"You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else..."

- illicit affairs, Taylor Swift (play this song to set the mood before diving into the prologue)

"The night was supposed to end with laughter. It ended with silence, a stranger, and a missing pendant."

---

London, Five Years Ago

The last rays of sunlight spilled across the apartment, brushing the satin folds of her dress. Soft gold met softer ivory - fabric clinging in gentle waves to her frame, the off‑shoulder cut anchored by a sculpted bow across her collarbone. The pleated skirt fanned just above her knees like a poised bloom.

Aashi Verma stood barefoot on polished wooden floors, brow furrowed as she adjusted the bodice.

"This is too much," she whispered to her reflection.

Too soft. Too delicate. Too... not her.

Simran had sent it - custom‑made in a shade that melted into her skin, barely‑there elegance.

"Trust me," Simran had said.

"You need to wear something that says you're done surviving. Something that says you won."

But Aashi didn't feel like she'd won anything. Not yet. Wounds still pulsed quietly beneath her ribs - scars no medal or degree could heal.

---

Knock, knock, knock.

"Open the door, Dr. Blush!" Manya called.

Aashi sighed and crossed the room to let her in.

Simran's jaw dropped the moment she saw her.

"Stop everything. You look like you just stepped off a Vogue cover - effortless and lethal."

"Vogue?" Aashi scoffed, fighting a smile.

"Not exaggerating," Manya chimed in with a sweeping look. "You're elegance dipped in danger. And if you don't come out tonight, that dress will file a formal complaint."

Aashi crossed her arms. "That's your pitch?"

"Nope," Simran grinned. "Our best pitch is this - you deserve a night where the world sees you. Not just brilliant, but beautiful too."

"And we're going. No ifs or buts," Manya added.

---

Aashi hesitated.

"I don't really feel like clubbing-"

"Aashi," Simran interrupted gently, stepping closer, "this is the one night you get to dance for everything you survived. Don't let it slip by because you're afraid to enjoy yourself."

She turned back to the mirror.

The girl staring back didn't look broken.

She looked... almost free.

A deep breath. Then heels.

"One night," Aashi murmured.

"One night," they echoed, arms linking around her.

Her fingers brushed the pendant at her neck - a habit when she was unsure. It glinted faintly, the interlocking loops elegant, eternal. A gift from her brother, years ago, before the world got complicated.

She didn't know it wouldn't return home with her.

---

The Club

The music hit like a pulse - bass thrumming through her chest, lights strobing across her skin. Her heels tapped uncertainly at first, then with growing ease.

One drink became two. The punch was sweeter than expected - too sweet. She hadn't known Manya had slipped in something "extra."

"It's fine," Manya had whispered. "Just a splash. She deserves it."

And maybe she did. Maybe, for once, she could stop gripping life so tightly.

Her laugh rang louder than she remembered. She spun once - then stumbled.

Into someone.

"Whoa there," a voice steadied her.

She blinked up. Warm brown eyes. A half‑smile - steady yet soft around the edges, like hers. His shirt was untucked, hair mussed, the faint tang of whiskey and cologne clinging to him.

"You okay?"

"You're not a wall," she murmured.

"Not a particularly soft one, anyway," he grinned - looser, unguarded.

"Aashi," she said, still breathless.

"Shubman," he replied, offering a hand.

He didn't leer. Didn't press. Just looked at her like the room had blurred, and she was the only one still in focus.

---

The song shifted - bass deeper, lights dimmer, bodies closer.

"Dance with me?" he asked, words lilting with drink, but soft.

"I don't dance," she said automatically.

"Neither do I." He smiled crookedly. "Guess we'll be bad together."

Something about that - unpolished, honest - tugged at her. Her fingers slipped into his almost before she realized.

The crowd closed around them - faceless, nameless - yet it felt like they stood alone.

---

At first, it was clumsy - her heels catching, his shoulder bumping hers, both laughing harder than they should. Then, slowly, the rhythm found them.

His palm hovered at her waist, tentative until she didn't pull away. Her breath came quick, half from spinning lights, half from the warmth of him.

The bass thrummed against her ribs, syncing with her heartbeat - syncing with his.

One beat, she thought of stepping back.

The next, she didn't want to.

---

"You always this quiet?" he murmured, leaning close enough for her to hear.

"You always this forward?" she shot back, lips quirking despite herself.

His grin curved, boyish and reckless. "Only when I'm trying to make someone forget the world."

"Is that what this is?"

"You tell me."

---

A laugh - hers - bubbled up unexpectedly. For once, she didn't push it down.

The music swelled, the haze thickened, and somewhere between bass and heartbeat, they both stopped fighting.

His hand on her waist. Her head tipped back. A whisper became a kiss. Lights flickered, and the night vanished behind them.

---

The music swallowed them whole - a kiss, a laugh, another kiss. The crowd vanished; only the two of them remained, hearts drumming in borrowed rhythm.

Flash of cold air. Streetlights rushing past cab windows. Fingers intertwined on leather seats. A hush that felt louder than the bass they'd left behind.

Then - a door closing. A lock clicking. The world narrowing to four walls and quiet breathing.

---

Hotel Room - Night

The door clicked shut behind them, muting the thrum of the club into a distant heartbeat.

For a moment, neither moved. The silence was louder than the music had been - uneven breaths, soft laughter fading on their lips.

Her heels slipped off first, clattering to the floor. His jacket followed, careless. Somewhere between the blur of whiskey and neon lights, the edges between them dissolved.

---

Aashi's head tipped back as she laughed - freer than she'd ever heard herself.

Shubman watched her like he'd never seen light before.

"Still think you can't dance?" he murmured, voice low.

"Still think you can?" she countered, and something about their grins - crooked, reckless - made the moment tilt.

---

Fingers found fabric - satin against calloused palms. Breath mingled.

No questions. Just two strangers clinging to a night that felt like escape.

---

The room blurred - city lights spilling through half‑drawn curtains, painting gold across bare shoulders.

His hand trembled when it brushed her cheek; hers trembled when it didn't pull away.

---

And then - nothing loud, nothing rushed - just quiet surrender.

---

Morning

Light cut through the room in unforgiving slants.

Aashi stirred, her head pounding with unwelcome clarity.

The sheets tangled around her legs. Her dress was a crumpled memory on the floor. Beside her, Shubman still slept - his back turned, a curve of ink peeking over his shoulder, half‑hidden in shadow. Unreadable.

She didn't look long enough to understand it. She didn't dare.

Panic bloomed beneath her ribs.

Silently, she rose - gathered her things, careful not to wake him. She was a ghost in her own skin, slipping from the room as if she could unmake the night.

Her hand paused on the doorframe. Just for a second.

One glance over her shoulder - she almost let herself look, almost stayed. But the weight in her chest won. She left.

Everything was there.

Except her pendant.

Her hand flew to her neck.

Gone.

The one thing that had never left her - the proof of love that had asked for nothing.

She searched. Desperate. Silent.

Nothing.

With a choked breath, she left.

No note. No goodbye. Not even a second glance.

Just one last look at the stranger whose name now felt like a question -

And a night she would never speak of again.

---

Two months later, in the quiet of a bathroom with trembling hands, a test would reveal two lines.

And just like that -

the night she tried to bury...

was the one that would return to claim her.

---

✨ Author's Note ✨

Thank you so much for considering Her Field, His Pitch - if you made it through the prologue I hope something will stick with you.

This story is really special to me, and I would love to hear your feedback!

Please leave a comment, vote or just send some love - it goes a long way. 💬❤️

With all my love,

- the_stellarflower