3

The rain had started as a light drizzle, misting the streets of Mount Haven in a damp, eerie fog. By the time Ashwin left the bookstore, it had turned into a steady downpour, soaking through his thin jacket. He cursed under his breath, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he hurried down the slick pavement.

He hadn’t expected rain today. Then again, Mount Haven’s weather had always been unpredictable, much like the town itself.

His apartment wasn’t far—just a few more blocks—but the cold was beginning to seep into his bones. The streets were nearly empty, the distant glow of streetlights flickering against the wet asphalt.

Then, out of nowhere, a car barreled down the road, hitting a deep puddle.

A sheet of icy water surged up and crashed over Ashwin’s legs.

“Shit—!” He stumbled back, the chill shooting straight through his clothes. Water dripped from his jeans, his shoes squelching against the pavement as he tried to shake off the worst of it.

The car skidded to a halt a few feet ahead.

For a second, Ashwin thought the driver would keep going. But then, the door opened.

A man stepped out.

Him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in all black, he moved with an unsettling kind of grace. The streetlights cast a faint glow over his face, highlighting sharp cheekbones and full lips curved into something that was almost—almost—a smirk.

But it was his eyes that stopped Ashwin in his tracks.

A striking shade of grey, deep and fathomless, but unnatural in their intensity. The irises were ringed with something darker, something shifting. And for a brief second, Ashwin swore he saw them narrow into slits before they returned to normal.

A trick of the light.

Had to be.

The man approached, lifting a hand in something like apology.

“Didn’t see you there,” he said, his voice low and smooth, edged with something unreadable. “Didn’t mean to soak you.”

Ashwin exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, well, you did.”

The black coffee stranger chuckled, the sound warm yet oddly amused.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said, gesturing to his car. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ashwin hesitated. He wasn’t in the habit of getting into cars with strangers, but his clothes were already sticking uncomfortably to his skin, and the idea of trudging home in wet jeans was not appealing.

The man must have sensed his indecision because he took a step back, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Just a ride. No ulterior motives.”

Ashwin eyed him warily. “And I’m just supposed to trust that?”

“Would it help if I introduced myself?” the man asked, tilting his head.

Ashwin huffed, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Go on, then.”

The man’s lips curved into something slow, something knowing.

“Ishaan Arthava.”

The name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, smooth yet foreign in a way Ashwin couldn’t place.

Ishaan extended a hand.

Ashwin hesitated for only a second before shaking it. Ishaan’s grip was firm, his skin slightly cooler than expected.

“Ashwin Lockwood,” he replied.

The moment their hands met, something flickered in Ishaan’s expression. It was brief—so brief Ashwin wasn’t sure he had seen it at all. But it was there. A flicker of recognition.

Like he already knew who Ashwin was.

A strange, uncomfortable sensation curled in Ashwin’s stomach.

“Nice to meet you, Ashwin,” Ishaan murmured, releasing his hand.

Ashwin shook off the feeling. He was cold, wet, and exhausted. That was all.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll take the ride.”

Ishaan’s smirk widened, but he didn’t say anything as he led Ashwin to the car.

The inside of the vehicle was warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The engine rumbled softly as Ishaan pulled back onto the road, navigating the near-empty streets with ease.

For the first few minutes, neither of them spoke. The rain drummed steadily against the windshield, the rhythmic sound filling the silence between them.

Then, Ishaan broke it.

“So, Ashwin,” he said casually, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “You’ve lived in Mount Haven long?”

Ashwin glanced at him, noting the way Ishaan’s eyes flickered in the dim light. Still that strange, stormy grey—too sharp, too intense.

“All my life,” Ashwin replied, shifting in his seat. “You?”

“Just got here,” Ishaan said.

Ashwin raised a brow. “Passing through, or planning to stay?”

Ishaan’s lips quirked slightly, but his gaze stayed fixed on the road. “Depends.”

“On what?”

Ishaan turned his head then, just enough for Ashwin to catch the shadow of something unreadable in his expression.

“On whether I find what I’m looking for.”

A shiver crawled up Ashwin’s spine, but he forced himself to brush it off.

“Right,” he said slowly. “And what are you looking for?”

Ishaan didn’t answer immediately. His fingers drummed against the wheel again, a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“A place to stay, for starters,” he finally said. “Somewhere decent. Thought you might be able to help.”

Ashwin blinked. “Why me?”

Ishaan gave him a sideways glance. “You seem like someone who knows the town well.”

Suspicion prickled at the back of Ashwin’s mind.

“You don’t have any friends here?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“No.”

Something about the way Ishaan answered unsettled him. It wasn’t just the words—it was the finality of them, the way they left no room for further questions.

Ashwin exhaled. “There are a few inns in town. You could start there.”

“I was hoping for something more long-term.”

“Well, there are some rental properties—”

“What about your place?”

The question landed like a stone in the middle of the conversation.

Ashwin stiffened.

Ishaan’s tone was casual, but there was something beneath it.

“How do you know I have a place?” Ashwin asked carefully.

Ishaan’s smirk was barely there. “People talk.”

Ashwin’s fingers curled slightly against his knee.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, “I’m not looking for a roommate.”

Ishaan chuckled. “Didn’t think you were.”

Something about the way he said it sent a strange heat curling under Ashwin’s skin.

He didn’t think he was? Then why had he asked?

Ashwin shifted in his seat. “I can help you find somewhere else,” he said, keeping his tone firm. “But I don’t rent out my spare room.”

Ishaan hummed, his fingers still tapping lightly against the wheel. “Fair enough.”

Again, he didn’t argue.

Somehow, that made Ashwin even more uneasy.

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence. Ishaan didn’t press further, and Ashwin kept his focus on the road ahead, trying to shake the lingering tension coiling in his chest.

Soon enough, Ishaan pulled up in front of Ashwin’s bungalow. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the streetlights casting long reflections on the wet pavement.

Ashwin reached for the door handle, then paused. He wasn’t sure why.

Maybe it was the weight of Ishaan’s gaze, lingering even as he stared straight ahead.

Maybe it was the strange, nagging feeling that this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.

“Thanks for the ride,” Ashwin said finally, pushing the door open.

Ishaan inclined his head. “Anytime.”

Ashwin stepped out, closing the door behind him. He took a breath, steadying himself before heading up the stairs to his apartment.

He didn’t look back.

Because somehow, he already knew Ishaan was still watching.

And somehow, that realization sent a thrill of something unrecognizable through him.