WHAT A FUCKIN AWFUL BIRTHDAY!

I have been sitting in my house for weeks now, just going to work and coming back, why? My ex-boyfriend cheated on me 4 weeks ago, on my birthday. I walked in on him cheating at his place when I realized he’s forgotten it’s my birthday and surprised him at his place.

I can move on. I can do this. It wasn’t that long.
It can never be less, being cheated upon can never be less. It didn’t matter the time.

Four weeks ago, I found out my boyfriend was sleeping with someone else.
Four weeks ago, I cried so hard I threw up.
Four weeks ago, I swore off men forever.

And now, I am fine. It is better, I am doing great.

I was halfway through a terrible reality show and a tub of ice-cream when my phone rang.

“Delivery for Miss Menon.”
I frowned, “Delivery?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m outside.”
I hadn’t ordered anything, but I slipped on my slippers and headed downstairs. Curiosity got the better of me.

The second I stepped outside, I froze.

Flowers, everywhere. Not one bouquet, not two. Dozens. Rows and rows of them covered the front walk, bright colors of the flowers stretching so far that it looked like somebody had dumped an entire flower shop in front of me.

“What the hell!”

“You’re Priya Menon, right?” I nodded, my eyes looking at everything in front of me in despair. The delivery guy grinned, understanding my condition, “I’ve got a card too, ma’am.”

Of course. It’s Arko.
My ex.
Who else would send me hundreds of flowers after cheating on me?

I rubbed my temples. I hate him.

“Can you help me with something?” I looked at the delivery guy and he nodded, he didn’t have anything else on him, obviously after looking at the number of flowers. He raised his brows, and I asked him to put one bouquet on each gate in the neighborhood. He didn’t question and started doing what he was instructed to do. I opened my phone and unblocked Arko before dialing him. He picked up, in a ring, looked like he was waiting for it.

“Don’t do that again.” I emphasized. His voice was hoarse, “What?”
“The flowers, don’t send them again. I’ve nothing to do with you.”
“Flowers? What flowers?” His question caught me off guard. I paused, “The flowers Arko,”

“I didn’t send you any flowers, Priya.”

“What-” I rushed outside, and saw the delivery guy come and pick up another bouquet. “Wait, give me the card.” He smiled and gave it to me. I asked him to leave the flowers there and I stood upright before contemplating opening it.

Who sent them? The only question in my head. My fingers shook slightly as I opened it.

One sentence.
Just one.

For everyday, I’ve wanted you.
–A

Not my ex. Arnav. He signs like that. It’s Arko’s brother.

My heart nearly stopped beating.

I had known Arnav since the time I’d met Arko, he’d been sweet, but I’d heard he was intimidating at times. Arko didn’t like him, they weren’t friends.

Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into his driveway.

I should’ve thrown the card away.
I should’ve called him.
I should’ve texted him.

I don’t know which part was more embarrassing. Me pulling this move, or reading the card seven times before pounding on his front door.

I should leave. But the door opened before my common sense could catch up. It opened almost immediately, as if he was expecting me.

God help me, that was worse.

My gaze snagged on the sharp line of his collarbone before I could stop it. I hated that I noticed. Hated it even more when my stomach tightened. He wasn't even trying. Just standing there barefoot in a pair of gray sweatpants, one hand braced against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

A slow grin spread across his face.
“There she is,”
My stomach betrayed me with a flip. Oh god! But I ignored all of it for the moment.

“Don’t do that again.”
His eyebrow raised, “The flowers?”
“Yes, the flowers,” my voice almost huffed. “Interesting.”

“What?” He folded his arms across his chest which made me notice the muscles which were of no business. I snapped my eyes back at his face, I hope he didn’t notice me gawking.

“You drove all the way here to tell me that?” His grin spread wide. I’m not losing.
“Yes, I did.”
“You could’ve called,”
“I know.”
“You could’ve texted,”
“I know,”

“Yet here you are.” Damn Arnav. Fuck me!
I hated that he had a point. I hated that I had no answer to his question. I hated that he affected me more than he should have.

“Because I wanted to see if you were serious about sending me the flowers. Because you meant them. Because you had sent them.”

“I wanted to see your face when I asked you to not do that again.”

“Priya, maybe you wanted to see me.” He tilted his head. Heat crawled up my neck.
“No.” The lie came out too fast.

His face turned devil, smug spread across his face. Win in his eyes. He was clearly enjoying this now. “Oh definitely.”

I looked away. That should’ve embarrassed him, but it seemed to encourage him.
For a moment none of us spoke. The hair felt heavy, the tension visible, the tension undeniable. It had always been undeniable around him.

It felt like I was on the edge of the cliff where one step would change my life completely. Everything would change.
Then his expression softened, just a little.

“I saw you first.” I frowned, my eyes waiting, “What?”
“At the grocery store,”

I felt my heart skip a beat.
Immediately.
Violently.
Because I knew exactly which day, and what he meant.
The day everything with Arko started.

“I was helping an old lady with her groceries after I saw you,” His voice went lower, quieter. “When I came back inside, Arko was talking to you.”

I swallowed. Arnav looked away before meeting my eyes again. This time, the eyes showed determination. Honesty. Yearning.
“He knew I liked you,” The confession hit harder than it should have.

“He knew?”
“He always knows.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “He saw me looking at you.”
Something twisted painfully in my chest. I clearly remember that day.

The way Arnav had smiled at me in passing. The way our hands brushed once while we tried picking up nutella together. The way I thought about his eyes for an entire afternoon. Even before Arko asked for my number. I thought I was imagining all of it and Arko was the one. But maybe, I wasn’t imagining it after all. Maybe it was Arnav. Something I thought we both ignored.

His gaze dropped to the ground, “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
The sincerity in his voice nearly broke me.
No teasing.
No smugness.
Just honesty.

“I’m sorry he cheated.” A lump formed in my throat, I didn’t know what to say. Then he looked up, and met my eyes again. “But I’m not sorry it happened.”

The words should’ve made me angry. Instead, it felt lighter. My pulse kicked harder. Because of the way he was looking at me.

It wasn’t triumph.
It wasn’t satisfaction.
It was hunger.
It was yearn.
Three months of it.
Maybe longer.

“Arnav,”
“I’ve been waiting.” His eyes drifted to my watch which glowed showing the timing at the moment.
“Three months,” I froze.
“Ten days.” My breath stopped.
“Eleven hours.” He stepped closer.
“Thirty four minutes.” My heart stopped beating.

“You counted?” Every bit of amusement vanished from his face. “Every day.” The answer was immediate. Certain. Somehow the most dangerous thing he’d said in the whole conversation.
No hesitation.
Liars hesitate.
Players hesitate.
Men who don’t mean it hesitate.
Arnav, didn’t.

Not even for a second.
The realization settled over me slowly.
Terrifyingly.
He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t joking. He wanted me.

And the worst part? I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted him to stop. My heart hammered so loudly that he could hear it.
Arnav straightened and took a step back.

“Tell me to leave.”
“What?”
“I’ll give you that, tell me to leave.” His expression suddenly became serious.

“Tell me to shut this door,” Another step back. “We’ll pretend this never happened and I’ll never send you another flower.”

The world seemed to narrow to a bit that it was just him and me.
Waiting.
Watching.
Giving me the choice.
My mouth dried.

“And if I don’t?”
His smile was slow.
Dangerous.
But beautiful.

“Then we’re getting revenge on my brother.”
A laugh escaped through me, “What? What does that even mean?”
“It means–” he avowed. “I’m going to spend every day making you fall for me.”

My stomach flipped. “So–” A long pause. “Tell me to leave.” His eyes held mine.

I should have.
God I should have.
Instead I heard myself whisper, “Don’t leave.”

His smile was immediate, “Good answer.”
He closed the distance between us pulling me inside. His hands found my jaw.
Gentle.
Certain.
And when he kissed me, all reasons for me to stay away disappeared.

The kiss was warm, patient at first, giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted to.
I didn’t.
I stepped closer.

His arm slid around my waist.
The world tilted.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a single dangerous thought echoed louder than everything else. Maybe I'd chosen the wrong brother from the very beginning.