She turned twenty the day she moved in.
No cake. No candles. No celebration.
Just a silent car ride with a man who barely looked at her.
Rhea Singh used to imagine her 20th birthday would feel like freedom.
But this? This felt like a prison with glass walls and locked doors.
A new house.
A new life.
And a guardian who looked at her like she was a problem he hadn’t asked for.
---
Dev Raichand had always been a name she heard in passing — a business partner of her father, the quiet man at the back of family functions, the one no one ever dared approach.
She never imagined she’d be living with him.
But the will was clear.
If anything ever happened to her parents…
She belonged to him.
Not legally.
Not romantically.
Just guardianship. Cold. Binding. Heavy.
---
He didn’t speak on the drive.
Just gripped the wheel tight, like he was holding back more than just words.
Rhea sat beside him, too aware of the silence.
Too aware of the way he smelled — like cedarwood and storm.
Too aware of the fact that she wasn’t a child anymore.
Not today.
“You sure about this?” Aarav had asked, handing over the final papers.
“The will made it non-negotiable,” Dev had replied.
“She’s not a kid forever, Dev.”
“I know,” he’d said. Too fast. Too quietly.
___
The house looked like Dev.
Minimal. Cold. Expensive.
Not a single picture on the walls. Not a single personal touch.
Just space and silence and rooms that echoed when she walked through them.
“Your room’s upstairs. Third door on the right,” he said, tossing her a key.
“That’s it? No ‘Welcome home’? No birthday cupcake?”
“Happy birthday,” he muttered, turning away. “Now go unpack.”
---
The room was beautiful.
Big bed. Soft pillows. Neutral tones.
But it didn’t feel like hers.
Not yet.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the box in her lap — a tiny thing her mother had wrapped before she died.
“Don’t open until your twenty,” the tag read.
Rhea opened it with shaking hands.
Inside was a bracelet.
Delicate. Silver. Engraved with two words:
Be brave.
She smiled through the sting in her chest.
Then slipped it on her wrist and stood up.
---
The hallway outside her room was quiet.
Too quiet.
She wandered a little, feet light against the polished floors.
Stopped when she heard it — faint music. A low, instrumental hum from the room at the end of the hall.
His room.
The door was slightly open, warm light spilling out.
She hesitated.
Then knocked. Twice.
“Dev?”
The door creaked open wider.
He stood there.
T-shirt clinging to his chest.
Hair slightly messy. Eyes sharp.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying,” she said. “Just came to say thanks.”
“For what?”
“For taking me in. Giving me a room. Not ruining my birthday more than it already is.”
He said nothing for a moment.
Just stared at her like she was something confusing — like he wasn’t sure if she was trouble… or temptation.
“You’re twenty now,” he said finally. Voice low. Controlled.
“Yeah. Since midnight.”
“That changes things.”
“How?”
He stepped closer, slowly.
Not threatening.
Just… deliberate.
“You’re not a child anymore.”
She tilted her head slightly, her voice softer.
Curious. Not coy.
“Does that scare you?” she questioned giving a mischievous smile
Dev’s jaw tightened. His eyes darkened.
“It should scare you, Rhea.”
Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t step back.
Didn’t blink.
“Why?” she whispered. “Afraid of what you’ll do?”
His voice dropped as he came closer to her
“Afraid of what I want to do.”
The air between them shifted.
Tense. Heated Like gravity had tilted — and she was the center of his storm.
For a heartbeat, it felt like he might lean in.
Might touch her.
Might kiss her.
But then — he stepped back.
Expression shuttered.
He didn’t say another word.
Just closed the door. And turned the lock. She stared at the wood for a second. Heart hammering in her chest.Fingers brushing the silver bracelet like it was armor. Be brave.
It was her eighteenth birthday And Dev Raichand had just become the most dangerous gift she’d ever unwrapped.
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