Khushi POV
Moments after almost dying and being save by Luca, I'd sprinted into my main studio class, breathless, my hair askew, and my cheeks pink. My professor, Ms. Shenoy, had stared in disbelief—the legendary punctual Khushi Agrahari, arriving twenty minutes late.
"Khushi? Are you okay?" She asked gently, concern knitting her eyebrows.
"I—yes, I'm sorry, ma'am. My alarm didn't go off...and then..." I swallowed.
She nodded and offered me a seat. "Okay, settle down. You don't have to explain."
I sat beside Aayushi, Tanya, and Meher—my safe corners. They glanced at me with whispered worries. "Late? But you went out of hostel earlier than us." Aayushi mouthed. I shook my head subtly, fingers brushing hers, "I'll tell you later."
The class resumed. I tried to focus on color theory, on hue vs. tone, on visual balance—but my mind was elsewhere: tangled in morning light, in strong arms and soft smiles, in eyes that saw my hollow places and stayed anyway.
Then, at the break, chaos around me. Others filed out. My friends chattered plans for lunch.
Aayushi turned to me, "Now will you tell me. What happened?" I saw worry in their eyes. "I almost died, but was saved." I said, with a small smile on my face. Meher stood up and exclaimed, "What are you okay? Who saved you? What happened?"
I held her hand and made her sit down. "I will tell you everything in hostel later."
Aayushi squeezed my hand. "Khushi—lunch today? Mess or that new café? We're trying the cookie shakes after class."
I looked at them—loving, hopeful faces. And I thought: I can't. Not today.
"Thank you," I said, voice wavering. "But...can I skip today?"
Concern flitted on their faces. "You sure you're okay?" Tanya asked.
I forced a small smile. "I'm okay. Just...not hungry."
Meher's hand covered mine. "If you change your mind, we're in the mess. Promise."
I nodded, grateful. They left to get food. I watched them go, heart tight. Why was my stomach tied in knots? I should've been relieved, carefree. But instead, I felt unmoored.
I found myself walking the quiet crescent of the courtyard after they'd gone. The autumn sun filtered through mango trees, turning yellow leaves into golden fragments.
A breeze picked up, making the leaves swirl like confetti across the stone benches. This should have felt empty—peaceful. Instead, my heartbeat pounded with expectation.
Would he come again?
Could he...
Just then, a sweet breeze carried the faint scent of cologne I recognized him by.
A tap on my shoulder.
I spun around, my heart hammering, as he stood there.
"Mr. Volkov?" I managed.
He tilted his head, studying me. The sunlight outlined his profile—strong jaw, high cheekbones, a glint in his dark eyes I could never have prepared for.
"Are you okay? Did I shock you?" His voice was low, polite.
I swallowed, my throat dry. The memories of the morning rushed back—him pulling me to safety, my heart hammering inside my chest, the world folding away...and then that intimate press of his palm on my cheek, the warmth of his heartbeat.
I cleared my throat. "Mr. Volkov, thank you for saving me this morning." My voice cracked then, revealing more than I intended.
He managed a ghost of a smile that made my heart skip. "Angel, you already thanked me in the morning. No need to say it again. It's not a big deal."
Heat rose in my cheeks. Of course it was a big deal. He had saved my life.
"No, sir. Obviously it is." My words tumbled out in a rush. "You saved my life—I could have died!" I looked down, thinking the ground wasn't worthy of my gaze then.
He shifted slightly, eyebrows lifting. I looked up again and saw genuine surprise — and something else I couldn't name.
But before he could speak, I said, "But sir...my name is not Angel. Did you mistake me for someone else?"
My heart plummeted. I had crossed some invisible line by challenging him.
His expression softened, the earlier stern mask melting. He actually smiled softly—a rare gesture.
"You looked...like an angel from Heaven," he said quietly. "And I didn't know your name...so that's what I called you."
That admission hit me like a breath of smoke-filled air—warm, unexpected, fragile.
I lifted my head, my fingers crawling with nerves. "I—I'm Khushi. Khushi Agrahari."
His eyes flickered—surprise, joy, something like relief. He released a small chuckle. "Khushi. It's beautiful."
I felt something bloom inside me, shy and intense.
I bowed my head in sudden embarrassment. "Thank you...again."
He hesitated. Then, with a playful smile tugging at his lips, he said, "Don't thank me again."
I registered his tone—gentler now, more human. I should have protested, said it mattered, but instead I just watched him.
He paused, then gestured to his side. "Look—I know this isn't a usual invitation. But if you really feel that grateful, how about...lunch? With me."
My pulse thudded furiously. His offer hovered between polite gesture and personal invitation.
I opened my mouth to refuse, but my voice froze in my throat.
He continued, "Campus mess again? Probably bland. I can get something better."
He smiled, and his eyes pleaded softly—no arrogance in them.
I swallowed hard. My mind protested. But I realized with sudden clarity: I wanted to say yes.
But I couldn't give something for nothing. "Will it be okay if I pay?" I managed.
He shook his head, amused. "No. Today, lunch is on me."
I touched my throat—warm with unshed tears. "Well...how about you drive and I pay?"
He looked at me, totally surprised by my offer but nodded a yes.
He offered me his arm. I hesitated, then took it. My heart thudded again—stronger, louder.
As we walked off campus together, I felt the world rearranging.
We passed under the arch that marked campus exit. He held open the door to his car—a sleek black Mahindra SUV.
I slid into the passenger seat as he climbed in beside me. Leather smelled clean, inviting. I placed a hand on the seat, grounding myself.
He started the engine silently and the car rolled forward, quiet and confident.
I wanted to talk with him but I don't know what to say so I was silent.
He glanced at me with soft eyes. "We don't need to do this if you're not comfortable."
"I—no. I want this."
He smiled—real, quiet warmth. A man I didn't recognize, but was already beginning to know.
I exhaled the exhale I didn't realize I'd held. He turned onto the main highway. The city stretched before us—din, color, life.
I watched him in the side mirror. He seemed...different with me. Less distant. Less remote.
I swallowed. Then I said softly, almost to myself, "Luca."
His face brightened like sunrise.
And I understood there was something here—beyond gratitude.
Something new.
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Hey guys, thank you for reading this part.
Stay tuned to know how Luca and Khushi life are going to revolve around each other.😉😎
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See you all tomorrow ❤💕
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