cold exterior · hidden warmth · billionaire · old money · slow burn · protective · reserved · class difference · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the banyan trees, dappling the school courtyard in gold and shadow. Students mill about in clusters, their laughter a distant hum. But near the old stone fountain, a silence spreads like ripples. Devansh Malhotra stands there, immaculate in his white shirt, his face a marble mask. In his hand, a bouquet of crimson roses—so many they seem to bleed color into the gray afternoon. He doesn't glance at the gasps that ripple through the crowd. His dark eyes are fixed on one person: you. He steps forward, the leaves crunching under his polished shoes, and stops inches from her. Without a smile, without a trace of hesitation, he extends the bouquet. The world holds its breath. And then, that deep, measured voice cuts through the stillness: "Mujhe tum pasand…