Accidentally : The One

Vedant’s POV

“Stop,” I said. The girl ran beside me.

“Look! Who’s here, a hero!” someone shouted.

“Wow..... hero’s here! Come on, let’s fight. You wanna fight?” another sneered, shoving me as if trying to provoke a reaction.

“You wanna save her? Everyone becomes a hero when it comes to a girl. What is she to you ...your girlfriend, your friend, or did you book her for tonight, huh?”

My blood boiled. I could feel a sharp sting in my palm as I clenched my fist so tight that my nails dug into my skin.

The anger inside me wasn’t new but this time, it felt like fire burning through my veins.

Every word they threw echoed like poison in my head.

“Woo, look ... hero’s angry.” One of them grabbed my collar.

“Look, you’re just a waiter. Be like one. You know who my father is?”

I glared at him, a smile twisting at the corner of my lips.

“Ooh, you don’t know? Why don’t you ask your mother,” I said with a smirk.

Before he could even breathe out a curse, my hand moved faster than my thoughts .

I slapped him so hard that he stuck to the floor.

Yeah.

My gym money hasn’t gone to waste.

Another came at me, his fist sliding just an inch away from my face.

“Woo, that was close.” I punched him back. His body hit the floor, nose bleeding, staining the tiles crimson.

The others hesitated, but I didn’t. I handled them all, one by one . no hesitation, no mercy.

It wasn’t pride, it was survival.

“T..thank you,” the girl stammered.

I gave a small smile , the kind that hides exhaustion, the kind I give to customers to end conversations politely.

Then, I turned back to my station, my heartbeat still hammering against my ribs.

My name is Vedant.

I’m an orphan. I don’t know who my parents were , only that they left me at the orphanage gate with a little money and a note.

I grew up there until I was eighteen.

Then I worked hard, earned a scholarship, and got into Regal Heights University.

It’s my last semester now , just a few more months, and then I’ll be free. My life, my rules.

That thought keeps me going through every long night and every low-paying shift.

Until then, I survive on part-time jobs.

And this… this place isn’t exactly the kind you’d tell your friends about. It’s a bar that runs a lot of illegal business , drugs, weapons, human trafficking, even underground boxing.

I never touch any of it except the boxing , because boxing pays, and because I need the money.

And maybe, because punching something helps me breathe.

I’ve seen enough filth to understand one thing , survival means staying out of other people’s messes.

But tonight, somehow, I got dragged right into one.

“Yes, miss! What would you like?” I asked, as the girl from earlier walked toward me again.

Her eyes , I noticed them this time , were sharp, almost too sharp for someone so calm. She looked at me as if I were something strange.

Like she was trying to read me.

For a second, it felt like time slowed, like the bar noise faded away, leaving only her gaze cutting into me.

“I want you,” she said.

I froze. My mind went blank.

What kind of line was that?

Was she drunk?

Was this another one of those spoiled rich brats playing games with the staff?

“Sorry, miss , I’m just a bartender,” I managed to say, my voice steady even though my thoughts were spinning.

I pointed toward the pick-up boys at the far end.

“The pick-up boys are over there.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Her eyes were locked on me, steady and determined, like she was searching for something she’d already decided to find.

There was something about her silence , it wasn’t emptiness.

It was purpose.

The music in the background dimmed.

The chatter disappeared.

For that one moment, it felt like the entire bar had stopped breathing.

Only her eyes existed, holding mine hostage.

Then she leaned in slightly, her voice soft but fierce, the kind that leaves no room for argument.

“No,” she said , her tone calm, clear, and final.

“Let’s get married.”

My world paused. I stared at her, unable to form words. Her face was unreadable, but her voice carried conviction , not a joke, not a game.

I could hear my own heartbeat echoing in my head. Was this madness? Or was she really serious?

Her words hung in the air like smoke , heavy, unreal, and impossible to ignore.