7

Ashwin hummed under his breath as he moved around the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head before reaching for a mug.

Sunlight poured through the windows, painting the cozy space in a golden glow, while the scent of fresh coffee and vanilla filled the air. Everything was warm, peaceful—like something out of a dream.

Because it was.

“I hope you made enough for two,” a deep, rich voice drawled behind him.

Before Ashwin could react, a firm grip encircled his waist, pulling him against an impossibly broad chest. Heat radiated from the body behind him, strong and grounding, and he felt the familiar press of lips against the curve of his neck.

Ishaan.

The man was a furnace—big, solid, and undeniably warm. At nearly 6’4”, he towered over Ashwin, his body sculpted from muscle, broad shoulders tapering into a defined waist and powerful thighs. His presence was overwhelming in the best way, his arms thick and dusted with dark hair, his voice low and teasing.

Ashwin huffed but didn’t pull away. “Are you incapable of making your own breakfast?”

“I’m capable,” Ishaan said, voice smug. “I just prefer yours.”

Ashwin turned, his breath catching slightly as he met Ishaan’s dangerously beautiful grey eyes. They were sharp and piercing, framed by thick lashes, with an intensity that always left Ashwin feeling exposed. The man’s jawline was strong, shadowed with the faintest stubble, and his dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d just woken up.

He looked like something out of a dream.

Because he was.

Ashwin shook off the strange thought and narrowed his eyes. “That’s a convenient excuse.”

Ishaan smirked, reaching around Ashwin to pluck a pastry from the counter. “It’s not an excuse. It’s a compliment.” He took a bite, moaning exaggeratedly. “See? Delicious.”

Ashwin rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you still let me stay.”

They moved around the kitchen in an easy rhythm—Ashwin making coffee, Ishaan stealing bites of food and leaning in far too close whenever he had the chance. At one point, Ashwin reached for a plate on the top shelf, only for Ishaan to grab him by the waist and lift him effortlessly.

“Ishaan!” Ashwin yelped, gripping his shoulders.

Ishaan smirked up at him. “You’re so small.”

“I am not—” Ashwin cut off with a glare, cheeks heating when Ishaan ran his hands slowly down his thighs before setting him down.

“You’re perfect,” Ishaan corrected, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Ashwin’s cheek.

Ashwin turned away before he could react, hiding his flustered expression as they settled at the dining table. Their legs brushed beneath the table, a subtle touch neither of them acknowledged.

It was easy.

Too easy.

Ashwin let himself sink into it—the warmth, the playful teasing, the way Ishaan watched him like he was something precious. It felt real. So achingly real.

Then the doorbell rang.

Ashwin frowned. The sound was distant, out of place.

The doorbell rang again.

His stomach twisted.

And then—

He woke up.

The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by the cold air of his bedroom. Ashwin sat up abruptly, his breath uneven, his sheets tangled around him. The remnants of the dream clung to him, Ishaan’s voice still lingering in his ears.

The doorbell rang again, sharp and insistent.

Still disoriented, Ashwin stumbled out of bed and made his way to the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He opened it without thinking, only to be met with the sight of two uniformed officers standing on his porch.

His stomach dropped.

“Ashwin Lockwood?” one of them asked.

Ashwin blinked, suddenly awake. “Yeah.”

The officer nodded. “You reported Hayden Hayes missing?”

Reality slammed into him.

“Yes,” Ashwin said quickly. “He—he didn’t show up to work, and no one’s seen or heard from him. His phone goes straight to voicemail. He wouldn’t just disappear.”

The officers exchanged a glance before the taller one—Officer Neilsson, Ashwin realized, someone he’d known since he was a teenager—spoke again.

“We just wanted to follow up,” Neilsson said, his expression softening. “You know how it is. Small town, people disappear for a day or two, and they turn up later with some story about getting lost in the woods or their car breaking down.”

“This isn’t like that,” Ashwin insisted, gripping the edge of the door. “Hayden wouldn’t vanish like this.”

The officers studied him carefully.

“I know this is hard,” Neilsson said after a moment. “Especially since—” He hesitated. “Since Mary raised you both.”

A lump formed in Ashwin’s throat.

Hayden’s grandmother, Mary Hayes, had been the one to take him in. She’d raised him like her own, alongside Hayden, treating them both with a kindness that Ashwin had never experienced before.

She’d been his home.

And now she was gone, leaving only Hayden.

And now Hayden was missing.

Ashwin swallowed hard, nodding stiffly.

Neilsson sighed. “We’ll do everything we can to find him.”

Ashwin barely processed the rest of the conversation, his thoughts spinning. He answered their questions as best as he could, his stomach twisting with each passing second.

Movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention.

Ishaan.

He stood near the staircase, his large frame partially shadowed, watching silently. Ishaan’s gaze shifted, smoothing into something concerned as he stepped forward.

“Is everything okay?” Ishaan asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

The officers turned to him, their eyes scanning over his massive frame. Ishaan was impossible to ignore—broad, muscular, and imposing, with thick arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair was slightly tousled, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by the morning light.

The cops studied him, clearly taking in every detail.

“And you are?” Neilsson asked.

“Ishaan,” he answered smoothly. “I just moved in.”

The officers exchanged another glance before nodding. “We’ll be in touch,” Neilsson said to Ashwin. “Call if you remember anything.”

They left without another word.

The moment the door closed, Ashwin exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against the wood. His hands trembled slightly, his mind racing.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder.

Ashwin turned, finding himself face-to-face with Ishaan’s piercing grey eyes. The man’s expression was unreadable, his fingers firm yet oddly comforting where they rested against Ashwin’s skin.

“Breathe,” Ishaan murmured.

Ashwin swallowed, forcing air into his lungs.

“I’ll help you look for him,” Ishaan said, his voice steady. “We’ll find him.”

There was something so certain about the way he said it, like it wasn’t even a question.

Ashwin didn’t know why, but hearing those words—coming from Ishaan of all people—made him feel just a little less alone.

He nodded.

And for the first time since waking up, he let himself believe it.