Chapter 3 – Juice & Shadows

The sun was dipping low, painting Jayanagar in shades of gold and dust when Poornima arrived. The familiar little juice centre buzzed with chatter, vendors calling out, and the faint scent of fresh fruit filling the air.

And there he was.

Leaning against his black car, cigarette between his fingers, his presence was as sharp as ever. Veeresh Rathore didn’t belong here — in this ordinary street, among college kids and office workers. He looked like power itself had stepped down to earth, and yet, he waited. For her.

Poornima’s brows drew together as she walked closer.

“You will never change,” she muttered, her eyes flicking disapprovingly to the smoke curling between his lips.

He exhaled slowly, his dark eyes locking on hers.

“Order,” he said flatly, ignoring her scolding tone.

Poornima sighed, but the corners of her lips curved into a smile anyway. She moved to the counter, her voice warm and familiar as she placed the order.

“One mosambi juice… and one kiwi milkshake.”

Veeresh smirked faintly — she always remembered.

They sat at the small plastic table in the corner, the world around them fading into background noise. For a few seconds, silence stretched between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Then his gaze darkened, tracing the curve of her saree, and his voice dropped low.

“Today… your hip was visible too much.”

Poornima choked slightly, eyes widening. “Damn it, Veeresh… the saree is like that!” she protested, flustered, her cheeks heating.

But he didn’t let it go.

Without warning, he leaned closer, fingers catching the end of her pallu. In one fluid motion, he adjusted it around her waist, hiding the sliver of skin from view. His touch was possessive, claiming, as if the street, the people, the world didn’t exist.

Her heart hammered. His glare was sharp, but his action spoke louder than words.

When the waiter placed the drinks on their table, Poornima let out a nervous laugh, breaking the tension. She pushed the kiwi milkshake toward him.

“Drink before it melts, Lucifer,” she teased.

His lips twitched, but he said nothing, sipping silently.

And there, in that tiny juice centre in Jayanagar, Lucifer drank milkshake and an angel drank mosambi juice — as if it was the most natural thing in the world.