Coffee dates? Calm walks?
Cute… but not them.
Vashti Dhiman wasn't built for soft beginnings.
She loved loud. Fell hard. Burned fast.
And Shabd Heer? He was starting to remember exactly why she haunted him.
She wasn't subtle anymore.
Not when she walked into the hospital in that black saree for the award ceremony—eyes lined sharp, heels clicking with war.
Not when she laughed too easily at Dr. Armaan's jokes in front of him.
Not when she passed Shabd in the hallway and said, with a wicked smirk:
"Relax. I'm not yours."
He gritted his teeth, hands clenched in the pockets of his coat.
The other doctors noticed it too.
The fire was back.
Later that night, Shabd found her in the doctors' lounge, sipping Coke, legs curled on the sofa like she owned the room.
He shut the door behind him.
She raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you, Dr. Heer?"
He walked up slowly, stopping just inches away.
"I don't like it."
"What?"
"The way Armaan looks at you."
She smiled, tilting her head. "Why? He looks at me like I matter."
Shabd's jaw tightened. "He doesn't know you like I do."
She stood, chin high. "Exactly. He knows the version of me that doesn't have to beg for love."
Ouch.
He stepped closer. "You're playing with fire, Vashti."
She looked up at him, defiant. "Maybe I miss burning."
Something snapped in him.
He grabbed her wrist—not roughly, but enough to make her gasp—and whispered:
"I've burned for you every day since I left. I just hid it better than you."
And just like that, the air shifted.
Tension buzzed like static between them. Old flames, never truly gone, flared again—hotter, messier, realer.
Their eyes locked.
Their breaths synced.
For a second, it felt like one of them would cave.
But Vashti just smiled—dangerous and daring.
"You want me, Dr. Heer?" she said softly. "Earn me. Or watch me fall in love with someone who will."
She walked out—leaving him breathless and burning.
Again.
But this time, Shabd wasn't going to let her go without a fight.
Not again.
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