For the next few months, Kay and Zayn lived in a secret world—one built on late-night drives, whispered phone calls, and moments stolen between reality and longing.

  Kay’s days were routine. She worked the came home to her quiet home in Debe, and kept up appearances with her friends and family. But once the sun dipped low and the roads emptied, she’d slip away… straight into Zayn’s arms in San Fernando.

  He’d wait for her at his gate, always leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. But when she got close enough, the smirk would fade, replaced by the intense, hungry look that told her exactly how much he’d missed her.

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  Every time felt like the first. And every time burned hotter.

  They’d make love under the moonlight, in the kitchen, on the couch, in the shower—wherever their bodies could meet in that desperate rhythm they could never tame. She’d fall asleep curled into him, safe in his warmth, and he’d whisper how much he loved her, how he dreamed of the day they’d never have to hide.

  But hiding love wasn’t easy.

  Sometimes, Kay would see her brother’s Ravi’s name flash on her phone mid-kiss and guilt would gnaw at her chest. Zayn would grow quiet afterward, his jaw tight as he turned away in bed, knowing full well her brother’s hatred still stood between them.