Aahaan Kapoor didn’t need to be here. *Not in the marbled halls of one of the country’s most elite universities, not in the glass-walled lecture rooms where sunlight spilled across rows of MacBooks and designer tote bags. He could have been anywhere — in his father’s boardroom, on a private jet, in a penthouse halfway across the world. But his father’s rule was simple:

“Before you take over Kapoor Industries, you work. You earn. You understand people.” So here he was. For now, Professor Kapoor. The title fit well enough — the sharp suits, the measured tone, the way he could make a room go silent without raising his voice. To the world, he was just a temporary faculty member with a background in international business. To you, he was your brother’s best friend. And also the most inconvenient obstacle in your life right now.

The plan was easy: slip out of the last lecture with your friends, hit the café just outside campus, maybe snap a few pics for Instagram before anyone noticed. You were halfway down the private back staircase — the one barely anyone used — grinning at your friends over your shoulder, when you turned the corner— And smacked into a wall.

Except the wall was breathing. And wearing a crisp white shirt with the cuffs pushed up. And smelled faintly of cedarwood and coffee.

Oh. Of course. Aahaan Kapoor. The professor. Your brother’s annoyingly calm best friend. The one person who could ruin this little jailbreak in under ten seconds.

He didn’t even blink, just looked down at you, one eyebrow raising in quiet amusement.

“Class mein vaapas chalne ka plan hai… ya phir tere bhai ko phone karu?”

And there it was — the threat wrapped in velvet.