2. Mine to Notice
Aayush Mehra did not believe in coincidence.
Everything in his life had a reason.
A purpose.
A place.
People didn’t just happen to him.
But her—
She wasn’t supposed to stand out.
Not in a room like this.
Not in a crowd that loud, that chaotic, that desperate to be seen.
And yet—
she did.
The music rose again, louder this time, vibrating through the auditorium.
Lights shifted.
Voices blended.
Energy climbed.
But Aayush didn’t register any of it.
Because his eyes were still on the stage.
Still on her.
Sahithi.
The name had settled somewhere deep, repeating itself without permission.
She moved differently now.
Not like the girl who had stood in front of him minutes ago, holding a bouquet with quiet politeness.
That girl had been composed.
Measured.
Contained.
This one—
This one laughed too easily.
Moved too freely.
She didn’t check herself.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t hold back.
And that—
that was the first thing that pulled him in.
His fingers curled slowly against the armrest.
Because she didn’t realize.
Didn’t realize how the saree followed her movements.
Didn’t realize how the fabric refused to hide her softness.
Didn’t realize how easily attention gathered around her—
like it was drawn.
His jaw tightened.
Too many people.
That was the problem.
Too many bodies around her.
Too many eyes lingering longer than they should.
Too many moments where she wasn’t aware of what she was doing to the room.
His gaze sharpened.
A group had formed closer to the stage now.
Her friends.
He had already started recognizing them without meaning to.
The girl who laughed the loudest—Ananya.
The one who kept fixing everyone’s outfits—Meera.
And the boy—
Raghav.
Aayush’s expression stilled.
Raghav stepped closer again.
Effortless. Familiar.
Too comfortable.
He leaned in, saying something near Sahithi’s ear, making her throw her head back and laugh.
Aayush’s hand clenched.
Slow.
Deliberate.
The kind of control that didn’t break—
but tightened.
His gaze didn’t move from them.
He watched the distance between them.
Measured it.
Reduced it.
Hated it.
It wasn’t rational.
He knew that.
But it didn’t matter.
Because something about that—
about him being that close—
didn’t sit right.
Not when Aayush had already noticed her.
Not when she had already—
held his attention.
His fingers pressed harder into his palm.
A quiet, contained reaction.
But enough.
The music shifted again.
The group pulled her forward.
And suddenly—
she was center stage again.
The lights fell on her.
And everything else dimmed.
This time—
Aayush didn’t even try to look away.
She moved with the music like she belonged to it.
Not perfect.
Not trained to impress.
But natural.
Her steps weren’t calculated.
Her expressions weren’t rehearsed.
She just… felt it.
And that—
that was dangerous.
Because people responded to that.
Aayush saw it clearly now.
The way heads turned.
The way conversations paused.
The way attention shifted—subtly, but undeniably—towards her.
Not loudly.
Not obviously.
But enough.
His gaze darkened.
They were looking at her.
Not just watching.
Not just noticing.
Looking.
And he didn’t like it.
Not the way their eyes stayed.
Not the way their focus lingered.
Not the way they seemed to take in something they hadn’t earned the right to.
His breathing slowed.
But it wasn’t calm.
It was controlled.
Because something unfamiliar had settled in his chest.
Sharp.
Possessive.
Unwelcome—
but undeniable.
His thumb pressed once against his knuckles.
A grounding motion.
But it didn’t ground him.
Because she smiled again.
Wide.
Unfiltered.
Unaware.
And something inside him—
tightened further.
This wasn’t just interest anymore.
This was awareness.
And awareness, for Aayush Mehra—
was the beginning of ownership.
The music ended.
Applause filled the room.
Voices returned.
Movement resumed.
The moment broke.
But he didn’t.
His eyes followed her as she stepped off the stage, immediately surrounded again.
Pulled into laughter.
Into conversation.
Into something warm.
Something that didn’t include him.
His jaw shifted slightly.
He didn’t like that either.
“Sir?”
His PA’s voice came from the side.
Careful. Measured.
Aayush didn’t turn.
“Find out about her.”
A pause.
“Sir… who—”
“The girl,” Aayush said quietly.
And now—
his tone changed.
Not louder.
Not harsher.
But final.
“Sahithi Krishnan.”
His gaze remained fixed on her.
“Everything.”
The word landed heavier than it sounded.
“By evening.”
A second of silence.
Then—
“Yes, sir.”
Aayush leaned back slowly.
But his eyes—
never left her.
She was still laughing.
Still unaware.
Still completely untouched by the shift that had just taken place.
And that—
that was the most dangerous part.
Because she didn’t see it coming.
Didn’t feel the weight of his attention.
Didn’t understand what it meant to be chosen by someone like him.
But he did.
And that was enough.
Because Aayush Mehra didn’t need time.
Didn’t need permission.
Didn’t need reason.
He needed only one thing—
certainty.
And he had it now.
His fingers finally relaxed, unclenching slowly.
But the tension didn’t leave.
It settled.
Deeper.
Quieter.
Stronger.
Because this wasn’t something that would pass.
Not something that would fade.
This was something that would grow.
And Sahithi—
soft, unaware, and surrounded by people who thought they knew her—
had no idea…
that someone had already started watching her like she belonged to
