Sunlight filtered in through the window, gentle and warm, spreading across the guest room like a slow, shy hug. Akif blinked awake, groaning softly as his head throbbed lightly — not pain, but confusion.

He sat up.

Blanket. Strange bed. Dimly familiar room.

Wait. This wasn’t his house.

His eyes adjusted.

He was in Ayaan’s guest room.

And then—

Boom.

Flashback. Her face. Her scent. The balcony. His words. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Akif froze.

His ears turned red.

He slapped his hand across his face. “No, no, no, no...”

He threw himself back down and pulled the blanket over his entire head.

Footsteps.

“Akif?” Zoya’s voice came softly from the doorway.

He panicked harder. Burrowed deeper.

“Oh no,” she laughed. “Don’t tell me you're hiding like a burrito.”

Muffled voice: “I can’t face you.”

Zoya walked in, holding a glass of water and a painkiller. “You didn’t do anything that bad, you know.”

“I said I loved you!” his voice echoed from under the blanket.

“You think you said that,” she teased.

He peeked his face out just enough to see her standing there in a soft hoodie and leggings, her hair tied up in a messy bun, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You remember everything?” she asked gently.

“Unfortunately,” he groaned.

“You were drugged. It’s not your fault.”

“But it’s embarrassing,” he whispered, hiding again. “I called your voice whipped cream.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out. “You also said I smell like vanilla.”

He groaned louder.

“Akif,” she said softly, walking closer. “It was... kind of sweet.”

He peeked again, eyes unsure. “Really?”

She nodded.

Then, with a soft smile, she placed the water and medicine on the side table and sat beside him, criss-cross on the bed.

“I liked what you said,” she added, voice gentle now. “Even if you were a little... messed up.”

He pulled the blanket just under his nose now, his eyes wide and shy. “You did?”

Zoya shrugged. “A little.”

They sat like that in silence for a minute — him half-hiding, her playing with a thread on the blanket.

Then he mumbled, “So... you don’t hate me?”

She blinked at him. “You called me the whole story. I could never hate that.”

He exhaled deeply, finally letting go of the blanket completely.

“I swear,” he said, looking at her with a half-smile, “Next party, I’m bringing a locked bottle with my name on it.”

“You better,” she teased.

As she stood to leave, he called softly, “Zoya?”

“Hmm?”

“Even if I was drugged... I meant every word.”

She looked back, her eyes soft.

“I know,” she whispered. “And I’ll remember it. Even if you won’t say it again.”

And just like that, she left the room — leaving him blushing into his blanket again, this time with a shy smile on his lips.

---

Cutieeee... I'm Inlove with these! Aww mah babiessss...

I'm feeling like a emotional mom🤭🎀