#article 375

Pairing: Tarun Saluja x reader

T.W: Based on Tarun Saluja from Article 375

CHAPTER 1

You had only come to drop off lunch for your father,

The tiffin was still warm in your hands, and at this point, you were told lunch break would be at 1:00pm but you've already been waiting for an whole hour.

You shifted your weight slightly, glancing at the closed doors of Courtroom 3 again before checking your phone.

“Yaar...Kiti vel lavat ahet, tch...", you muttered under your breath, the impatience slipping out quietly. (Tch, they are taking so long)

A few seconds later, the doors opened.

People began stepping out in small groups, their conversations continuing from inside in low, controlled voices. You straightened instinctively, scanning the crowd for your father, he wasn’t among the first to exit.

Instead, someone slowed down near you.

“Excuse me.”

His voice was calm and direct, not loud, but enough to pull your attention.

You looked up. “Yes?”,you said, adjusting the tiffin slightly in your hands, your tone neutral but attentive.

He glanced briefly at what you were holding, then back at you.

“Are you waiting for someone?”,he asked, his expression steady, like he was confirming a simple fact.

“My father-”,you replied, shifting your grip on the tiffin.

“Name?”,he asked, without hesitation, as if it was the obvious next step.

“Justice Madgaonkar,” you said, watching him more closely this time.

There was a brief pause, you could tell he knows your father,

“He’s still inside,” he said, his tone unchanged.

You let out a small breath.

“Haan, woh toh dikh raha hai,”

you said lightly, your eyes flicking toward the courtroom doors again.

A short silence followed. He didn’t leave, and you didn’t immediately disengage either.

“Long hearing?” you asked after a second, more out of boredom than curiosity.

“Yes,” he replied, simply.

You looked at him properly then.

“Bas?” you said, a faint hint of amusement slipping in.

He seemed to consider that for a moment.

“It got complicated towards the end”

he added, the slight shift making his answer feel more deliberate.

You nodded slowly.

“Sounds like something went wrong” you said, studying him a little more now.

“Depends on which lens you're looking at the case with.” he replied, his tone even, quite composed.

You gave a small huff of amusement.

“That’s still a lawyer answer,” you pointed out, adjusting the tiffin again.

He acknowledged it without resistance.

“Occupational hazard i guess” he said, the faintest dryness in his voice.

That actually made you smile, just slightly.

Before you could say anything else, the courtroom doors opened again.

Your father steps out, straightning his robes

“Baba!” you called, trying to get his attentions

Justice Madgaonkar looked at you, mildly surprised.

“Tu ithe kay kartes?” he asked, his brows tightening slightly. (What are you doing here)

“Lunch anla ahe” you said, holding up the tiffin.(I've brought lunch)

He nodded and reached for it. “Theek ahe, mi nantar khain—” he began, already half-turning.(Ok, I'll eat it later-

“Nahi, aai ni sagitle ahe, atthach khaiche.” you insisted, pressing it into his hands before he could dismiss it. (No mother told me to, make you eat right now)

He took it, but his attention shifted almost immediately.

To the man standing beside you.

“Mr. Saluja.”

You glanced between them.

The name didn’t mean anything yet.

The tone did.

Tarun inclined his head slightly.

“Your Honour” ,he said, his voice exactly the same as before,calm, controlled.

Your father held Tarun's gaze.

“I trust today’s proceedings have made certain boundaries clear” ,he said, his tone measured but firm.

You didn’t fully understand what that meant, but it was clearly not casual.

“They have” ,Tarun replied, without hesitation.

“Ensure they remain clear”, your father added, the authority in his voice unmistakable.

“Of course”, Tarun said, just as evenly.

There was a brief pause before your father turned back to you.

“Chala” he said, already moving.(Come on)

You nodded and followed him, but as you walked away, you glanced back once.

Tarun had already stepped aside, moving on like the interaction hadn’t mattered.

_________________________________________________

A Few Minutes Later

You had just turned into another corridor after handing over the lunch when you walked straight into someone.

“Sorry—” you started, stepping back...

then stopped.

“Oh— you again” ,you said, a little embarrassed this time.

He looked at you, recognising you immediately.

“You’re done?” he asked, his tone neutral but attentive.

“Yeah”, you said, nodding once.

“Delivery successful.”

He glanced at his watch briefly.

“It’s past two”,he said, more like an observation than a comment.

You frowned slightly.

“Okay…?”,you replied, unsure what he meant.

“You brought food,”

he said, looking at you again,

“but you didn’t eat.”

You paused, caught off guard.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you admitted.

He held your gaze for a moment.

“You should,” he said, simply.

You crossed your arms lightly.

“Aur aapko kaise pata ki mujhe bhook lagi hai?”,you asked, a faint challenge in your tone.

“You’ve been waiting outside a courtroom for over an hour,” he replied.

“That usually covers it.”

You let out a small breath, almost amused.

“That’s a very calculated assumption,” you said.

“It’s not that complicated,” he said, like the conclusion was obvious.

A brief pause followed.

Then,

“The canteen’s open,” he added, more practically than anything else.

You raised a brow. “You’re inviting me to lunch?” you asked, still slightly unsure.

“Yes..” he said, without overexplaining.

You stared at him for a second.

There was no hidden tone. No awkwardness. No agenda you could read.

So you nodded.

“Fine let's go”

_________________________________________________

The canteen was louder than the corridor, more relaxed but still full of the same people. Lawyers sat in groups, eating, arguing, discussing cases in between bites. The space felt lived-in, like this was where the formal structure of the courtroom loosened just enough.

He walked in like he belonged there.

You sat across from him, looking around.

“Yahan ka khaana acha hota hai?” you asked.

“It’s decent,” he said, a more normal answer this time.

You nodded. “Good enough,” you murmured.

A waiter came by. He ordered quickly, then looked at you.

You added something simple.

A moment of quiet settled.

Then you leaned forward slightly.

“Waise… aap ho kaun?” you asked.

He looked at you directly.

“Advocate Tarun Saluja”

He shakes her hand as if talking to a client.

You nodded slowly. “Main—”

“I know” ,he said.

“You told me.”

You paused, then exhaled lightly. “Right.”

Around you, the noise of the canteen continued, but your table felt oddly still,

You picked up your glass, taking a small sip just to break the stillness.

“Saluja…”,you repeated faintly, like you were trying to place it somewhere.

He glanced up this time, not ignoring it.

“Haan” ,he said lightly, almost like confirming something obvious, before going back to his plate.

That small response shifted something, He wasn’t shutting the conversation down.

Just… not stretching it unnecessarily.

You watched him for a second.

“Aap kafi direct ho...”,you said, your tone casual, but your eyes still a little curious.

He looked up again, this time properly.

“Aur ye...Acchi cheez he ya buri?” he asked, the question coming easier than before, like he didn’t mind engaging now.

You smiled faintly.

“Depends” ,you said, echoing him from earlier without realising it.

That got the slightest reaction, a hint of amusement, barely visible but there.

“Fair enough,” he said, leaning back a little in his chair, more relaxed now.

You rested your elbow lightly on the table.

“Aap har baat itni carefully bolte ho?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

He let out a short breath,almost a quiet laugh.

“Nahi,” he said, shaking his head once. “Bas aadat hai thoda filter rakhne ki.”

You nodded.

“Court ka effect?” you asked.

“Partly,” he said, then added after a second, “baaki logon ka bhi.”

You raised a brow. “Matlab?”

“Zyada bol do toh log yaad rakh lete hain,” he said, his tone casual, like it wasn’t a big statement, just something he’d noticed over time.

You considered that for a second, then nodded slowly. “That’s quite true, I must say”, you admitted.

A brief quiet settled again, but it wasn’t stiff this time.

You tapped your fingers lightly against the table.

“Toh aaj…ka hearing ‘complicated’ ho gaya tha kya?” you asked, bringing it back, but more lightly now.

He exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly.

“Hota rehta hai” ,he said, like it wasn’t worth overexplaining.

You narrowed your eyes slightly.

“That doesn’t sound convincing” ,you said, watching him.

He glanced at you, a little amused now. “Aapko convincing answer chahiye ya honest?” ,he asked.

You paused.

“Honest,” you said after a second.

He nodded once.

“Thoda messy tha,” he admitted, his tone more open now, like he didn’t mind saying it plainly.

You leaned back slightly, satisfied with that.

“Better,” you said.

A waiter dropped the bill on the table.

You reached for it instinctively.

“Main—” you started.

He picked it up at the same time.

“Relax,” he said, a little more casual now, almost dismissing the formality.

You frowned slightly.

“Split kar lete hain,” you insisted.

He shook his head lightly. “Next time,” he said, without thinking too much about it.

You paused.

“Next time?” you repeated, raising a brow, a hint of a smile forming.

He seemed to realise what he’d said a second too late.

“Matlab… agar kabhi,” he corrected, but there was no real urgency in it, just a quiet adjustment.

You let out a soft laugh.

“Smooth,” you said.

He shook his head slightly, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You stood up, adjusting your bag.

“Still,” you said, looking at him,

“lunch acha tha.”

He stood as well, more relaxed than when you’d first met him.

“Haan, decent tha,” he said, like the rating hadn’t changed.

You took a step back.

“Thanks,” you added, meaning more than just the food.

He nodded once.

“Anytime,” he said,casual, unforced.

You paused at that.

You shook your head, still smiling, then turned to leave.

_________________________________________________

6:00pm, MADGAONKAR RESDIENCE, MUMBAI

You finally return home, it had been a long day, between the going to court in afternoon to attending college lectures.

You dropped your bag onto your bed and sat down, staring at the wall for a moment longer than necessary. The moment with Tarun should’ve ended when you walked out of court. It should’ve stayed small, just a visit, just another afternoon.

But it hadn’t.

Something about it had stayed with you. This Tarun guy was quite the interesting character, and there was just something appealing about the man.

You stood up abruptly, restless in a way you couldn’t quite explain, and stepped out of your room.

The house felt too still.

As you passed the living room, you saw your father, sitting with his phone pressed to his ear, his posture straight, his expression unreadable from a distance. His voice carried faintly, low and controlled, the kind of tone that meant he was choosing every word carefully.

You slowed down for half a second, instinctively listening, but the conversation was too measured to catch anything meaningful.

So you kept walking.

You didn’t plan to stop outside his study.

But you did...

The door wasn’t fully closed. Just slightly open, enough to show the edge of his desk, the neat stacks of files, the familiar stillness of a room that wasn’t meant for casual entry.

You stood there for a moment, your hand hovering near the door without touching it.

You knew better.

You’d always known better.

And yet,

you pushed it open.

The study felt different the moment you stepped in, as if the air itself carried a certain weight. The faint smell of paper and polished wood lingered, clean and controlled, just like everything else in the room. Nothing was out of place. Files were stacked in multiple drawers and shelfs, books aligned precisely, and the desk held only what was necessary, no clutter, no distractions.

“I’m just looking,” you murmured under your breath, more out of habit than belief, as if saying it made the act less deliberate.

Your eyes moved across the desk slowly, taking in the arrangement without really searching for anything specific.

Until something stood out.

A file on your father's desk,

It wasn’t misplaced, but it wasn’t fully put away either. It sat slightly apart from the others, its position suggesting it had been used recently and would be used again soon.

That alone was enough.

You stepped closer, your movements quieter now, your fingers brushing lightly against the edge before you picked it up.

The title confirmed what you already suspected.

This was the case, he was presiding over when she arrived to the court.

You opened it carefully, almost instinctively aware of not disturbing anything more than necessary.

Inside, the pages were dense with information, typed documents layered with handwritten annotations in your father’s sharp, precise script. Entire sections were underlined, arguments circled, notes added in the margins with clarity that came from years of habit.

You flipped through slowly, your eyes moving across the text without fully processing it, catching fragments instead, phrases, names, legal terms, even if you didn’t fully understand their implications

You leaned in slightly, adjusting your grip as your eyes scanned the layout, As you flipped the page you noticed,

There was this...formal document,

A listing of counsels.

Names arranged neatly, each paired with their roles, their details, their place within the case.

Your gaze moved down the page, unhurried at first

until it wasn’t.

Tarun Saluja.

Your eyes lingered there longer than necessary before shifting, almost automatically, to the right side of the page, to the Contact details.

And there It was...his number.

Printed clearly, without hesitation, part of a document that was never meant to leave this room.

You shouldn’t do this....

The thought came immediately, sharp and clear.

This wasn’t yours.

This wasn’t information you were meant to take.

But still... you didn’t close the file.

Your gaze stayed fixed on the number, tracing it once, then again, as if committing it to memory would somehow be different from writing it down.

It wasn’t, You knew that, but Your hand moved anyway.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, the screen lighting up too brightly in the quiet of the room. For a brief second, you hesitated, your thumb hovering as if giving yourself one last chance to stop.

Then you unlocked it.

Carefully, deliberately, you typed the number exactly as it appeared.

Your thumb paused for a fraction of a second before moving again—

this time to save it.

Then you typed:

Tarun Saluja

For a moment, you just stood there, your phone still in your hand, the contact now sitting quietly among the others like it had always been there.

You locked your phone slowly and slipped it back into your pocket, the weight of it suddenly more noticeable than before.

Only then did you look back down at the file.

You closed it carefully, aligning the edges exactly the way they had been, placing it back in the same position with a level of precision you didn’t usually bother with.

Nothing out of place.

Nothing disturbed.

You stepped back, your eyes scanning the desk one last time to make sure everything looked exactly as it had when you walked in.

______________________________________________

Happy b'day to me and Akshaye Khanna 👅

Based on a request by @y0uneversawmehere

Pairing:Tarun Saluja x reader

T.W:Based on Tarun Saluja from Article 375, contains some smut

Part- ii

The bass was thumping, the music so loud the floor trembled with each beat. Bodies swayed under flashing lights, some dancing, some laughing too loud, others already stumbling through the crowd. It was a graduation party, and everyone was letting go after years of stress. You’d tried to stay grounded, sipping slowly on your drink, but one turned into two, then someone shoved a glittery pink cocktail into your hand with cheers ringing around you.

“Just one more!", Your best friend shouted over the music before pulling you into the middle of it all.

You laughed,really laughed, and danced until sweat stuck your shirt to your back and time blurred.

Then came that announcement:

"Ladies and gentlemen… due to regulations on alcohol consumption after midnight on public holidays… we regretfully ask everyone to vacate peacefully."

Groans filled the club as bouncers started guiding people out. Cabs? None available till morning. Your house wasn’t far, just twenty minutes by car if traffic stayed light.

“I’ll drive myself”, you said aloud to no one in particular as you grabbed your bag from under a booth seat.

Your fingers tightened around your keys as you stepped out into the cool night air…

Red and blue lights flashed behind you like an angry pulse in the dark just five minutes down the road.

You sighed but pulled over without protest, rolling down your window as an officer approached.

“Madam” ,he asked flatly after explaining why they'd stopped, and added,

“Tumhi...piyun chalvat ahat gadi...?” (are you driving after drinking)

“nahi me-" (no, i-)

He nodded.

“Tari aplyala breathalyzer ni check karayla lagnar.” (we still need to check, using a breathalyzer)

The machine beeped twice before showing red numbers above legal limit, a tiny infraction for most cities but still enough for roadside detention protocol kicking in, temporary impound until sobriety clearance or authorized escort arrival within two hours otherwise station processing begins...

One phone call allowed per detainee during this window...

Inside dim roadside booth, not jail exactly more like holding cubicle made plastic chairs fluorescent light flickering overhead , you sat gripping phone hard enough knuckles white,

Thumb hovered over father's contact name the phone screen glowing bright,

But you imagined his face after seeing his daughter arrested drunk driving...the lecture would echo walls of the house for weeks maybe even months.

Then stoppped dead mid-scroll...

Tarun Saluja

Should you even call him?

Would he even answer?

And how do you even explain having his number without sounding like weird stalker child caught stealing secrets from dad’s case file???

Heart thudded louder than club beats ever did,

Your thumb hovered over his name...

And then pressed call,

It rang once… twice…

This low voice came through the phone, wrapped in sleepiness,

"Hello?"

Relief crashed through chest like tide breaking shore,

“Hey Tarun, It’s me,” You whispered fast heartbeat shaking voice

“Madgaonkar’s daughter, Y/N, know it's late but uhh I wouldn't be calling unless I really needed help…”

Silence, for half second longer than comfortable, but then quiet inhale answered instead dismissal,

“What happened?” His tone wasn’t annoyed, he sounded alert now fully awake regardless of the time.

“The police stopped me,”

Voice cracked slightly,

"I drank, a little, not much, I just wanted go home…”

Another pause, then he spoke up in his still calm voice,

“Stay exactly where u are.”

Click

Twenty-three minutes later headlights cut foggy night air outside.

Tarun's black Mercedes pulled up smoothly, hair slightly tousled from the wind, one hand still buttoning the dark blue shirt he must’ve thrown on in a hurry. He wasn’t wearing a tie. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms dusted with faint hair and a simple silver watch slipping down his wrist.

No coat. No briefcase. Just black pants, clean-cut but undeniably casual and shoes that looked more lived in than polished.

He stepped out of the car, in a bit of a hurry,

You saw him pause for just a second before walking into the police outpost, adjusting his phone in his pocket, running fingers once through his hair as if reminding himself, “Right. This is real."

When he came back outside with you moments later, after quiet words and a signature on some papers, the air between you felt different.

Warmer.

Less formal.

“Thanks”, you said again once you were standing beside his car, voice softer now that adrenaline was fading.

“I… didn’t know who else to call.”

He nodded slowly, eyes holding yours in that quiet way again, not judging, not lecturing.

“You could’ve called your dad.”

You winced slightly.

“Yeah… and get him mad and disappointed? In one go? No thanks.”

A small huff escaped him, almost laughter, but it died quickly into something gentler.

“Still”, he said softly,

“you drove after drinking.”

“I know,” you admitted quietly.

“I thought I was okay… It wasn’t much…”

“But it was enough.”, His voice wasn't harsh, it carried concern wrapped in calmness instead of judgment.

You looked down at your shoes scuffed from dancing earlier then back up at him under dim streetlight halo buzzing overhead

“That’s why I called you” ,you said slowly and maybe too honestly

"Because I knew you wouldn't yell... or tell my father immediately."

He held your gaze longer than necessary then let out an exhale through his nose, the closest thing to laughter since arriving

You slid into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car wrapping around you like a sigh. The scent, sandalwood and something faintly spicy, felt too intimate now that you were sitting in it, breathing it in.

The engine purred to life, but neither of you moved.

Outside, the world was quiet, just an empty road considering it was quite late, and the hum of night. Inside? Thick with something unspoken.

Then

He turned slightly toward you, one hand still on the wheel, eyes searching yours in that way that made your chest tighten.

“You saved my number,” he said quietly, not accusing. Not teasing. Just… curious. Like he’d been turning it over in his head since stepping out of his car.

You swallowed.

“Yeah…”

A beat passed.

Then he asked, voice low and honest,

“How did you even get it?”

That hit harder than expected.

Your breath caught, just slightly and your fingers curled against your knee as guilt flickered across your face before you could stop it.

“I…”, You hesitated.

Then exhaled sharply through your nose with a half-laugh that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Okay… this is going to sound reallyyy bad.”

He waited, as if giving space for truth to unfold at its own pace.

So you said it fast , like ripping off a bandage

“I saw it… in my father’s file.”

Silence fell

You quickly added,

"I wasn’t looking for anything! I swear! I went into his study because... I don't know why, I just did and then there was this file open...and I saw your name...and before I could think about what I was doing..."

Your voice softened

"...I saved your number."

Still nothing from him, Not judgment, Not surprise .

Just quiet thoughtfulness

Then , slowly,

“So let me get this straight,” he began , tone carefully neutral but not unkind

“you broke into Justice Madgaonkar’s private case file ...to steal my contact information?”

“Not broke!”, You winced .

“The door was open ! And ‘steal’ is such an ugly word, it’s not like I used it until tonight!”

A pause.

And then

The corner of his mouth twitched,a smile fighting its way out despite him controlling himself.

“You do realise how insane that sounds?” His voice dipped slightly warmer now laced dry humour rather than a reprimand.

“I do,” You admitted dropping gaze briefly only look back up daring spark returning

“But also …you answered. And here we are.”

Another beat passed, one where something shifted between them subtle yet unmistakable, mutual attraction,

Finally, he leaned back letting out soft exhale shaking head, his absolutely baffled on how he got himself into all of this,

“Yeah,” He murmured almost under breath watching her closely

“…here we are.”

You reached out, fingers trembling slightly as you found the GPS keypad on the console, tapping in your home address with a practiced ease.

His eyes followed your movements, but he said nothing, just watched as the map lit up with directions.

When you hit 'start' and the robotic voice began guiding you, he nodded once, more to himself than you before turning back to the road and pulling away from the police station lot, the tires crunching softly on gravel then purring smoothly on blacktop.

As the car moved down the empty roads, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of wind outside. You found yourself stealing glances at him, the way his hands gripped the wheel, the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his hair fell softly against his forehead.

His gaze remained firmly forward, but you weren't sure if it was because he was focused on driving or if it was because he was avoiding looking at you. Either way, the silence felt loaded somehow, as if a thousand unspoken words filled the space between you.

The GPS flashed with an update—“In 200 meters, turn right onto Main Street,” and you turned to watch the road ahead, but your mind was elsewhere.

His hand shifted gears, and your eyes followed the movement without thought, taking in the long fingers and the slight twitch in his bicep beneath the material of his shirt. You could faintly hear him breathing.

It would be so easy to reach out…

The thought of closing the gap between you was intoxicating, but the rational part of you—the voice that sounded a lot like your father's—urged you to keep control.

But then he spoke, voice soft but cutting through like a knife,

"If You keep looking at me like that, I might pull over."

You feel your cheeks heat up immediately, fingers twisting the hem of your dress hard. His eyes flick to you for a second from the rearview mirror before going back to the empty road, the corner of his mouth quirked up just a little.

"Arre, what? Don't stop now. Keep looking,"

he says, voice low and lazy,

"Mujhe koi problem nahi hai. Par phir jo hoga, uske liye main responsible nahi hoon."

Your heart pounds so loud you can hear it over the idle hum of the engine. You reach over and tap his forearm lightly, voice trembling but sure.

"Pull over here, Tarun."

He doesn't hesitate, pressing the brake and gliding onto the empty roadside, then cutting the engine.

He turns to you, one dark eyebrow raised. He leans in a little, breath warm against your ear, voice low.

"Get in the backseat, Meri jaan. Main abhi aata hoon."

You fumble with the seatbelt buckle, your fingers shaking so bad the click sounds too loud in the quiet car. You glance at him through your lashes, thighs pressing tight together.

"Okay... I'm going," you whisper, already pushing the door open.

He just nods, jaw tight as he watches you step out and walk around to the back door.

The backseat door clicks shut behind you, the leather cool under your palms as you shift to make space. The driver's side opens and closes, heavy footsteps slow and deliberate around the back of the car.

He pulls the door open and climbs in, the space shrinking instantly as he settles beside you.

He reaches over, fingers brushing your jaw as he tilts your face up to meet his.

"Ab bolo..what do you want from me, Y/N?" he murmurs, voice thick with unspoken want.

Your breath catches, your cheeks heating as you press closer, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a warm hug. Your voice is barely a whisper,

"Tumhe pata hai na main kya chahti hoon. Don't tease me, please."

He hums low, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, and you feel your whole body ache for him.

Before he can say more, you surge forward, pressing your lips hard against his, your palms cupping his face to hold him close.

He groans into your kiss, his hands flying to your hips as you swing a leg over and climb into his lap, your thighs bracketing his.

"I don't wanna wait any more.." you mumble against his lips, rolling your hips slow against his and making him curse under his breath.

Your fingers tremble as they slide down his chest, brushing the warm skin above his jeans before your hand closes around his belt buckle. Just as you start to pull it loose, his calloused hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you mid-movement. He tilts your chin up with his other hand.

"Ah ah, sabr karo...Let me take my time with you, yeah? You don't get to rush this."

_______________________________________________

You smooth down your wrinkled clothes, fingers still shaking from what just happened, as Tarun rounds the car and opens your door, holding his hand out to help you step out.

He pulls you close by your waist immediately, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that makes you melt.

"Tarun! Baba dekh lenge," you whisper frantically, pushing at his chest, but he just holds you tighter, smirking against your mouth.

"Toh dekhne do na, meri jaan. I don't mind."

You glance over his shoulder and freeze your dad is standing on the driveway in his usual kurta, arms crossed, staring straight at you two. Tarun follows your gaze, still grinning, and gives your dad a casual, unapologetic wink.

Your face goes bright red, and you yank yourself away from Tarun's chest, your hands nervously at your sides. Your dad's expression is unreadable, his jaw tight as he walks slowly toward the car.

"Tarun, this isn't funny," you whisper through clenched teeth, panic bubbling up your throat, but he just squeezes your hand, still calm.

"Aarey Justice Sahab! Kashe ahat tumi?" he says smoothly, still a slight smirk on his face as he greets your dad as if it normal to drop off his daughter at 2 in the night. (Oh! Justice Sahab, How are you?)

Your dad glares at Tarun for a long beat before shifting his gaze to you, his eyes softening just a fraction. He folds his arms again, voice deep and steady.

"Y/n, aat madhe ja. Mala zara tujhyashi bolaycha ahe." You nod, before leaving Tarun to enter the house. (Y/n go inside, I wanna talk to you.)

Tarun didn't drop that smug face tho even when your dad's glare snaps back to him.

"And you, Mr. Saluja" your dad says, voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"I'll see you in court day after tomorrow. Don't think this little stunt changes anything."

Hear me out...

Tarun is working as the prosecutor on a case and the judge hates his guts. (We all do but oh well) Not ONLY because tarun is fooling around with hus daughter but also because...tarun is wayy too cocky around him (indian harvey spector lolll)

Cut to judge ki daughter calling tarun in the middle of the night to bail her out (drink and drive) he picks her up, car me she flirts with him cuz why not??? And when he dropps her off her father see him and....bas yahi dimag mein aa raha hai..

(does this even make sense?? I shall elaborate more if you want 🙏🙏)