“I don’t want to go,” Zoya said flatly, arms crossed, already half-dressed in a black fitted top and denim skirt.

Aarfa tugged at her arm. “We have to. If we don’t show up, Jiya will spread crap about us not being class-friendly. Also, Ayaan is going… and he wants me there.”

Zoya sighed. “So it’s a double date, but the other girl is the villain of the story.”

Aarfa smirked. “Exactly. So we show up, slay, and leave.”

---

The party was at a luxury rooftop lounge — fairy lights, glitter walls, loud music, and expensive perfume clouding the air. Jiya’s parents had clearly gone all out. Everything screamed “rich girl’s drama fest.”

Zoya walked in behind Aarfa, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor. Heads turned.

Including Akif’s.

He was leaning by the bar, dressed in a simple black shirt with rolled-up sleeves and ripped jeans. Sharp jawline. Quiet eyes. Dangerous calm.

And when he saw her, his expression flickered — like a soft flame that couldn’t hide even in a room full of neon.

He made his way to her.

“You came,” he said, voice low.

“I was dragged,” she muttered.

“Same.”

And just like that, they found a corner to settle into — away from the spotlight.

---

Jiya had entered like she owned the sky.

Her bodycon dress sparkled, her fake smile wider than usual. She strutted toward Zoya with a glass of juice and an evil sparkle in her eyes.

“You came!” she said with a voice too sweet to be real. “I didn’t think you’d be comfortable at a classy event.”

Zoya smiled with poison. “Oh, I was told the dress code was plastic—guess I understood it perfectly.”

Gasps. A few stifled laughs.

Jiya's jaw twitched, but she flipped her hair and walked away.

That’s when it happened.

She slipped something into Akif’s drink — not much, just enough to mess with him.

She passed it to him casually with a wink. “Enjoy, handsome.”

Akif took it without thinking. He didn’t like her. Didn’t trust her. But he was distracted.

Ten minutes later, he was different.

Too relaxed. Eyes glassy. Movements slower. His usual calm replaced with something… off.

Zoya noticed instantly.

“Akif? Are you okay?”

He blinked at her. “You have very pretty eyes.”

Her brows shot up. “What?!”

“And your voice,” he said, pointing at her vaguely. “Soft. Like clouds. Or whipped cream.”

Zoya stood. “Okay, you're definitely not okay.”

She pulled him toward the balcony, away from the crowd.

“Sit,” she ordered.

He flopped onto the bench with a dreamy grin. “You boss me around too much. But it’s cute.”

Zoya was panicking now. “What the hell was in that drink?”

“I dunno,” he said, his tone suddenly low, slow. “But you smell like vanilla and I think I’m in love with you.”

Her heart exploded.

“You’re not,” she snapped. “You’re drugged!”

“I mean…” he leaned closer, voice like velvet. “Even if I’m not. It wouldn’t be that crazy, would it? Me, loving you?”

Zoya froze.

His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers were warm. Too warm.

“Zoya,” he whispered. “When I look at you, everything else blurs.”

“Akif,” she warned, her voice trembling, “don’t say things you’ll forget by morning.”

“I won’t forget,” he said softly. “Because it’s already written all over me.”

Before she could respond, Aarfa burst onto the balcony.

“I think Jiya spiked his drink,” she panted. “Ayaan just told me she bragged about it to her friend.”

Zoya’s blood boiled.

“That psycho—”

“Come on,” Aarfa said. “Let’s get him out of here before this turns into a scene.”

Zoya wrapped her arm around Akif and helped him up.

“Where are we going?” he mumbled.

“Home,” she said. “And you’re sleeping this off, idiot.”

“But I don’t want to sleep yet,” he whispered near her ear. “I want to look at you.”

Her heart squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe.

---

That night, Zoya tucked Akif into the bed in Ayaan’s guest room, covering him up and brushing his hair off his forehead. He fell asleep almost instantly.

Before leaving the room, she whispered, “Don’t remember anything tomorrow.”

But part of her hoped… maybe he would.

---

Was it good? Too spicy? Too romantic? Too dumb?