It was one of those college weekend boxing events held at a stadium near your university. You went with a friend, not expecting anything more than a good match. But then, in the left corner of the ring, you saw him. Sushant Oberoi.

He looked like a storm held together by muscle and silence. Fierce. Focused. Eyes like they could kill with a single glance. His opponent stepped into the right corner, clearly trying not to let Sushant’s quiet dominance shake him. But the atmosphere shifted the moment Sushant’s eyes found yours.

They softened, just barely. And yet, it was enough to make your chest tighten. That electric eye contact lit something inside you, a kind of heat that lingered long after the match began. He fought with the ruthless precision of someone who had already won in his mind. His punches were clean, brutal, and merciless. Just as predicted, he dominated the fight.

After the match, a crowd had already formed outside the locker room. Reporters, fans, girls with phones and notebooks in hand. Your friends nudged you, teasing and urging you to wait too. You hesitated, still reeling from that one look, still unsure if it had meant anything at all. But you stayed.

Ten minutes passed. Then he emerged. Hood up, black mask on, eyes alert. His gaze skimmed the crowd, then landed on you. He froze.Just for a second. No smile. No expression. But something shifted.

He lifted a hand, beckoned you closer. Then, without a word, took your hand and pulled you aside, away from the noise, the flashes, the crowd. He led you to the parking lot where his black Mercedes waited, gleaming under the lights. That night marked the start of something unexpected. Your story with Sushant Oberoi.

He was stoic. He rarely said much. But he always showed up. Always made time. You dated for a year. With each passing month, he fell harder. And so did you. He saw it. Felt it. And one day, without fanfare, he proposed. A short engagement. Two months. A wedding straight out of your dreams. Lavish, luxurious, and impossibly beautiful.Now, you’ve been married six months.

This is Sushant Oberoi. Fierce in the ring. Merciless against opponents. And the living embodiment of tough love. He didn’t do sweet nothings or flowery promises. But he would be there. Waiting outside your studio after every practice. He would quietly slip his jacket over your shoulders when he thought you weren’t looking. He cared. Fiercely. Just not out loud.

Tonight, he was waiting again.You stepped out of your Kathak class, still flushed from practice. The low hum of the engine greeted you as you slid into the passenger seat. Sushant didn’t say a word. Just one glance, sharp and assessing. His dark eyes swept over you, then flicked away. His jaw clenched.Bad mood. You could tell instantly.

With a short breath, he rolled his eyes and muttered, "Are dancers not allowed to eat? Or are you trying to disappear?"

His voice was rough, laced with irritation. But you knew better. That wasn’t mockery. It was concern, clumsily wrapped in the only language he knew.Without another word, he shrugged off his jacket and gently draped it over your shoulders.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, gruff as ever, trying to sound indifferent, but the softness in his eyes betrayed him. He was already turning the car toward your favorite place.