The St. Louis College campus buzzed with excitement as Valentine’s week began. The air smelled of fresh flowers, chocolates, and the sweet anticipation of romance. Red and pink decorations adorned the corridors, and students ran around with roses in their hands, either nervously awaiting to confess their feelings or simply celebrating love in all its forms.
In the midst of this cheerful chaos stood Swayam Shekhawat—the eternal lover, the boy with eyes that spoke a thousand emotions, the one who had loved Sharon Rai Prakash with a devotion that never wavered. He held a single red rose in his hand, his fingers tightening around the stem as he took a deep breath. Today was Rose Day, the perfect excuse to express his love in a way that was both simple and profound.
But there was one problem—Sharon.
The diva of the college. The girl whose presence alone could make heads turn. The one who kept everyone at a distance, yet unknowingly held his heart in the palm of her hand. They had shared moments—intense, beautiful, confusing—but she always pulled away before they could truly become something more.
"Tu usse rose dega?" Rey asked, raising an amused eyebrow as he folded his arms.
Swayam nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. "Haan. Iss baar main nahi rukhunga. Yeh sirf ek phool nahi hai, Rey. Yeh meri feelings ka ek chhota sa expression hai. Usse accept karna hai ya nahi, woh uski choice hai… par main apni taraf se pura dene wala hoon."
Rey smirked, patting Swayam’s shoulder. "Bro, tujhme jo jazba hai na, woh kisi aur mein nahi hai. Best of luck!"
Sharon leaned against the railing of the rehearsal hall, watching the flurry of activity below. Girls giggled, boys tried to act confident while handing out roses, and some dramatic rejections echoed in the air.
She sighed.
Valentine’s week had never been her thing. Love was complicated. Messy. A distraction. At least, that’s what she told herself.
And yet…
Her gaze subconsciously drifted to the entrance of the atrium, where he stood. Swayam Shekhawat.
Dressed in his signature white shirt and denim, with that soft, unwavering expression that made her heart do the very thing she despised—flutter. She saw the rose in his hand and instantly knew.
He’s going to give it to me.
A strange restlessness gripped her. Did she want him to? Did she want to stop him? Or did she just want to run away before she did something stupid—like accept it?
Before she could decide, he started walking toward her.
Swayam climbed the stairs of the rehearsal hall, each step measured, purposeful. Sharon straightened, crossing her arms, feigning indifference.
"Sharon," he said, his voice soft yet steady.
She tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. "Hmm?"
Swayam held out the rose. "Happy Rose Day."
A single breath hitched in her throat. The deep red petals looked beautiful, almost poetic, against his open palm. His eyes—earnest, warm, completely unguarded—watched her, waiting, hoping.
Sharon scoffed lightly, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Swayam, you do realize I don't do these cliché romantic things, right?"
"I know." His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Aur main yeh bhi jaanta hoon ki tum jitna deny karo, tumhe koi na koi rose toh zaroor dega aaj."
She pursed her lips. He wasn’t wrong.
"So?" She asked, tilting her head. "Agar main kisi aur se rose le lu toh?"
Swayam’s jaw clenched for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked it with a chuckle. "Phir bhi, main yeh dene se pehle nahi rukhne wala. Kyunki yeh sirf ek rose nahi hai, Sharon… yeh ek sawaal hai. Jo tum abhi answer do ya nahi, yeh tumhari marzi."
For the first time, she found herself at a loss for words.
The tension between them stretched, thick and unspoken.
Finally, she reached out—her fingers barely brushing against the petals before she hesitated.
Her heart pounded. Accepting it meant something. It meant acknowledging that he mattered. That they mattered.
Instead, she smirked, stepping back. "Nice try, Swayam. But I don’t play these games."
His expression remained unchanged, but there was something in his eyes—something that said he understood.
And just like that, she turned and walked away.
But not before stealing one last glance at the rose still in his hand.
Swayam sighed, watching her leave. Rey came up behind him, shaking his head. "Mujhe laga tu disappoint hoga."
Swayam chuckled, twirling the rose in his fingers. "Sharon ne rose nahi liya, but uske expressions sab keh gaye. Woh haar nahi maanti, par haarne se darti bhi hai. Kab tak?"
Rey grinned. "Toh agli baar phir try karega?"
Swayam’s lips curled into a smirk. "Har baar."
As he walked away, he placed the rose on Sharon’s locker, knowing she would see it.
Because love wasn't about grand gestures. It was about persistence.
And he had all the patience in the world.
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