The Fire in Their Eyes
One month passed like a single night.
But each night without him felt like a lifetime.
There were calls.
There were whispers.
There were breathless silences where neither said “I miss you,”
—but both felt it in the way they said hello.
And yet, time moved.
Vacations ended. Hearts still raced. And now…
Chandigarh welcomed them back.
With the scent of dust on fresh uniforms, the sharp chill of morning breeze, and the electric hum of students spilling through the gates like bees returning to a hive.
For most, it was just another semester.
For Siyara, it was walking into a battlefield with butterflies instead of armor.
Siyara stepped out of the auto, her bag weighing less than the storm inside her.
She wore a soft blue kurti, hair loose and air-dried, silver hoops peeking through her curls. Her eyes scanned the familiar campus—same bricks, same buzz.
But everything felt different.
She wasn’t the same girl who left.
Because now she carried something deeper—
Desire she had no name for.
And then she saw him.
Leaning against the entrance pillar, arms folded, eyes locked on her like she was gravity itself.
Yuvraj
His white shirt clung perfectly to his frame. His sleeves were rolled up, veins visible. His smirk? Still criminal.
He didn’t blink.
Neither did she.
Her heart stuttered. Her steps slowed.
He hadn’t texted her that morning.
She hadn’t either.
Because they both knew this moment would speak louder than words.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(voice smooth as sin):
“One month and you still look like you walked out of my dreams."
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(pretending calm):
“You still talk like you have a fan club.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(smirking):
“I only have one. And she’s blushing right now.”
She tried to scoff, but her ears were warm and she hated how easily he saw through her.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(whispering):
“You think a phone call can satisfy what I felt that night?”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“Being this close to you after only hearing you… it’s torture.”
The hallway filled with footsteps, chatter, professors. But all Siyara could feel was him.
Siyara Banerjee.FL.
(soft):
“Don’t start.”
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
“Then stop looking like temptation in a blue kurti.”
She turned away, cheeks burning—but he gently brushed his fingers against her hand.
Just a graze.
Enough to make her knees wobble.
Yuvraj Singh Rathore.ML.
(leaning in):
“After class. Rooftop. No excuses.”
And with that, he walked into the classroom—cool, composed.
Leaving Siyara staring at the empty space where he stood, heart sprinting.
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