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"How did you come here?” he asked. Niyati looked much more in control of herself now, sitting beside him in a comfortable chair with their clasped hands between them.

He had loudly protested against their seating arrangement, but this time, Niyati held her ground. “No... I won’t,” she told him firmly, dragging the chair beside him and sitting down.

It was important—she couldn’t even form thoughts, let alone talk, when in such close proximity to him.

So sitting where she was now was a much better choice, no matter what this prince charming had to say about it.

“Public transport,” she giggled aloud, noticing his gaze.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, preferring her cheerful self over the gloomy one. “No, really! I changed two buses and then took an auto, and ta-da! I’m here. Do you know how far this place is from my college?”

“Very funny.”

“I am,” she said proudly. “Everyone says so.”

He was tempted to ask who exactly these people were, but that could wait. He needed to get his original question answered first.

He pulled their hands together, and her smile faded, replaced by a shy expression—something Achintya enjoyed very much. “I meant, how did you really come here?”

The girl who was too afraid to even stand close to him in fear of being seen by others had somehow gathered the courage to visit the hospital in broad daylight. The fear of what others might think seemed to have vanished.

Grumbling, she looked away. Hadn’t she just poured her heart out to him moments ago? Did he forget already? Or maybe that wound on his shoulder had affected his brain. Could be that.

His question brought another thought to mind. "You’re not the first one..." What did that woman mean? If she wasn’t the first to visit, who else had come to see him?

It could be his friends, she thought. But then why had the nurse phrased it so oddly? Maybe it was other girls. Yes, that must be it.

Something hot bubbled inside her—much different than the usual warmth he stirred within her.

“Who came to see you before me?” she blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at her abrupt question.

“I asked first—”

“Ladies first, you know—”

“Your comebacks are getting as good as mine,” he smirked lazily. She slapped him playfully.

“Stop,” she muttered, trying to focus. Even here, on a hospital bed, with his messy hair, white t-shirt, and gray joggers, he still managed to outshine anyone. “Answer my question.”

God, when would this man stop affecting her so much?

“Well, let’s see. My family, my friends—”

“Which friend exactly?” Her glare sharpened, daring him to answer carefully.

“What?”

“Which one?”

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” he finally asked, puzzled by her rapid-fire questions and intense glare. She looked like she was ready to douse him in gasoline and set him on fire.

“Nothing. I just asked you something.”

“Mayank. He’s my friend from college—”

Like a balloon deflating, she suddenly quieted down, the jittery feeling subsiding. So, a friend named Mayank had visited him. Fine, she could live with that.

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