Kay didn’t go home that evening.

  Zayn hadn’t asked her to stay—he didn’t have to. The way their eyes had locked across the coffee shop, the way their fingers lingered together on that small café table, it was like no time had passed. They both knew what they were walking back into… only this time, there was no pretense, no confusion, no guilt clouding their desire.

  The moment they stepped into his house, everything else melted away. It was still the same space she remembered—minimalist, clean, masculine—but now it felt intimate. Familiar. Like she belonged here.

  Zayn kissed her before the door fully closed behind them. Deep, urgent, tender. His hands held her face like he couldn’t believe she was real. And maybe he couldn’t. She wasn’t the uncertain, impulsive 20-year-old anymore. And he wasn’t the brooding bachelor hiding behind a cold exterior. They had both lived with heartbreak. But now, they were ready to stop running from it.

  He pulled her in by the waist, groaning softly into her mouth as his lips moved hungrily with hers.

  “I missed this… you,” he breathed between kisses. “I’ve been starving for you, Kay.”

  She whimpered as he lifted her effortlessly and carried her to his bedroom. Clothes were discarded quickly, with shaking fingers and breathless laughter. And when he looked at her—her warm brown skin glowing under the soft bedroom light, her eyes filled with love and need—Zayn felt like his heart could explode.

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  He touched her like a man worshipping, like he was memorizing every part of her all over again. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as his hands roamed her curves, his mouth trailing heat along her collarbone.“I don’t want to go another night without you.”

  They made love slowly, then urgently. Soft moans filled the space between whispered I love yous. It wasn’t just passion—it was connection. Fire and soul. Fingers intertwined, foreheads pressed together, bodies tangled in the sheets until the lines between them blurred completely.

  Hours passed. And still, they couldn’t get enough.

  After the third time, they lay tangled under the covers, skin slick with sweat, their hearts finally beating in the same rhythm. Kay curled into his chest, her fingers lazily drawing circles along his bare torso.

  “I’m happy you were the one,” she whispered softly.

  Zayn stilled, then looked down at her. “What do you mean?”She raised her eyes to meet his. “I’m happy you were the one who took my virginity and the one I fell in love with.

  Something in Zayn’s chest tightened. He cupped her face, gently, reverently. “Kay…” His voice cracked a little. “You ruined me for anyone else. No one ever… no one made me feel like this.”

  She smiled, tears welling. “Like what?”

  “Like I was alive,” he said. “Like I was yours. Bazodee over you since that first kiss. Still am.”

  Kay kissed him again, slow and sweet, her heart bursting with emotion. They knew this had to remain a secret—for now. Ravi was still unforgiving, the past still fresh in his memory. But for Kay and Zayn, the future was slowly beginning to bloom again. Secret dates. Hidden touches. Long nights filled with heat and whispers and love too deep to deny.

  They were each other’s home. Finally.