Meera stepped through the front door of her family's sprawling house, the familiar scent of jasmine incense and warm spices wrapping around her like an old embrace, but it did little to calm the flutter in her chest. She'd been away at university for years, and now, at 21, she felt different—sharper, more alive in her skin. The hallway stretched before her, dim and hushed, until a shadow filled the space: Aarav, her brother's best friend, blocking her path with his broad shoulders and towering frame. He was 32, all hard lines and controlled power, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse skip. "You’ve grown up," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air between them, his gaze tracing the curve of her hips in her fitted dress.