh properly, bright and unrestrained, the sound echoing faintly in the open space.

“I would have enjoyed this more if you had not decided to stay,” she said.

That, at least, was honest.

“You would have been alone, if I had not stayed.”

“I would have been free.”

“You would have been at risk.”

“I would have been having an experience,” she corrected calmly.

" You are only complicating things."

She smiled faintly. “Only for you.” I had known her long enough to recognize that laugh. That was deliberate.

It meant she was enjoying herself.

It meant she was not going to stop.

*****

The hotel we had been staying in was fully booked for the next week, which meant finding another place was not an option.

We found a smaller one nearby. It lacked the scale of the seminar venue, but it was warm, well-kept, and efficient in a way that suggested it knew exactly what it needed to be without trying to impress anyone.

Sagarika stepped inside first, rubbing her hands together as the warmth settled in, her shoulders relaxing almost instantly.

“This,” she said, glancing around with approval, “is significantly better than freezing outside.”

This girl....

“You were not concerned about that ten minutes ago,” I reminded her.

“I was concerned,” she replied easily. “I was simply choosing to ignore it.”

That, I thought, was entirely consistent with her personality.

I stepped up to the reception desk. “Two rooms.”

The receptionist nodded, reaching for the register.

“Or,” Sagarika added casually beside me, as though the thought had just occurred to her, “one.”

What??

What the hell was that?? Where did it even come from?

Did I hear something she didn't say?

I turned my head slowly.

She met my gaze with complete composure, which was all the confirmation I needed that this was deliberate.

“One room or two rooms?” the receptionist asked, understandably confused.

“Two,” I said.

“One,” she said at the same time, perfectly serious.

" What nonsense!!" I looked at her again. “What exactly is wrong with you?”

“It would simplify things, it's much more convenient,” she replied.

“What? How can you even suggest something like that?”

I was losing my mind. If she was not a family friend and of course was not a girl. I would have punched her by now.

“Relax. I am not suggesting anything scandalous. It is just a room.”

" But why are you even suggesting that?"

She turned slightly toward me, her expression calm, almost thoughtful. “You are here to keep me safe, aren’t you? I am a troublemaker and you are a ring master who is staying here to guard me. Right? So how will you keep me safe if we live in separate rooms? So one room.” she smiled.

“That is not happening.”

“Such resistance,” she murmured. “Should I be offended?” she made a long face.

Drama queen!!

Why the hell was I here with her? Why didn't I just go away with others and let her stay here? Why did I call Sagar uncle?

“You should take your key,” I told her.

She held my gaze for a moment longer, as though evaluating whether pushing further would be worth the effort, and then, apparently satisfied, she picked up one of the keys before I could.

“Fine,” she said lightly. “But you are missing out on a very efficient arrangement. And my company is generally considered an advantage.”

Oh please!!! I would rather live alone on Mars all by myself.

“Thanks, I will manage with that advantage.”

“As you wish.”

She turned and walked ahead, entirely unbothered, that faint trace of amusement still lingering in her voice.

I watched her for a moment before following.

On the way to the rooms, we crossed the same couple we had seen earlier. The woman smiled at us politely, her expression warm and faintly curious, as though she had already drawn conclusions neither of us had agreed to.

I nodded in acknowledgment and moved on.

All that was not going to be simple. Sagarika had made that very clear.

If anything, she seemed determined to test the limits of my patience with deliberate precision, and the most concerning part was that she appeared to be enjoying the process.

I exhaled quietly, already aware of what the next few days were going to look like.

If she had been anyone else, I would have left.

If she had not been connected to my family, in so many ways... I would not have stayed.

But she was. And I had to.

Which meant I was now responsible for the consequences of that decision.

And for the first time since agreeing to this arrangement, I had the distinct feeling—

That she was going to make sure I regretted it.