The city was alive, a sea of golden lights stretching far beyond what the eye could see. The cool night breeze carried the scent of rain, lingering from the evening’s drizzle, and the rhythmic hum of passing cars filled the silence between us.

We had wandered to the rooftop of our apartment, a place that had somehow become ours over the years. It was where we came to breathe, to escape, to just be.

I sat on the ledge, legs dangling over the edge, the vast skyline reflected in my eyes. Rudraksha stood behind me, his warmth a quiet presence against my back. Even after all this time, he remained the one constant in my ever-changing world.

"You're doing that thing again," his voice was smooth, a teasing lilt beneath the words.

I glanced back at him. "What thing?"

He stepped closer, resting his forearm on the ledge beside me, his golden eyes narrowing playfully. "That thing where you stare at the city like you’re some tragic poet lost in thought."

I scoffed. "I am a historian. Thinking is literally my job."

He smirked, the wind ruffling his dark hair. "Thinking and overthinking are two different things, Aranya."

I huffed but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.

A comfortable silence settled between us, the kind that only existed between people who knew each other beyond words. Then, without warning, Rudraksha wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me against his chest. I let out a small yelp as he buried his face in my neck, his breath warm against my skin.

"Rudra," I said, exasperated but smiling.

"Hmm?" He didn’t move, his arms tightening around me like I was the only anchor he needed.

"You’re clingy tonight."

He hummed again, this time with amusement. "And you love it."

I rolled my eyes but didn’t pull away. Instead, I leaned into him, letting my head rest against his shoulder. His heartbeat was steady, grounding.

"You smell like old books," he muttered.

I laughed. "And you smell like trouble."

He chuckled, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. "You knew that when you fell in love with me."

I turned in his arms to look at him. Even in the dim light, his features were sharp, striking—yet softened by something only I ever got to see.

"Do you regret it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed slightly. "Regret what?"

"Choosing this life," I murmured. "Choosing me."

His expression turned serious, the teasing glint fading from his eyes. Slowly, he cupped my face, his thumbs tracing gentle patterns along my cheeks.

"I would burn a thousand kingdoms if it meant keeping you," he said, his voice low, unshakable.

A breath hitched in my throat. "You already burned one," I whispered, trying to lighten the moment.

His lips quirked. "And I'd do it again, if it ever came between you and me."

My heart clenched.

Because I knew he meant it.

Completely.

Utterly.

Without hesitation.

I reached up, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer until our foreheads touched.

"I love you," I whispered, because nothing else in the world needed to be said in that moment.

His eyes darkened, his hold tightening around me. "Say it again," he demanded softly.

I smiled. "I love you, Rudra."

His lips found mine then, slow and deep, a promise in every brush of his mouth against mine. A vow whispered through the way he kissed me—unrushed, consuming, like he had all the time in the world.