15-05-2026, 12:58 AM
Chapter 115 - Open Flames
Saturday arrived with a heavy, restless energy in the office.
The team was working overtime on the tender demo, and
the atmosphere was thick with pressure and unspoken tension.
Gowtham tried to focus on his screen, but his eyes kept drifting toward the next cabin like a magnet. Rahul had been hovering around Varsha since morning — bringing her coffee, leaning far too close over her desk to “help” with the modules, his hand occasionally brushing her shoulder or arm. Every time Varsha laughed at something Rahul said, the sound cut through Gowtham like a blade.
By lunch, it became unbearable.
Rahul and Varsha sat together in the pantry, trays side by side, their chairs pulled unusually close.
Gowtham, who usually ate alone in his corner, found himself unable to look away.
His food tasted like ash.
Rahul was smiling warmly, eyes lingering on her face. “You know, Varsha… you look a lot like Mrunal Thakur.
Same sharp, expressive eyes… same glowing, fair skin. And you’re Marathi too — it’s like she came to life in front of me.”
Varsha laughed softly, a light, melodic sound that sent a jolt through Gowtham.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers grazing her neck deliberately, drawing attention to the smooth curve of her throat and the slight swell of her breasts beneath her fitted top.
“Really? Now you’re just flattering me, Sir,” she said, her voice playful, lips curving into a teasing smile.
“No, I’m serious,” Rahul leaned closer, his voice dropping.
“She’s beautiful on screen, but you… you have this real, dangerous charm. Natural. The way you move, the way you smile — it’s addictive.”
They both laughed again — open, easy, flirtatious laughter that carried across the pantry. Rahul’s hand casually rested on the back of her chair, his fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder. Varsha didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in slightly while explaining something on her phone, giving him a perfect view of her cleavage as she laughed.
Gowtham’s grip on his spoon tightened until his knuckles turned white. The sound of their laughter felt like needles under his skin.
Slut… he thought bitterly. One day with him and she’s already glowing like this? Letting him touch her so openly?
The flirtation continued throughout lunch. Rahul kept finding excuses to touch her hand while showing something on his phone, his thumb stroking the back of her palm. Varsha played along perfectly — smiling, batting her lashes, occasionally glancing in Gowtham’s direction as if making sure he was watching every second of it.
In the evening, the torture only intensified.
For the long day they both just kept flirting with each other causing the work to slow down. Gowtham never wanted to leave them, he decided to stay as long as it take.
At 8:40 PM, Gowtham saw them leaving together again from office. Rahul’s sleek Sedan was waiting. Varsha got in without hesitation. This time, they didn’t head straight to her house. Gowtham, unable to stop himself, followed on his bike, heart pounding with a toxic mix of rage and unwanted desire.
Ten minutes later, he watched from a distance as Rahul parked near a quiet, upscale restaurant. Varsha stepped out gracefully, the evening breeze pressing her dress against her body, outlining every curve. Rahul offered his hand. She took it without hesitation.
They walked hand-in-hand toward the restaurant entrance, fingers interlaced, laughing about something Gowtham couldn’t hear. Rahul’s thumb gently stroked the back of her hand — a small, intimate gesture that made Gowtham’s blood boil.
Varsha turned her head slightly just before entering. Her eyes met Gowtham’s across the street. For a split second, their gazes locked.
She smiled — small, knowing, almost victorious — before disappearing inside with Rahul, her hips swaying with every step.
Gowtham sat on his bike in the shadows, chest burning with jealousy so intense it felt physical.
Slut…
The word echoed in his mind again and again. He felt a toxic mix of jealousy, anger, and a deep, unsettling ache he refused to name. His mind kept flashing unwanted images — Rahul’s hands on her waist, his lips on her neck, Varsha moaning softly the way she once did for him.
He didn’t go home immediately. He sat there for a long time, staring at the restaurant door, wondering how a woman he once wanted to destroy had managed to crawl so deep under his skin in such a short time.
The night became unbearable for Gowtham.
After they finished dinner at the upscale restaurant, he continued trailing Rahul’s car from a safe distance on his bike. His knuckles were white on the handlebars, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Every laugh he had witnessed between them, every casual touch, kept replaying in his mind like a poison.
Rahul finally stopped in front of Varsha’s apartment building. He got out, walked her to the gate like a perfect gentleman, and they spoke for a couple of minutes. Varsha smiled warmly at him before disappearing inside and locking the door.
Gowtham sat on his bike in the shadows across the street, watching the lights in her apartment turn on. The image of her walking hand-in-hand with Rahul refused to leave him.
He didn’t go home immediately. He sat there for nearly forty minutes, chest burning with a toxic mix of jealousy, anger, and an ache he refused to name. For the second night in a row, he skipped dinner entirely. He returned to his house, locked the door, and collapsed on the bed without changing his clothes.
Meanwhile, back in the master bedroom, Sneha had made a quiet decision.
She stayed close to Suresh the entire evening — helping Ramya with her homework, sitting beside him during dinner, and now, as they lay in bed, she moved closer without hesitation. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his back, hugging him tightly from behind.
Day after day, her guilt had been rising like a tide. Tonight, it finally spilled over. Silent tears slipped from her eyes as she held him.
Suresh remained still for a long moment before he spoke, voice low.
“You’re hugging me now… after everything?”
Sneha’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realise how much I hurt you. How I allowed Gowtham to trick you… to make you feel like a fool. I was so blind.”
She held him tighter, her tears wetting the back of his t-shirt.
“Bear with me for a few more days… until we figure out the truth. But before that, I need to do something. You no more need to move to the guest room. This is your place. If he wants sex… let him stay in the guest room from now on.”
Suresh let out a bitter laugh. “Even now you don’t want to avoid sex with him completely?”
Sneha shook her head against his back. “I don’t want to alarm him. Like you said — if he is at fault, he will try to erase the proofs. I need to continue fooling him… at least for now. It will be equal… if he fooled us, then I will fool him back.”
She paused, then asked softly, “Tell me one thing… how did you strongly believe he has a connection to your kidnapping?”
Suresh turned slightly to face her. “Did you forget? I told you — the transactions and the birthday cake order from the hill station.”
Sneha asked him to show the images again. As he opened his laptop and displayed the screenshots, she carefully noted down the UPI ID, the name, and the number.
“If you had taken his mobile and checked the number properly, you would have got an answer,” she said quietly.
Suresh sighed. “I just found them in the gallery at that time. I didn’t think this deeply… only recently I figured it out.”
Sneha nodded with determination. “Okay. Taking his mobile in my hand should be the first step.”
She closed the laptop, turned off the light, and hugged Suresh tightly again, her body pressed against his. For the first time in many weeks, they slept in each other’s arms — not with passion, but with a fragile, painful understanding.
Two broken people, slowly trying to find their way back to each other…
Saturday arrived with a heavy, restless energy in the office.
The team was working overtime on the tender demo, and
the atmosphere was thick with pressure and unspoken tension.
Gowtham tried to focus on his screen, but his eyes kept drifting toward the next cabin like a magnet. Rahul had been hovering around Varsha since morning — bringing her coffee, leaning far too close over her desk to “help” with the modules, his hand occasionally brushing her shoulder or arm. Every time Varsha laughed at something Rahul said, the sound cut through Gowtham like a blade.
By lunch, it became unbearable.
Rahul and Varsha sat together in the pantry, trays side by side, their chairs pulled unusually close.
Gowtham, who usually ate alone in his corner, found himself unable to look away.
His food tasted like ash.
Rahul was smiling warmly, eyes lingering on her face. “You know, Varsha… you look a lot like Mrunal Thakur.
Same sharp, expressive eyes… same glowing, fair skin. And you’re Marathi too — it’s like she came to life in front of me.”
Varsha laughed softly, a light, melodic sound that sent a jolt through Gowtham.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers grazing her neck deliberately, drawing attention to the smooth curve of her throat and the slight swell of her breasts beneath her fitted top.
“Really? Now you’re just flattering me, Sir,” she said, her voice playful, lips curving into a teasing smile.
“No, I’m serious,” Rahul leaned closer, his voice dropping.
“She’s beautiful on screen, but you… you have this real, dangerous charm. Natural. The way you move, the way you smile — it’s addictive.”
They both laughed again — open, easy, flirtatious laughter that carried across the pantry. Rahul’s hand casually rested on the back of her chair, his fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder. Varsha didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in slightly while explaining something on her phone, giving him a perfect view of her cleavage as she laughed.
Gowtham’s grip on his spoon tightened until his knuckles turned white. The sound of their laughter felt like needles under his skin.
Slut… he thought bitterly. One day with him and she’s already glowing like this? Letting him touch her so openly?
The flirtation continued throughout lunch. Rahul kept finding excuses to touch her hand while showing something on his phone, his thumb stroking the back of her palm. Varsha played along perfectly — smiling, batting her lashes, occasionally glancing in Gowtham’s direction as if making sure he was watching every second of it.
In the evening, the torture only intensified.
For the long day they both just kept flirting with each other causing the work to slow down. Gowtham never wanted to leave them, he decided to stay as long as it take.
At 8:40 PM, Gowtham saw them leaving together again from office. Rahul’s sleek Sedan was waiting. Varsha got in without hesitation. This time, they didn’t head straight to her house. Gowtham, unable to stop himself, followed on his bike, heart pounding with a toxic mix of rage and unwanted desire.
Ten minutes later, he watched from a distance as Rahul parked near a quiet, upscale restaurant. Varsha stepped out gracefully, the evening breeze pressing her dress against her body, outlining every curve. Rahul offered his hand. She took it without hesitation.
They walked hand-in-hand toward the restaurant entrance, fingers interlaced, laughing about something Gowtham couldn’t hear. Rahul’s thumb gently stroked the back of her hand — a small, intimate gesture that made Gowtham’s blood boil.
Varsha turned her head slightly just before entering. Her eyes met Gowtham’s across the street. For a split second, their gazes locked.
She smiled — small, knowing, almost victorious — before disappearing inside with Rahul, her hips swaying with every step.
Gowtham sat on his bike in the shadows, chest burning with jealousy so intense it felt physical.
Slut…
The word echoed in his mind again and again. He felt a toxic mix of jealousy, anger, and a deep, unsettling ache he refused to name. His mind kept flashing unwanted images — Rahul’s hands on her waist, his lips on her neck, Varsha moaning softly the way she once did for him.
He didn’t go home immediately. He sat there for a long time, staring at the restaurant door, wondering how a woman he once wanted to destroy had managed to crawl so deep under his skin in such a short time.
The night became unbearable for Gowtham.
After they finished dinner at the upscale restaurant, he continued trailing Rahul’s car from a safe distance on his bike. His knuckles were white on the handlebars, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Every laugh he had witnessed between them, every casual touch, kept replaying in his mind like a poison.
Rahul finally stopped in front of Varsha’s apartment building. He got out, walked her to the gate like a perfect gentleman, and they spoke for a couple of minutes. Varsha smiled warmly at him before disappearing inside and locking the door.
Gowtham sat on his bike in the shadows across the street, watching the lights in her apartment turn on. The image of her walking hand-in-hand with Rahul refused to leave him.
He didn’t go home immediately. He sat there for nearly forty minutes, chest burning with a toxic mix of jealousy, anger, and an ache he refused to name. For the second night in a row, he skipped dinner entirely. He returned to his house, locked the door, and collapsed on the bed without changing his clothes.
Meanwhile, back in the master bedroom, Sneha had made a quiet decision.
She stayed close to Suresh the entire evening — helping Ramya with her homework, sitting beside him during dinner, and now, as they lay in bed, she moved closer without hesitation. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his back, hugging him tightly from behind.
Day after day, her guilt had been rising like a tide. Tonight, it finally spilled over. Silent tears slipped from her eyes as she held him.
Suresh remained still for a long moment before he spoke, voice low.
“You’re hugging me now… after everything?”
Sneha’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realise how much I hurt you. How I allowed Gowtham to trick you… to make you feel like a fool. I was so blind.”
She held him tighter, her tears wetting the back of his t-shirt.
“Bear with me for a few more days… until we figure out the truth. But before that, I need to do something. You no more need to move to the guest room. This is your place. If he wants sex… let him stay in the guest room from now on.”
Suresh let out a bitter laugh. “Even now you don’t want to avoid sex with him completely?”
Sneha shook her head against his back. “I don’t want to alarm him. Like you said — if he is at fault, he will try to erase the proofs. I need to continue fooling him… at least for now. It will be equal… if he fooled us, then I will fool him back.”
She paused, then asked softly, “Tell me one thing… how did you strongly believe he has a connection to your kidnapping?”
Suresh turned slightly to face her. “Did you forget? I told you — the transactions and the birthday cake order from the hill station.”
Sneha asked him to show the images again. As he opened his laptop and displayed the screenshots, she carefully noted down the UPI ID, the name, and the number.
“If you had taken his mobile and checked the number properly, you would have got an answer,” she said quietly.
Suresh sighed. “I just found them in the gallery at that time. I didn’t think this deeply… only recently I figured it out.”
Sneha nodded with determination. “Okay. Taking his mobile in my hand should be the first step.”
She closed the laptop, turned off the light, and hugged Suresh tightly again, her body pressed against his. For the first time in many weeks, they slept in each other’s arms — not with passion, but with a fragile, painful understanding.
Two broken people, slowly trying to find their way back to each other…
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