The door of Abhimanyu’s room groaned on its hinges before slamming shut as he kicked it closed with the heel of his shoe. He didn’t bother reaching for the lights, he didn't want the harsh glare to break the spell. Instead, the moonlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in a cool, silvery glow.
In his arms, Akshita was humming a distorted, off-key version of a lullaby, her small hands still locked tightly behind his neck as if she were afraid he’d disappear if she let go. Every time her warm breath fanned against the sensitive skin of his throat, Abhimanyu felt his composure crumbling.
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