AUTHOR'S NOTE – Mine Yes!
Hello, dear readers!
Thank you for your unwavering support and enthusiasm for Mine Yes! Your encouragement inspires me to pour my heart into every chapter. I'm excited to announce that the next chapter will be uploaded tonight at 10:30 PM. Get ready for new twists and emotions that will take our journey to even greater heights!
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With all my love,
Penola.S
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The room was wrapped in silence, the kind that pressed against the walls, thick with words unspoken and emotions restrained. The dim glow of the moon filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across the spacious bedroom. The air smelled faintly of cologne and the faint musk of alcohol—a reminder of Rudra's earlier indulgence.
His head rested against Anaya's lap, his grip around her waist firm yet strangely gentle. Possessive, but not forceful. As if he was holding onto something he wasn't ready to let go of just yet.
Anaya should push him away.
She should remind him of the walls he had carefully built between them, of the distance he had always maintained. She should tell him to sleep, to let go.
But she didn't.
Instead, her fingers moved of their own accord, gliding through his thick, dark hair, slow and deliberate, feeling the weight of the moment settle deep in her chest. She had never touched him like this before—at least, not voluntarily. And certainly not like this, where his defenses were lowered, where he was just a man seeking warmth in the dead of night.
His breathing was steady but shallow. His fingers, resting against the curve of her waist, twitched slightly with every pass of her hand over his scalp.
His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "You're warm."
Two words. Simple. Uncomplicated.
Yet, they sent something sharp and unexplainable through her heart.
She shouldn't let them mean anything. She shouldn't think too deeply about them. And yet, in the quiet of the night, when his usual coldness was gone, it was impossible not to.
Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second before resuming their slow movements.
"Rudra…" she started, unsure of what she was going to say, but he cut her off before she could find the words.
"Stay."
Her breath hitched.
One word. A simple, drunken request.
But it was dangerous.
Because it made her want to stay.
Because it made her want to believe that this moment was real.
Rudra wasn't the kind of man who let people in. He was distant, untouchable, wrapped in steel walls of his own making. A fortress no one could breach.
But right now, with his body curled against hers, his fingers clinging to the fabric of her clothes like she was his only tether to reality, he was just Rudra.
Not the CEO. Not the man feared in the corporate world. Not the ruthless, cold-hearted boss.
Just him.
Anaya swallowed hard, ignoring the sharp sting of emotions rising in her chest. She exhaled slowly. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.
Rudra didn't respond, but she felt it—the slight flex of his fingers against her waist, the way his breathing evened out, as if her words alone had anchored him.
Minutes passed, maybe hours. Time blurred as the warmth of his body seeped into hers. She should wake him up, tell him to sleep properly. She should move, create the distance that always existed between them.
But she didn't.
Instead, she let herself live in the moment—just this once.
A Breaking Dawn
The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden hues over the bed. Anaya stirred, her muscles stiff from the awkward position she had fallen asleep in.
For a moment, she couldn't move. Couldn't process.
Because Rudra was still there.
His head was still on her lap, his grip on her waist had loosened, but his presence was overwhelming. He was warm, his breath steady and even against her skin.
And he looked…peaceful.
Anaya had never seen him like this.
In the daylight, Rudra Singhaniya was sharp edges and cold glares. He was ruthless efficiency and unyielding control. But here, in the fragile light of dawn, he was something else.
Something almost human.
She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how close they were, how intimate this position was. A blush crept up her neck, heat spreading through her cheeks.
She had to move before he woke up.
Carefully, she lifted his arm from around her waist, inching out from under him. But the moment her warmth left, Rudra stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as his hand reached for her instinctively.
"Anaya…"
Her breath caught in her throat.
His voice was deep, raspy with sleep. He wasn't awake, not fully. But he was calling her name.
And that did something dangerous to her heart.
She hesitated for a moment before standing up, pulling the blanket over him. She stepped back, her gaze lingering on his face for a second longer than necessary.
Then she turned, walking towards the bathroom, needing to put as much distance between them as possible before she started thinking things she had no right to.
Before she started wanting things she could never have.
A Reckoning
By the time Rudra woke up, the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. His head throbbed slightly, a dull ache at the back of his skull, but it wasn't unpleasant. He blinked, adjusting to the light filtering through the curtains.
Something felt different.
The bed was empty beside him, but the warmth on the sheets lingered. And there was the faintest trace of vanilla—Anaya's scent.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, memories of the previous night surfacing. He remembered drinking. He remembered Aarav and Ravi. He remembered walking into his room, barely making it to bed.
And then…
Anaya.
His jaw tightened as fragmented memories came back to him. The way she touched his hair, her soft voice telling him to change, the way he had held her.
Fuck.
Rudra exhaled sharply, swinging his legs over the bed. He shouldn't have let that happen. He should have kept his distance. Anaya wasn't someone he could afford to get attached to.
She was his wife in name only. A necessity, not a luxury.
And yet…
He had held her like she was his.
Like he didn't want to let her go.
He pushed himself up, shaking off the thoughts threatening to consume him. This meant nothing. It was a lapse in judgment. Nothing more.
And he would make sure Anaya knew that.
Whatever had happened last night would not happen again.
Even if something deep inside him rebelled against the thought.
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Anaya felt the weight of his head resting on her lap, his grip around her waist firm yet surprisingly gentle. His touch was warm, sending an unfamiliar shiver down her spine. She continued massaging his scalp, her fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, working the oil into his scalp with delicate movements. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words, emotions lingering in the air like a quiet storm waiting to break.
Rudra sighed, his breath warm against her thigh. His face remained turned toward her, the dim glow from the bedside lamp casting half of his face in shadow. His dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he blinked up at her, his expression unreadable yet strangely vulnerable.
"You didn't answer me," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you drink?"
Rudra's lips curved into a ghost of a smirk. "Celebration," he replied lazily, his voice deep, slightly raspy. "Sometimes, you just have to let loose."
Anaya let out a soft huff. "Let loose? Or drown yourself in something that makes you forget?" She didn't know why she asked, why she even cared. But something about seeing him like this—unguarded, stripped of the cold mask he always wore—made her chest tighten with a feeling she couldn't name.
Rudra turned his face fully now, his chin brushing against her stomach as he looked up at her. His fingers flexed around her waist, tightening just slightly before relaxing again. "You don't like it?" he asked, his voice quieter this time.
Anaya hesitated, then shook her head. "Not when it makes you like this."
He chuckled, the sound low and rich, but there was no real amusement in it. "And how am I, Anaya?"
She met his gaze, those dark eyes pulling her in. "Vulnerable," she admitted before she could stop herself. "You're always so guarded, so controlled. But when you drink, it's like…" She trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.
Rudra studied her for a long moment, his grip on her waist firm but comforting. "Like I let the mask slip," he finished for her.
Anaya swallowed, nodding. "Yes."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he turned fully onto his back, still keeping his head in her lap. His bare chest was now in full view, the moonlight tracing the sharp planes of his muscles, the faint scars on his skin. She tried not to stare, tried not to let her gaze linger on the way his abs flexed slightly with each breath.
"Anaya," he murmured, voice lower now, more serious.
"Yes?"
He reached up, fingers brushing against her wrist before wrapping around it gently. "If I ever… go too far, you'll stop me, right?"
She blinked, startled by the raw honesty in his tone. "What do you mean?"
Rudra exhaled slowly, his grip tightening for just a second before he let go. "I mean… if I ever become someone you can't handle, if I ever push you too much."
Anaya's heart stuttered in her chest. "Rudra, you—"
"I need to know," he interrupted, his eyes dark and intense as they locked onto hers. "That you won't just… accept it."
She hesitated, her fingers still buried in his hair. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't as bad as he thought, that he wasn't the coldhearted man he tried so hard to be. But she also knew that Rudra didn't believe in empty reassurances.
"I'll stop you," she promised, her voice steady. "Always."
Something in his expression shifted, just slightly. A tension she hadn't even realized was there seemed to ease, if only a little. He closed his eyes, his breathing evening out.
Anaya continued massaging his scalp, letting the silence settle between them once more. It wasn't uncomfortable—it was filled with something deeper, something that neither of them were ready to name.
After a few minutes, she reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, carefully draping it over him. As she did, Rudra's arm suddenly wrapped around her waist again, pulling her down slightly. Her breath hitched as she found herself closer to him than she had ever been before.
"Rudra?" she whispered, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest.
"Stay," he murmured, eyes still closed.
Anaya's lips parted, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She should refuse, she should pull away. But as she felt the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her palms, she found herself unable to move.
So, she stayed
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As Anaya's fingers moved through Rudra's hair, slow and steady, the warmth of his body pressed against her lap. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint trace of alcohol lingered in the air, making her breath hitch. The firm weight of his arms encircling her waist felt possessive—like an unspoken claim, one she wasn't sure she was ready to acknowledge.
She should pull away. Tell him to go to sleep in his own space. Remind him that he was drunk, that this was temporary, that tomorrow he'd wake up and pretend none of this happened.
But she didn't move.
She stayed still, her fingers continuing their rhythmic strokes through his thick, dark hair, feeling the tension in his scalp slowly ease under her touch. A soft sigh escaped his lips, barely audible, but she felt it against her skin, a whisper of warmth that made something tighten in her chest.
Minutes passed. The steady rise and fall of Rudra's breathing became deeper, slower, and the weight of his body grew heavier against her. His hold around her waist loosened slightly, fingers twitching against the fabric of her shirt as if he was fighting the pull of sleep.
Anaya knew she should move. Knew she should untangle herself before she got too comfortable. Before she let herself believe this moment meant something more than it did.
But exhaustion crept into her limbs, her eyelids growing heavier with each second. The warmth of Rudra's body, the faint hum of the city outside, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it all blurred together, wrapping her in a cocoon of quiet comfort.
She blinked slowly, trying to fight the pull of sleep, but her body betrayed her.
The last thing she felt before her consciousness slipped away was the soft pressure of Rudra's forehead pressing against her stomach, a sigh leaving his lips as he whispered something she couldn't quite make out.
And then, there was nothing but darkness.
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Here's the continuation of your scene with a detailed novel-style approach, incorporating texting between Ria and Karan while maintaining their playful dynamic.
As the night deepened, Ria lay sprawled on her bed, her room dimly lit by the soft glow of fairy lights twined around the headboard. A romantic movie played on her laptop, filling the air with dreamy music and dramatic dialogues. She rolled her eyes at the overly dramatic confession scene but still hugged her pillow, secretly enjoying it.
Then her phone buzzed.
She lazily reached for it, unlocking the screen to see a message from Karan.
Karan: Still awake, Princess of Chaos?
Ria smirked, already sensing an opportunity to annoy him.
Ria: Oh wow, you finally remembered I exist? Took you long enough, Kukreja Jr.
Karan: Stop calling me that. And I text you every day.
Ria: Really? I must have a selective memory because I only remember the times you annoyed me.
Karan: You literally exist to annoy ME. What are you even doing at this hour? Planning world domination?
Ria: Nah, just watching a love story where the male lead is way less irritating than you.
Karan: Ouch. That hurts. Deeply.
Ria: Good. You deserve it.
Karan: One day, Ria, karma will bite you back. Just wait.
Ria: Pfft. I'm karma-proof, loser.
Karan sighed, leaning against the plush sofa in his room, ruffling his hair in frustration. She was impossible. But despite all the insults, the playful jabs, and the endless arguments, he still found himself texting her every single night.
And what annoyed him the most? She always replied.
Ria stretched her legs out, comfortably sinking into the plush warmth of her bed as she continued her banter with Karan. The glow from her phone screen illuminated her face, making her eyes sparkle with mischief.
Just as she was about to tease him again, another message popped up.
Karan: Hey, Ria, I'm inviting our college friends for dinner this Friday. Do you want to join?
Her lips parted slightly as she read the text.
Dinner? Friends? Party?
The words might as well have been magic. Ria loved food. She loved parties. And most importantly, she loved being the center of attention in social gatherings.
Ria: Are you seriously asking? You know I never say no to good food and a fun night.
Karan: Yeah, yeah. I figured you'd say that. So, it's settled. This Friday, farewell dinner with everyone.
Ria's eyes lit up with excitement. Their college farewell was around the corner, and this would be one of the last times they'd all be together before everyone went their separate ways.
Ria: Wait, are we going somewhere fancy? Or is it one of your boring, sit-down dinners?
Karan: Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.
Ria: Come on, Kukreja Jr., I need details. I have to plan my outfit.
Karan chuckled as he read her message. He could already picture Ria pacing around her room, throwing clothes on her bed, mumbling about color coordination and accessories.
Karan: It's at Indus Sky Lounge. Private rooftop setting, good food, good music, and—
Ria: Say less. I'm in.
She tossed her phone onto the bed and immediately hopped off, making a beeline for her closet.
Opening the doors, she let out a small hum, eyes scanning the racks of carefully arranged outfits. Dresses, jumpsuits, crop tops, skirts… so many choices, yet nothing felt perfect for the occasion.
"Ugh," she groaned, pulling out a bodycon dress and holding it against her frame in front of the mirror. "Too predictable."
A sequined top? No. Too much.
A satin slip dress? Maybe. But what if she wanted to dance?
Biting her lip, she kept rummaging, finally settling on a fitted black dress that balanced sexy and effortless. She smirked at her reflection.
Perfect.
Meanwhile, back at his house, Karan leaned against his desk, staring at his phone with a smirk.
Ria had no idea.
She thought this was just another farewell dinner. Another fun night with their friends before graduation.
But Karan had plans.
He wasn't going to let this be just another gathering.
This was his last chance.
His last chance to show her how much he truly felt.
Ria tossed her phone onto her bed, her fingers still tingling with excitement. Farewell parties always held a special place in her heart—not because of the nostalgia, but because of the food, the music, and the drama that always came with it.
She had no idea that this time, she was the main event.
Karan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he stared at his screen. Ria, completely oblivious, had accepted his invitation with her usual excitement, not knowing what he had planned.
Karan: Great. See you Friday.
He put his phone down and exhaled deeply. Two days. That's all he had to prepare for one of the most important nights of his life.
Because after years of hiding it, dodging it, laughing through it—he was finally going to tell Ria the truth.