Why am I freaking out at this moment?

He was just walking beside me.

Clam the hell down Yohan.

I glance at him. His hands were in his pockets, as if no carying of anything in the world. We stopped when we reached my car and I turned to face him.

“By the way, what were you doing out here this late? And where’s your car?” I asked, trying not to sound too suspicious, though I definitely was.

He blinked like I’d interrupted his train of thought. “Oh… um, I live nearby. Just walking around. I don’t have a car.”

Yeah. Sure. Mid night walks in expensive shoes. Totally normal. But I didn’t say that.

I jsut stared at him for a second, his answer raising more questions than it settled. His eyes didn’t meet mine. Something was off. Maybe it was nothing, but still…

“You want a ride?” I offered, more out of courtesy than concern.

“No. I can manage,” he said, brushing it off.

“Okay.” I turned, unlocking the car. As the car blink I hear him say.

"You’re not gonna insist?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I smirked. “I don’t ask twice. Drama king quota belongs to me.”

He scoffed. “You sure are insane.”

“Thank you,” I said, giving him a crooked smile. “Insanity is a compliment in this world. And I worked hard for it."

He shook his head in disbelief. “God help me.”

Just then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a car speeding toward us on the wrong side of the road. The headlights were too close, too fast, and before my mind could even form a thought, my hand shot out.

I grabbed his arm and yanked him toward me. We stumbled back together, his body slammed lightly into mine, and my heart thudded—probably from adrenaline. Definitely not from anything else. And the car zoomed past with a loud screech, missing us by inches.

My heart was racing. My breath came in quick, shallow gasps as adrenaline surged through my veins. My fingers were still clutching his arm.

“Are you okay?” I asked, looking at him.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just stared at me like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected. His gaze made my skin burn—intense and searching.

Finally, he gave a small nod.

I turned my glare toward the direction the car had gone and muttered, “Chutiya sala… ye log gadi aise chalate hai jaise inke baap ki sadak ho. In jeso ko to license milna hi nahi chahiye. Chu…”

“Don’t,” he interrupt quietly.

I looked at him, frowning. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t curse.”

My brows shot up. “That was nothing. Trust me, I’ve said worse for less.”

“I don’t like it.”

"Oh, come on. It’s not even cursing, it’s galiyaan. They have cultural context. They’re emotional expressions, not just bad words. There’s a difference. And for your kind information, main bohot galiya bakta hoon.”

“Well, keep your expressions to yourself. At least when I’m around.”

His tone was cold. Too cold for someone who was almost run over.

I tilted my head. “You’re serious? You don’t curse?”

“ No. And I hate people who use it casually."

I stared. “Wait—so you’ve never—like ever?”

“No,” he replied simply. “And I don’t associate with people who do.”

"Wow. Harsh. What are you, some moral guru in disguise?”

“I just believe that how you speak reflects who you are.”

“Then I must be a train wreck,” I muttered, pushing my hair back.

He didn’t deny it. Instead he said," if we’re doing this... whatever this is, no cursing."

I raised both hands. "Thik hai thik hai. Shanti. Can’t promise full control but... I’ll try."

He didn’t smile, but I noticed the corner of his lips twitch slightly. Progress?

I unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat. "You sure you don’t want a ride? Come on, no one’s wandering home after near-death experiences."

He hesitated, then gave in. "Alright. I live just ten minutes away."

He told me the address, and I drove us through the quiet streets.

The drive was quiet. The kind of silence that felt like it was filled with unsaid words and observations. I hated that he made me feel like I was being watched without being judged… and still judged anyway. The whole time, silence filled the car, except for the occasional glance I caught him throwing my way. Weird

When we reached his building, I slowed down and parked by the curb.

"Here we are,” I said, glancing at him.

He didn’t get out.

Instead, he looked at me with that unreadable expression again. “Come upstairs.”

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Come up to my apartment. We need to talk.”

“Talk about what? Bro I told you it's simple. So why do we have to talk about that?”

“Because if we don’t even know basic things about each other, your family will see through this in two seconds.”

I rolled my eyes. “We just need to show up once. They’ll see you and disown me on the spot. Trust me, they won’t bother with details."

“You really think it’ll be that simple?”

I met his gaze, frustrated. “Yes. My father is a control freak. My brother? He’s ten times worse. They’ll be too furious to even ask questions.”

He let out a dry laugh. “I’ve seen your father, Yohan. And your brother also."

" How do you know them?"

"I have seen them in business parties. Though I have never seen you. I just got to know that you are also his son by the surname. Bedi's are also quite famous you know."

I just rolled my eyes.

"But that's not the point. The point is they’re not the type to walk away without digging. You think just being with me will make them give up? No. Infact they’ll question everything. How we met. What I do. Though they probably knoe me, but still. Why you’re suddenly in a relationship. Don’t underestimate them. You think you’ll just walk in, say ‘Meet my boyfriend’, and they’ll hand you freedom on a silver platter?”

He leaned slightly closer. “No. They’ll investigate. They'll test you. And the moment they sense a lie, you’ll lose more than you bargained for."

I looked away.

"And you think knowing my favorite color and the name of my dog is going to fix that?” I snapped, not liking how close to the truth he was.

“I think knowing enough to act like we’re not complete strangers might help,” he shot back. “Your family isn’t stupid, Yohan. And we can’t afford to underestimate them. My family may be cutthroat businessmen, but yours? They seem... personal. Emotional. They know you too well. And they won’t believe anything unless it’s airtight. So we need to know basic things about each other. Otherwise, they’ll tear us apart before breakfast."

I sighed, resting my head against the steering wheel. “Why does this feel like more than I signed up for?”

“Because it is.”

There was a pause.

I didn't say anything and reached for the keys, I turned off the ignition, and looked at him. “Fine. Let’s go. But if your apartment smells like lavender or something, and if I see handcuffs or a serial killer wall with red strings, I’m running.”

“No promises,” he said with a smirk.

God. What the hell did I just get myself into?