Ishani's breath caught in her throat. Vishisht—had never been this bold, this tender. The real Vishisht had always kept a safe distance, his affection cautious, almost fearful, like he was afraid the world would judge him for wanting her too much. But this man... his fingers lingered on her cheek after tucking the strand of hair away, warm and sure, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool evening breeze off the lake.

She tried to pull her hands back, but his grip was gentle yet firm, refusing to let go.