24-06-2025, 06:06 PM
Wednesday Morning – Varnika’s Ride
The Uber’s backseat felt colder than usual.
Varnika sat stiffly, her backpack hugged to her chest.
Not because she was holding anything valuable, but because she needed something between herself and the world.
Something to grip while her mind spun in silence.
The city blurred past her window, Hyderabad’s usual din of honking scooters, impatient buses, and rain-washed billboards.
But inside the car, there was only the thrum of her pulse and a storm she didn’t want to name.
She had walked out of 403 that morning without speaking to either of them.
Not to her sister.
Not to Abhi.
Just a quiet nod to Meghana when asked if she was leaving—and then.
An even quieter request for the gate guard to call her a cab.
She hadn’t wanted to look at either of their faces. Not after seeing them like that.
Not after seeing him, on his knees, folded into Meghana’s body like she was something sacred.
And Meghana, silent and breathless, her hands around his head, holding him like he was hers.
It hadn’t been vulgar. No.
It had been worse than that.
It had been... intimate. So real. So impossibly tender.
And Varnika couldn’t unsee it.
She leaned her head against the window, eyes stinging from the sleepless night and the weight of this new ache.
She had told herself she didn’t mind.
That Abhi could be close to Meghana if he wanted—she wasn’t a child, she didn’t expect anything.
But something did hurt.
Something sharp and humiliating.
She had walked into that room thinking she knew her place.
And walked out realizing she didn’t.
The Uber’s backseat felt colder than usual.
Varnika sat stiffly, her backpack hugged to her chest.
Not because she was holding anything valuable, but because she needed something between herself and the world.
Something to grip while her mind spun in silence.
The city blurred past her window, Hyderabad’s usual din of honking scooters, impatient buses, and rain-washed billboards.
But inside the car, there was only the thrum of her pulse and a storm she didn’t want to name.
She had walked out of 403 that morning without speaking to either of them.
Not to her sister.
Not to Abhi.
Just a quiet nod to Meghana when asked if she was leaving—and then.
An even quieter request for the gate guard to call her a cab.
She hadn’t wanted to look at either of their faces. Not after seeing them like that.
Not after seeing him, on his knees, folded into Meghana’s body like she was something sacred.
And Meghana, silent and breathless, her hands around his head, holding him like he was hers.
It hadn’t been vulgar. No.
It had been worse than that.
It had been... intimate. So real. So impossibly tender.
And Varnika couldn’t unsee it.
She leaned her head against the window, eyes stinging from the sleepless night and the weight of this new ache.
She had told herself she didn’t mind.
That Abhi could be close to Meghana if he wanted—she wasn’t a child, she didn’t expect anything.
But something did hurt.
Something sharp and humiliating.
She had walked into that room thinking she knew her place.
And walked out realizing she didn’t.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)