7."You… You Idiot!”

He complied without hesitation. To my surprise, he was young—perhaps around my age. His features were striking, with a rugged handsomeness that made him stand out. But it was his eyes that truly captured my attention. They were as dark as a moonless night, and they held a depth that was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

I found myself caught in their gaze, my heart pounding with an unfamiliar intensity. There was something profoundly captivating about his eyes, something that made me feel like I might drown if I looked too long. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that had settled over my thoughts. 'What are you thinking, Leela? He's the one who brought you and your friends here.'

Despite my inner turmoil, the man remained silent, simply staring at us. His gaze was intense but devoid of any obvious malice or lust. Instead, there was a quiet intensity, a sense of unspoken emotions that I couldn't quite decipher. It was as if his eyes were speaking a language I didn't understand, stirring something deep within me that made my heart race uncontrollably.

I tried to focus on the situation at hand, but the way he looked at me made it difficult to concentrate. The silence stretched between us, heavy and laden with an emotional weight I couldn't place.

I kept my knife pointed at him, my hand steady despite the uncertainty coursing through me. "Move towards the living room," I ordered firmly. "And don't try anything funny. If you do, I'll use this."

He nodded silently and began walking toward the living room. Chitra, still clutching a lamp for safety, followed close behind, her eyes darting nervously around the house. As we entered the living room, I gestured to the sofa. "Sit there," I instructed.

He complied, sitting down with a resignation that unsettled me. I glanced at Chitra, who was now scanning the room for anything useful. "Find some rope and tie him up."

Chitra began to search, her movements becoming more frantic as the minutes ticked by. The man remained passive, his eyes still holding that unsettling calmness. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him than met the eye.

"Where's the rope?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady despite the creeping anxiety. "Tell me quickly."

He pointed toward a door leading to the garden. "It's outside," he said, his voice calm and surprisingly gentle.

Chitra didn't waste a moment. She hurried to the garden and reappeared with a length of rope in her hands. Her face was flushed with a mix of relief and determination. "Here," she said, handing the rope to me.

I took the rope and looked at the man. "Stand up," I commanded. He did so without protest. I moved with practiced efficiency, securing the rope around his wrists and tying him to the sofa. The act felt strangely intimate, the tension between us thickening with every knot.

As I worked, I couldn't help but notice how his gaze lingered on me, an enigmatic expression in his eyes. It was disconcerting, and despite the situation, I felt a pang of guilt. I couldn't ignore the complexity of his emotions or the subtle hints of vulnerability in his posture.

Once I was done, I stepped back and surveyed my work. The ropes were tight, but not overly so. He would be restrained but comfortable enough not to cause injury.

"There," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Now, start talking. Why did you bring us here? What's going on?"

The man was about to say something when we heard the doorbell ring. Startled, we exchanged glances, and I turned to Chitra. "Chitra, stay here. I'll see who's at the door. It might be his partner."

Chitra nodded, her eyes wide with concern. I slowly made my way toward the door, my heart racing with a mix of hope and anxiety. As I reached the door, I peered through the peephole, my breath catching in my throat.

To my relief, I saw a police officer standing outside. A wave of happiness washed over me, and I hastily pulled open the door. But before I could speak, the officer saluted me, his face a mask of nervousness. "Ma'am, what are you doing here?"

Hearing his words, it quickly dawned on me that he recognized me as the Chief Minister's daughter. I had to act fast. "My friends and I were kidnapped by a man. We managed to tie him up inside," I explained urgently.

The officer's confusion was evident. "But... but—"

Before he could finish, I cut him off. "No time for 'buts'. Just come inside quickly, and please, don't reveal my identity to my friends."

The officer nodded, though his puzzled expression lingered. As he followed me inside, I couldn't shake the feeling that his voice sounded familiar, but I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the immediate need to ensure my friends' safety.

As we entered the living room, I noticed a cat lounging next to the man we had tied up. When had it gotten there? My thoughts raced, but I focused on the matter at hand. "Officer, this is the one," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

The officer's face clouded with confusion as he took in the scene. He moved swiftly toward the man, his tone a mix of frustration and concern. "Shivaay, what the hell is going on here? Why are you tied up? And who are these girls saying you kidnapped them?"

The man—Shivaay—looked up with a hint of irritation. "Can you at least untie me first?"

The officer, now visibly uneasy, nodded and began to free him. As he worked, I suddenly recalled the two men I had seen at the bar. The realization hit me hard. Was this the same Shivaay? My mind reeled as I tried to piece together the connection.

As the memory came rushing back, I stared at Shivaay, my voice trembling with shock and frustration. "You—You're Shivaay, the one who recited poetry at the bar. Why did you kidnap us?"

Shivaay met my gaze with a look of disbelief, his tone casual yet dismissive. "Kidnap you? You're just an average girl. Why would I bother with that?"

His words stung. How could he call me "average" after the way he had looked at me before? It felt like a slap in the face, especially after I had been feeling so vulnerable. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. "You just called me average."

At the mention of my hurt, his expression softened. He looked at me with a mix of regret and sincerity. "That's not what I meant," he said, his voice now gentle.

I looked at Shivaay, trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. "Then what do you want to say?"

Shivaay's gaze softened, and he spoke with an unexpected intensity. "I mean… you're beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Your eyes are like a blue ocean and a clear sky, pulling me in with their depth. Your lips are like fine wine, and you become even more captivating when you're angry."

His words were so unexpected, so intensely personal, that I was taken aback. Before I could fully process his compliment, the officer, stepped in. He placed a hand over Shivaay's mouth, cutting him off. "Shivaay, what the hell are you saying?"

The officer's nervousness contrasted sharply with the charged atmosphere. I could feel my cheeks flushing, caught between surprise and embarrassment.

Shivaay seemed to snap back to reality, but I remained rooted to the spot, my heart racing. The words he had just spoken echoed in my mind, making my cheeks burn with a deep, uncontrollable flush. I glanced around, only to find that everyone else was equally stunned, their eyes wide as they looked at me.

Trying to steady my emotions, I turned towards the mirror. The sight of my flushed cheeks, bright red like a rose, only intensified my embarrassment. My gaze shifted back to Shivaay, who looked equally shocked, his mouth slightly open as he stared at me.

Feeling a surge of frustration and awkwardness, I pointed a trembling finger at him. "You… you idiot!"

----------------------

"SHIVAAY'S POV"

We were now seated in the living room, and an awkward silence had settled over us. The girls had managed to contact their families, reassuring them that they were safe and at a friend's house. After ending their calls, they returned to the room, their expressions a mixture of relief and lingering tension.

I sat there, lost in thought, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My mind replayed the words I had spoken to Sreeleela—her name had been on the tip of my tongue for only a moment before I blurted out those unintended compliments. I had no idea why I'd said them; they had just slipped out, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Mansoor Bhaiyya broke the silence, his tone impatient but not unkind. "Shivaay are you going to sit there in silence, or are you going to say something?"

His words jolted me out of my reverie. I looked around at the expectant faces, noting the curiosity and, in some cases, frustration in their eyes. I could feel the weight of their stares, and the pressure to explain myself was almost palpable.

(A/N:If you want to support me, please use this UPI:-omgadekar29@oksbi "Om Gadekar")

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