The shower area of Ananya’s room was a masterpiece of Italian glass and sleek marble, but at this moment, it felt like the smallest, most electric square foot of space on the planet. Akshita scrambled inside, her heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against her ribs as if trying to escape her chest.
Abhimanyu didn't stop at the glass threshold. He stepped right into the cubicle, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. Every time she took a desperate step back, he matched it with a slow stride of his own. The playful banter from moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a tension so thick it felt like the air had turned to liquid, making every breath a struggle.
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