The days after silence

The next few days were a blur of studying and nervous anticipation for Priya. She found herself glancing out the window more often, a subconscious search for a familiar dark figure. She waited for the phone to ring, a part of her desperate to hear his voice, another part terrified of it. The silence from Arjun was deafening, and in a strange twist, she almost missed the intensity of his attention.

She tried to bury herself in her books, to lose herself in the worlds created by others, but her own story was proving far more compelling and unsettling. The memory of his kiss lingered, a phantom touch on her lips, a warmth that spread through her despite her attempts to suppress it.

Her best friend, Rhea, noticed the change in her. "Priya, are you okay?" Rhea asked one afternoon, watching Priya pick at her lunch in the college canteen. "You've been distracted all week. And you’re chewing your lip so much you're going to get a blister."

Priya forced a laugh. "I'm fine. Just stressed about my final papers. You know how it is."

Rhea, however, was not convinced. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did something happen with that guy? The one you were telling me about, the one who spilled coffee on your book?"

Priya's fork clattered to her plate. "No! I mean, yes. He got me the book. He came to my door. And then... I slammed the door in his face."

Rhea's eyes widened. "You did what? Priya, he's a billionaire! He could have just had his assistant deliver it. The fact that he came himself... and you slammed the door?"

"He was being a jerk, Rhea," Priya said, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and defensive pride. "He was being... possessive. Like he owned me or something. He tried to tell me that I wanted him. So I showed him that I don't."

Rhea just shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I don't know, Priya. It sounds to me like you're just as obsessed as he is. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

That evening, as she was studying in the quiet of her room, her phone vibrated softly on her desk. She pulled it out, her breath catching in her throat. It was an unknown number. Hesitantly, she answered. Priya?" His voice, low and unmistakable, filled her ear.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her—annoyance, anger, and a thrill she couldn't deny. She had slammed the door in his face. How dare he call her again?

"Who is this?" she asked, her voice deliberately cold.

A soft chuckle echoed through the phone. "You know who this is, Priya. The man who's obsessed with you."

"That's not my name, and you're not my type," she shot back, the defiance she had been cultivating all week finally finding its voice.

"I disagree," Arjun said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive rumble. "You’re Priya. My Priya. And as for my type... I think we're still figuring that out, aren't we?"

Priya’s cheeks flushed. He had a way of turning her anger into a game she didn't know how to play. "I don't have time for games, Arjun. The book is here. The deal is done. Our business is concluded."

"Is it?" he challenged, a playful note in his tone. "I'm looking at your university's course catalog right now. Final exams are in two weeks. So, you have plenty of time. Tell me, how are you preparing for your literature finals?"

Priya’s breath hitched. A cold wave of shock and anger washed over her. He had her schedule. He had been looking her up. "How did you get that?" she demanded, her voice rising in outrage. "You have no right to look me up like that!"

"And you have no right to look so beautiful with that fire in your eyes," he shot back, his voice losing its playful edge and becoming low and serious. "But some things just are, Priya. I told you I'm obsessed. I wasn't joking. I'm not a man who gives up on what he wants."

"And what you want is me," she whispered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow.

"I want to know you, Priya. All of you. The book lover, the animal lover, the defiant girl who slammed a door in my face. I want to know why you love the poems of Kahlil Gibran so much. What do they tell you about the world that I'm missing?"

He was brilliant. He wasn't just demanding her attention; he was asking for her thoughts, her passions. He was using her own interests against her. She felt her resolve begin to crack.

"I'm not going to play this game with you," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"It's not a game," he said, his voice now a warm and reassuring murmur. "It's a conversation. A conversation we should have in person. What's your favorite café? I'll meet you there."

"No," she said, her voice firm, the defiance returning. "I'm not meeting you. Ever."

A long silence followed, and Priya was about to hang up, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Then, Arjun's voice returned, softer still. "Okay," he said. "Then I'll just wait here for you to call me back."

And with that, he hung up. Priya stared at her phone, her mind reeling. He had given her control, and it was the most unnerving thing he could have done. He had forced her to make the next move, to decide whether she would let him go or draw him back in. The choice was hers, and she knew, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that she was in far more trouble than she thought

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