6

Ashwin wasn’t sure what made him finally agree, but here he was, standing in his small two-bedroom bungalow, leading Ishaan through the house while trying to ignore the heavy, heated gaze on his back.

He had dressed comfortably, unaware he’d be giving someone a tour of his home—loose, oversized tee hanging off his shoulders and shorts that hugged his thighs in a way that made Ishaan’s attention linger far too long. It wasn’t just that Ishaan was looking. It was how he was looking.

Every time Ashwin turned, Ishaan’s grey eyes flickered, shifting between their normal shade and something… different. Slitted. Like a predator watching prey.

“This is the living room,” Ashwin said, motioning to the space with its deep brown leather couch and bookshelves lining the walls. “Kitchen’s through there.”

Ishaan hummed, his voice low, deep, and appreciative. “Cozy.”

Ashwin moved toward the hallway, leading Ishaan further inside. “Your room would be this one.” He gestured toward the door beside his own, pushing it open.

The space was simple—wooden floors, a bed against the far wall, a desk, and a dresser. The window overlooked the small backyard, where a tall oak tree stood with its branches stretching toward the sky.

Ishaan stepped inside, running a hand along the dresser’s surface. “Perfect.”

Ashwin wasn’t sure why the word sent a shiver down his spine. Maybe it was the way Ishaan said it, like he wasn’t just talking about the room.

Ashwin leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as Ishaan walked further into the room. “I’ll give you time to decide. If you need—”

“I’ve already decided.” Ishaan’s voice was smooth, unwavering.

Ashwin raised a brow. “You haven’t even seen the bathroom.”

Ishaan chuckled, his gaze dropping briefly—lower than Ashwin liked. “I trust your taste.”

Ashwin cleared his throat, pushing off the doorframe. “Bathroom’s down the hall. It’s shared, so try not to take forever in there.”

Ishaan followed him out, eyes roaming over Ashwin’s body as they walked. The oversized shirt did nothing to hide the shape of him—long, toned legs, plush thighs, and those shorts that clung just right.

By the time they reached the hallway, Ishaan’s fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to touch. To press into the warmth of Ashwin’s skin.

Instead, he asked, “So, how long have you lived here?”

Ashwin hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “A while.”

“Grew up in this town?”

Ashwin’s fingers curled slightly. “Sort of.”

Ishaan caught the flicker of hesitation, the way Ashwin’s posture stiffened just a little. There was something guarded there, something untold.

“You don’t sound sure,” Ishaan noted, watching him carefully.

Ashwin exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t remember much of my childhood. I was adopted by an older woman. She passed away a few years ago.”

Ishaan tilted his head. “That must have been hard.”

Ashwin didn’t answer right away. “It was. But she was good to me.”

There was a strange silence between them, something lingering in the air. Ishaan’s gaze softened, but there was still that intensity beneath it—the slow, deliberate way he watched Ashwin.

Ashwin leaned against the hallway wall, arms loosely crossed. “What about you? You know a lot about me already, but I don’t know a thing about you.”

Ishaan smirked, shifting his weight as his eyes dragged over Ashwin’s body again—lingering, slow and deliberate. His gaze followed the curve of Ashwin’s thighs, the hem of his shorts that hugged the soft swell of his ass. If Ashwin noticed, he didn’t react, but Ishaan’s pupils flickered between normal and slitted as he fought the urge to stare outright.

“There’s not much to know,” Ishaan finally said.

“Try me.”

Ishaan hummed, pretending to consider before he finally answered. “I moved from a very small village. Big families were common there. I was the firstborn out of eleven brothers.”

Ashwin blinked, his lips parting slightly. “Eleven?”

Ishaan nodded, amused by his reaction. “Our house was always loud. My mother—she was strong. Raising that many sons wasn’t easy, but she did it.”

Ashwin tilted his head, watching Ishaan’s expression. For a moment, it softened, like he was lost in a distant memory.

“And your father?”

Ishaan’s smirk returned. “Let’s just say, I take after him and yes, I had a lover."

"I didn't ask," Ashwin scoffed.

"But you were curious," Ishaan’s smile flickered slightly.

Ashwin hesitated before pressing, “What happened?”

There was a brief pause. Then Ishaan answered smoothly, “She left.”

Ashwin frowned. “Why?”

Ishaan’s lips curved slightly, but there was no humor in his voice. “Because I wasn’t enough for her.”

The answer unsettled Ashwin, though he wasn’t sure why. He opened his mouth—to ask what he meant, to say something, anything—but his phone suddenly rang, cutting through the moment like a knife.

A frown pulled at his brows. He pulled it out of his pocket, checking the caller ID.

Mount Haven Clinic.

The uneasy feeling from earlier crept back into his stomach.

Why would they be calling him this late?

He quickly answered. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end was urgent. “Ashwin? Why didn’t you come in for your checkup today?”

His body stiffened. “What? I—what do you mean? I was scheduled for tomorrow.”

“No, you were scheduled for today. You never called to cancel, and Dr. Hayes hasn’t been in either. We’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering.”

Ashwin’s grip on the phone tightened. Hayden? Not answering?

That wasn’t like him.

A strange tension settled in his chest. “I—” His voice faltered. His fingers clenched around the phone. “I’ll call him. I’ll let you know if I reach him.”

He barely registered the voice on the other end saying goodbye before he hung up and immediately tried dialing Hayden’s number.

It rang. And rang.

And then—nothing.

No answer.

He tried again. Still nothing.

A cold feeling crept through his veins.

His fingers trembled slightly as he scrolled through his contacts, calling anyone who might know where Hayden was.

Each call ended the same way.

No one had seen him. No one had heard from him.

His breath came faster. His pulse pounded.

And through it all, Ishaan stood there, watching him.

Not saying a word.

Not blinking.

Just watching.

Ashwin swallowed hard, realization beginning to dawn on him.

Something was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

“Where the hell is he?” Ashwin whispered under his breath, pacing slightly as he redialed Hayden’s number for what felt like the tenth time. The call went straight to voicemail.

He tried sending a text.

Hayden, call me. Where are you?

Nothing.

His chest felt tight. The air in the room suddenly felt too thick.

Ishaan finally spoke, his voice low. “He’s missing?”

Ashwin glanced up at him, startled.

Ishaan’s expression was unreadable, but his gaze was steady. Calculating.

“I don’t know.” Ashwin ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I mean, maybe he just—” He cut himself off. No. Hayden wouldn’t just disappear. He was responsible. Reliable. He wouldn’t just forget to come to work, and he sure as hell wouldn’t ignore his phone.

Ishaan took a slow step closer. “Maybe something happened to him.”

The words sent a shiver down Ashwin’s spine.

He knew Ishaan wasn’t wrong. The pit in his stomach was growing heavier by the second.

His mind reeled through possibilities, none of them good.

Car accident? No, the clinic would’ve known.

Sick? Maybe, but then why wasn’t he answering his phone?

Something else?

Something worse?

Ashwin’s throat went dry.

Ishaan tilted his head, studying him. His eyes flickered again—gray and piercing, then slitted and dark.

“You care for him.”

Ashwin barely registered the statement. His fingers clenched around his phone, his breathing unsteady.

Where the hell are you, Hayden?