The kiss was slowing down, but I wasn't ready to let it end.

My hands were still resting on his waist, holding him close, feeling the rapid, thundering beat of his heart through his shirt. It matched mine. It was a chaotic, beautiful rhythm that drowned out the sound of the ocean outside.

Dhruv pulled back slowly. He didn't shove me away, but he created a few inches of distance, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His eyes were dark, dilated, and filled with a raw panic that looked suspiciously like desire.

I didn't want the distance.

I leaned in again, standing on my toes, chasing his lips.

"Dhruv?" I whispered, tilting my head to close the gap he was trying to create. "What happened? Don't stop."

He flinched, turning his face away so my lips brushed his jawline instead.

"No," he breathed out, his voice rough and shaky.

He gently took my hands off his waist and took a step back, putting a wall of dusty air between us. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, ruining the perfect styling, looking everywhere but at me.

"This... this is wrong, Katha," he stammered.

"Wrong?" I asked softly, stepping closer.

"Yes, wrong," he insisted, finally looking at me with frantic eyes. "We have a contract marriage, Katha. You are forgetting the rules. We are only married on the paper. It's ink. Just ink."

He gestured around us, trying to regain his composure, trying to put the 'Shark' mask back on.

"We aren't actually married," he said, his voice regaining some of its usual sharpness, though it lacked heat. "I brought you here to save my image. To show the world a happy couple. That's it. That's the deal."

I looked at him. I looked at his swollen lips and the flush creeping up his neck.

"But you love me?" I asked.

The question hung in the air, heavy and absolute.

Dhruv froze. His mouth opened slightly, then closed. He swallowed hard.

"No," he said.

But his voice cracked. It was a weak, fragile denial.

"I don't, Katha," he added, almost pleadingly. "Please... I don't."

I stared deep into his eyes. I saw the fear there. He was terrified. He thought if he admitted it, he would lose the only control he had left. He loved me, but he wasn't ready to say it. And that was okay.

I smiled. A slow, gentle smile.

"Okay," I whispered. "So, I believe you don't love me."

Dhruv blinked, looking genuinely confused by how easily I accepted it. "What? You... you believe me?"

"Of course," I shrugged lightly, fixing the collar of my dress. "I believe everything my husband says. You are the CEO. You wouldn't lie to a simple girl like me, right?"

Dhruv narrowed his eyes, searching my face for sarcasm, but I kept my expression innocent.

"Katha," he sighed, looking exhausted. "I am not your husband. Not in that way."

"Okay, okay, Mr. Husband," I teased, emphasizing the title just to see his eye twitch.

"Stop calling me that," he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone.

I took a step closer again, dropping the teasing tone for something sincere.

"But we are the same, right?" I asked softly.

Dhruv looked at me, guarding himself.

"Dhruv, you didn't like me in the beginning," I admitted. "You just kept me like an object. You bought me. But... tonight, I realized something. We have many things similar. We both have scars. We both have same past."

I reached out and brushed a speck of dust from his white sleeve.

"Instead of fighting with each other," I suggested, looking up at him, "we can stay together for a year. We can continue our acting of being a husband and wife. But without the hate. Without the screaming."

Dhruv watched my hand on his arm. His shoulders relaxed, the tension draining out of him.

"Umm..." He looked thoughtful. "Yeah. That's why we married. To act like husband and wife in front of the public."

He looked at me, his gaze softening.

"And..." He cleared his throat, looking at his shoes. "You are not bad, to be honest. You are... tolerable."

I raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. "Okay, fine. You are strong. And I'm sorry... I treated you like trash. I shouldn't have done that."

"So?" I prompted, crossing my arms.

"So," he rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. "We will be friends. Like partners. We work with each other. And in return... you will get everything. Anything you want. Clothes, jewelry, travel... just name it."

My eyes lit up with mischief.

"Really?" I asked, stepping right into his personal space. "Anything?"

"Yes," he nodded confidently. "Anything."

"Then I want you," I whispered. "Will you give me yourself?"

Dhruv choked on air. His eyes went wide.

"Shut up," he panicked, taking a hasty step back. "No way. Absolutely not. That is not part of the deal."

I laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the empty room. "Relax, Dhruv. I was joking. You are so easy to scare."

He glared at me, but his face was turning a lovely shade of pink. "You are a menace."

"Okay, Mr. Husband," I beamed. "So we are friends, right?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Friends."

"But Dhruv..."

"What now?"

I walked up to him slowly. I reached up and placed my index finger gently on his lower lip-the lip that was still swollen and red from our kiss.

"Friends don't do this," I whispered, tracing the curve of his mouth.

Dhruv went perfectly still. His breath hitched. He stared at my finger on his lip, his face flushing a deep crimson.

"I..." He stammered, his composure shattering completely. "It... it was you who did it first! You grabbed me!"

"I know," I smiled, dropping my hand but keeping my eyes locked on his. "But that doesn't mean you had to kiss me back, Dhruv. And you kissed back very thoroughly."

He groaned, burying his face in his hands to hide the blush that was taking over his entire face.

"I hate you," he mumbled into his palms.

"I know," I replied cheerfully, grabbing his arm to pull him toward the window. "Come on, friend. Let's find some food before you faint from embarrassment."

Dhruv cleared his throat, adjusting his cuffs. He had regained his composure quickly-the mask of the cool, collected CEO was sliding back into place, though his eyes were still softer than I had ever seen them.

"I am also hungry," he stated, checking his watch. "And since we decided against pizza on the floor... we should go back to the hotel, Katha. The suite is paid for, and I need a shower."

He turned toward the door, expecting me to follow immediately like a good employee.

"Wait," I said, not moving from my spot.

Dhruv stopped and looked back, an eyebrow raised. "What now?"

"We will go back to the hotel," I agreed, crossing my arms. "But we will come back to this house tomorrow again. Promise?"

Dhruv's expression tightened slightly. He looked at the peeling yellow walls, then back at me.

"You can come here," he said dismissively, putting his hands in his pockets. "It's your choice. I'll send the driver with you. You can spend all day here if you like."

"No," I shook my head firmly. "You are also coming."

I walked over to the window, gesturing to the view outside-the silver moonlight dancing on the dark waves, the swaying silhouette of the coconut trees.

"Look at this, Dhruv," I whispered. "It's so beautiful. The surroundings are so peaceful. How can you hate this? It's not just a house; it's nature. It's... calm."

Dhruv followed my gaze. He looked out at the ocean for a long moment. His jaw unclenched. The tension in his shoulders dropped.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice low. "It is beautiful."

"See?" I beamed, turning back to him. "So you have to come with me."

He opened his mouth to argue, to say he was busy, to say he had calls to make.

"Ah-ah!" I interrupted, holding up a finger. "You just said we are friends now. Right?"

Dhruv sighed, looking at the ceiling as if asking for patience. "Yes, Katha. We are friends."

"Well, friends hang out together," I stated with irrefutable logic. "Friends don't send drivers. Friends come along to enjoy the view. So, you have to come with me now."

He looked at me. I gave him my best expectant smile-the one I knew he was having a harder and harder time saying no to.

He held my gaze for a second, fighting a losing battle, before he let out a short, defeated breath.

"Okay," he grumbled. "Okay. I will come."

"Promise?"

"I don't break my promises," he said, holding his hand out to me. "Now, are we leaving? Or do you want to starve your new friend?"

I laughed, slipping my hand into his. His grip was firm, warm, and steady.

"Then what are we waiting for?" I squeezed his hand, pulling him toward the door. "Let's go back to our hotel. I am hungry, and suddenly, I am very sleepy."

Dhruv let me pull him. "Finally."

***************************************

The drive back to the hotel was different from the drive in. The heavy, suffocating silence was gone, replaced by the soft hum of the radio-jazz this time, because I let him pick.

Dhruv drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed. He didn't look like a man running from his past anymore. He looked like a man who had just made a truce with it.

When we pulled up to the hotel porch, the valet rushed to open the door.

"Welcome back, Mr. Rathore, Mrs. Rathore," the staff greeted us, bowing.

Dhruv nodded at them, the cool, distant billionaire persona fully back in place. He tossed the keys to the valet and placed a hand on the small of my back to guide me inside.

"Straight to dinner?" he asked as we walked through the opulent lobby.

"Room service," I yawned, leaning slightly into his side. "I don't think I can handle a fork in a fancy restaurant right now. I just want to crash."

Dhruv looked down at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Room service it is," he agreed.

We took the elevator up to the Presidential Suite. As the doors slid open, revealing the massive, luxurious room we had abandoned earlier that evening, it felt... cold.

Compared to the warm, dusty, intimate air of the yellow house, this 5-star suite felt sterile.

Dhruv walked in and tossed his blazer onto the couch. He loosened his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt again.

"Order whatever you want," he said, picking up the menu. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Dhruv?"

He paused at the bathroom door. "Yeah?"

"We really are friends now, right?" I asked, sitting on the edge of the massive bed, feeling small in the huge room.

He looked at me. His gaze dropped to my lips for a fleeting second-a memory of what happened an hour ago-before snapping back to my eyes.

"Yes, Katha," he said softly. "We are."

"Good," I smiled, kicking off my shoes.

He shook his head, a genuine chuckle escaping him as he walked into the bathroom.

I laughed, falling back onto the soft mattress.

I stared at the ceiling chandelier, listening to the sound of the shower running.

We were "friends." Sure. We could call it that.

But as I touched my lips, remembering the way he had held me against that wardrobe, I knew one thing for sure.

This was going to be the most complicated, beautiful friendship of my life.