Devanshi woke up to screaming.

Actual screaming.

Not emotional screaming.

Physical screaming.

Her eyes flew open instantly.

“What the—”

A loud crash echoed from outside followed by a woman yelling in Hindi about betrayal, dishonor and apparently someone named Pooja stealing her husband.

Mumbai.

Beautiful city.

Very peaceful.

She buried her face into the pillow dramatically.

“I miss rich people silence.”

Another crash.

“AND YOU TOOK MY AIR FRYER!”

Devanshi sat up slowly.

“Okay wow. This marriage has layers.”

After exactly three hours of sleep and emotional suffering, she dragged herself out of bed looking like civilization had failed her personally.

The apartment was a mess.

Clothes everywhere.
Open suitcase.
Half-burnt noodles in the sink.
One sock hanging from the lamp somehow.

Tara would faint if she saw this.

Actually no.

Tara would take photos first.

Devanshi tied her hair into a messy bun before walking toward the kitchen.

She stared at the coffee machine silently.

Then pressed random buttons.

The machine beeped angrily.

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

Nothing happened.

She pressed another button.

Coffee exploded out the side.

Devanshi stepped back in horror.

“OH SO NOW YOU WORK?”

A knock came from the balcony door.

She froze.

Please don’t be the hot neighbor.
Please don’t be the hot neighbor.

Unfortunately for her mental stability—

it was the hot neighbor.

Rey stood there holding a small white box.

Calm.
Perfectly dressed.
Annoyingly alive at eight in the morning.

Meanwhile she looked like a raccoon fighting unemployment.

His eyes moved once across the disaster zone behind her.

Then back to her.

“…Bad morning?”

Devanshi crossed her arms instantly.

“This kitchen is against women.”

“You attacked the coffee machine.”

“It attacked first.”

A dangerous pause followed.

Then—

“You look sleep deprived.”

“And you look emotionally unavailable.”

Another one of those tiny almost-smiles appeared.

This was becoming concerning.

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously, pointing at the box.

“Breakfast.”

“I didn’t order breakfast.”

“You were going to starve.”

“That’s actually offensive.”

“It’s accurate.”

Devanshi narrowed her eyes dramatically before opening the balcony door slightly.

The smell hit immediately.

Fresh croissants.
Coffee.
Something chocolate.

Her loyalty to self-respect weakened instantly.

“Oh.”

Rey handed her the box calmly.

“You should eat.”

She stared at him suspiciously.

“Are you trying to poison me?”

“If I wanted to kill you, breakfast would be unnecessary.”

Silence.

Devanshi blinked.

“…That sounded illegal.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It absolutely was.”

For the first time, she heard him exhale something close to a laugh again.

Tiny.
Quiet.
Rare.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

She grabbed the box carefully.

“Well thank you, Batman.”

“Batman?”

“You appear randomly, disappear emotionally and probably have childhood trauma.”

A pause.

“Accurate.”

The answer came too quickly.

For one second something shifted in his expression.

Gone immediately.

But she noticed.

Devanshi always noticed.

Before she could think about it further—

her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Her chest tightened instantly.

Not again.

She ignored it.

The phone buzzed again.

Then again.

Rey noticed the change in her face immediately.

“Problem?”

“No.”

Lie.

Big lie.

He leaned slightly against the balcony door, watching her quietly.

“People usually don’t look terrified over nothing.”

“I’m not terrified.”

“You nearly stopped breathing.”

Okay rude.

Also accurate.

Devanshi looked away first.

“I just…” She swallowed carefully. “I don’t want anyone from my old life finding me.”

Silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Heavy.

Rey’s gaze stayed on her for a moment longer before he spoke quietly.

“They won’t.”

Something about the way he said it felt less like reassurance…

and more like a promise.

It should’ve scared her.

Instead, strangely—

it made her feel safe.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

She changed the topic immediately.

“So what do you even do all day, Mr. Business?”

“Work.”

“That tells me absolutely nothing.”

“It’s enough.”

“You answer questions like a serial killer being interviewed.”

“And you talk too much.”

Devanshi gasped dramatically.

“Oh wow. Deeply hurtful.”

“You recovered quickly.”

“I’m resilient.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“That too.”

For a second…

they simply stood there.

Morning sunlight.
Coffee.
Mumbai noise in the background.

Oddly peaceful.

Like neither belonged in each other’s lives but somehow fit there anyway.

Then Devanshi ruined it.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully while eating a croissant, “for a rich emotionally constipated man, you’re surprisingly decent.”

Rey stared at her.

“Emotionally what?”

“Constipated.”

“…That’s not a normal insult.”

“It should be.”

Another silence.

Then—

“You think I’m rich?”

She looked around the luxury apartment.

“…No Rey. I assumed you survive on passion and prayer.”

That one actually made him laugh softly.

A real one this time.

Low.
Brief.
Dangerously attractive.

Devanshi immediately looked away and drank coffee because absolutely not.

No.

She refused to become one of those girls.

Tara would bully her for life.

Her phone buzzed again.

This time a message appeared.

UNKNOWN:
Come home before your father destroys Mumbai looking for you.

Her stomach dropped.

Rey noticed instantly.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Anshika.”

Something about his voice changed slightly.

Calmer.
Sharper.

Like a command hidden inside concern.

She hesitated before handing him the phone.

His eyes scanned the message once.

And for the first time since meeting him—

something genuinely dark crossed his face.

Not anger exactly.

Worse.

Control.

“Do you know who sent this?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.”

The answer came too fast.

Her brows furrowed instantly.

“You do?”

Rey looked at the screen again before deleting the message calmly.

“Probably someone trying to scare you.”

“Probably?”

“Block the number.”

That was not a real answer.

Devanshi studied him carefully now.

“You’re acting weird.”

“I always act weird according to you.”

“True but this feels… murdery.”

Silence.

Then his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID once.

ARYAVEER.

Ignored it.

Two seconds later it rang again.

Then again.

Devanshi smirked slightly.

“Wow. Someone’s obsessed with you.”

“He’s irritating.”

“You say that with affection.”

“No I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

Rey finally answered the call.

“What?”

Aryaveer’s voice was loud enough for Devanshi to faintly hear through the speaker.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

“At home.”

“You left a meeting with three politicians waiting.”

“Reschedule.”

“Reyansh—”

The call disconnected.

Devanshi blinked slowly.

“…You’re terrifying.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket calmly.

She studied him again.

The expensive watch.
The controlled posture.
The unreadable expression.

Nothing about this man felt normal.

And yet somehow…

she was beginning to feel less alone around him.

That itself should’ve terrified her most.

Instead she found herself smiling slightly.

“I have a rule,” she announced suddenly.

Rey looked at her.

“What rule?”

“If we’re neighbors sharing this weird balcony situation, we need boundaries.”

“Boundaries.”

“Yes.”

“Interesting choice considering you insult me every eight minutes.”

“That’s personality, not boundary violation.”

His expression stayed blank.

She continued dramatically.

“Rule number one: don’t enter my apartment randomly.”

“You left the balcony open.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Noted.”

“Rule number two: stop knowing suspicious things about me.”

“No promises.”

She narrowed her eyes instantly.

“That sounded threatening.”

“It wasn’t.”

Liar.

“Rule number three,” she continued, “if I die mysteriously, I want everyone to know I always suspected you first.”

This time he fully looked at her.

Then very calmly said—

“If you die, Anshika… Mumbai will have much bigger problems.”

The words should’ve sounded arrogant.

Instead they sounded terrifyingly sincere.

And Devanshi suddenly realized something she probably should’ve understood earlier.

This man—

this quiet, calm, emotionally constipated balcony trespasser—

was dangerous in ways she still couldn’t understand.