2 hours ago
(CHAPTER CONTD)
AT RACHIKA'S HOTEL SUITE
The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, the city lights slipping through in pale silver stripes. Meghna lay across the bed, fully dressed but deeply unconscious—breathing unevenly, her hair sprawled over the pillow in a careless tangle.
Hemant sat in the armchair near her feet, elbows on his knees, hands folded. He stared at her. Not with desire. Not with judgment. But with a cold, unsettling curiosity.
How had she gone from scorning him…to desiring him? From insulting him…to collapsing in his bed? She once declared he wasn’t man enough for Sonarika. She once said he was Sonarika's biggest mistake. She once insulted him for being a 'beta' man. And tonight she tried to kiss him.
Why the sudden change? Why the sudden approval? Why the sudden desire?
Hemant watched her sleeping form—so peaceful, so untrustworthy. His instincts, sharpened by loss and betrayal, whispered:
'People don’t change overnight. But manipulators reveal themselves'
And for the first time, he began to suspect that Meghna wasn’t a bystander in his ruined marriage.
She was a thread…woven through every lie.
Hemant stood, slipped out of the room, and closed the door gently behind him. The suite’s living room was dimly lit, with only the bedside lamps and neon city glow. From the other bedroom, muffled sounds filtered through—Rachika’s moans, Kunal’s grunts, occasional thumps on the wall.
Hemant shook his head with a faint half-smile.
"Well done, Kunal" he murmured.
"At least someone is unbroken tonight"
The rhythmic thumping from the adjacent hotel room was a relentless, mocking metronome. Thump… thump-thump… thump. Each impact was underscored by a faint, feminine cry that was unmistakably Rachika’s. Hemant sank deeper into the plush hotel suite couch, the sounds of his friend Kunal’s successful night a stark contrast to his own.
The thumping was clearer , more intimate, each moan a tiny dagger. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration coiling tight in his gut. The sudden, jarring vibration in his pocket was a shock. He pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. The caller ID made his breath hitch.
Pranitha Mehta.
Without a second thought, his thumb swiped to answer. The screen resolved into the face of the woman who had haunted him for weeks. She was backlit by soft lights of a luxurious hotel room—Amsterdam, he remembered—and her raven-black hair was tousled. She wore a simple, crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at the swoop of her collarbones.
"Well, hello there, handsome"
She said, her voice a warm, familiar melody that clashed with the grunts echoing from down the hall.
"Pranitha" His own voice was rough, unused.
"This is a surprise"
Her sharp eyes, always so perceptive, darted across her screen, taking in the details behind him.
"That doesn’t look like your apartment. A bit too… luxurious for your minimalist tastes"
"That's because its a hotel suite" he admitted, leaning back against the couch.
"I’m on a double date"
He saw it then, the subtle shift in her expression. A slight tightening around her full lips, a flicker of something wounded in her dark eyes.
"A date? I see. And here I was, thinking our kiss in that hospital was the start of something"
A dry, humorless laugh escaped him.
"You disappeared to another continent. What was I supposed to think? You kissed me and then… poof. The great Pranitha Mehta, vanishing act complete"
"My obligations are not always my choice, Hemant"
She said, her voice softening, losing its teasing edge.
"You know the weight of my family’s name. But I need you to know, I seriously considered missing that flight. I wanted to stay with you that night"
She paused, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
"So… is she nice? Your date?"
"She’s passed out drunk on the bed" He stated flatly.
"And I have a rule about that"
A genuine, relieved smile touched her lips.
"A man of principles. Even on a disappointing night. I admire that"
Her gaze turned smoky, intent.
"Tell me, Hemant. Have you ever had phone sex before?"
The question, so direct and sudden, sent a jolt straight to his core. He could feel a blush heating his neck.
"Can’t say that I have. Not really my style"
"Mmm" she purred, the sound vibrating through the speaker.
"Then I’ll just have to make up for leaving you hanging. It’s the least I can do"
It was only then that Hemant’s brain processed what his body had already noticed. The white shirt. The way it dbangd over her… and the absence of anything else underneath. The hem hit her mid-thigh, but there was no tell-tale line of shorts or pants. She’s wearing only the shirt.
"You’re noticing, aren’t you?" she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush.
"Just the shirt. I’ve been thinking about you all day and in this night"
She shifted, and the fabric gaped, offering a breathtaking glimpse of the soft curve of one breast, the peak of a smooth nipple before she let it fall closed again. Hemant’s mouth went dry.
"Let’s play a game" she murmured.
"If I had stayed that night, in that sterile hospital room… would you have dared to fuck me?"
The memory of that night—the pain, the anger, the raw grief—surged back.
"I was in a bad place, Pranitha. Hurting. I wouldn’t have been gentle. It’s better that we didn’t"
"I don’t mind a little roughness"
She breathed, her lips parting. Her tongue darted out to wet them.
"Tell me. What do you like?"
"Like what?"
"Like things you love doing while having sex.....favorite sex position"
"I don't know....I am not exactly that knowledgable in sex Pranitha....I let the mood dictate the sex..."
Hemant admitted, the confession torn from him.
"Then our mood will be quiet.......enticing!" Her hand drifted down, out of the camera’s view.
"What do you like about me?"
"Your body" he said without hesitation, the words blunt and honest.
"It’s… a perfect, feminine specimen. It would shame even the best actresses in Bollywood"
A throaty, delighted laugh escaped her.
"Such a poet. Okay. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let me see it, Hemant. I want to see your dick"
His heart hammered against his ribs.
"Pranitha… I…"
"Please" The single word was a whisper, a seduction in itself.
"I’ve been so alone. Let me see what I’ve been dreaming about"
Swallowing his nervousness, his fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, then the button of his jeans. He shifted the phone’s camera, angling it down. The cool air of the suite hit his skin as he freed his erection, thick and already leaking, holding the phone so she could see.
For a long moment, she was silent, just staring. Her breath hitched audibly.
"Oh…"
"Well?" he prompted, his voice strained.
"It’s a beautiful dick, Hemant" she finally said, her voice husky with want.
"It looks like it would feel incredible to swallow. To ride"
"Maybe you can, when you get back to Mumbai"
Hemant groaned, the image she painted searing his mind.
"I’m thinking about moving that timeline up"
Pranitha moaned. In one fluid motion, she shrugged off the white shirt, tossing it aside, revealing her glorious, nude body to him completely. She rolled onto her back, the camera angling down to show her hand sliding between her legs.
"I’m touching myself, Hemant. Thinking of you. Jerk off for me"
"It feels… awkward"
He admitted, though his hand was already wrapping around his length, giving a tentative stroke.
"Don’t think of it as your hand" she instructed, her voice a sultry command.
"Imagine it’s me. It’s my pussy. My sweet, delicate, desperate pussy that you’re stretching so deep"
Her fingers worked between her legs, and he could see the slick gleam on her skin.
"I haven’t been with a man since I met you. Only women. I’ve been the one fucking them, with a strap-on. Because I am infactuated by you, Hemant. Of all the things we can do with each other!"
Her words were a catalyst. His awkwardness vanished, replaced by a raw, primal need. His fist began moving in earnest, a tight, steady rhythm matching the filthy, wet sounds coming from her end of the call.
"I want you to take me from behind, from the top , from the side , EVERYWHERE!"
Pranitha confessed, her back arching.
"I want to feel all of you, just like that. HARD!"
He was close. The pressure was building, a coil winding tighter and tighter at the base of his spine. His breaths came in sharp grunts, syncing with her increasingly frantic moans. The world narrowed to the screen, to the sight of her pleasuring herself for him, to the sound of her voice pulling him over the edge.
"I’m cumming Pranitha…" he gritted out.
"Cum for me: she cried out, her body tensing.
"Let me see it!"
With a guttural groan, Hemant erupted. Thick, pearlescent streaks shot into the air, splattering onto the hotel floor and across his stomach in hot, pulsing waves. On the screen, Pranitha’s orgasm hit simultaneously, her body bowing off the bed as a silent, open-mouthed scream seized her.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Hemant slumped back, spent, watching her slowly come down. A lazy, sated smile spread across her beautiful face.
"Mmm, look at that" she purred, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at the mess on his stomach.
"I’m not letting a single drop go to waste next time. It’s going straight in my pussy… or my mouth. I’m going to treat your cum like sweet nectar and consume every last bit of you"
Hemant let out a breathless laugh, his body humming with satisfaction.
"Thank you for… a much better night"
Pranitha’s smile turned wicked, a promise of things to come.
"Oh, darling. This was just the warm-up. The real game will be so much more intense!!!!"
His brows lifted.
"We’ll see"
They exchanged goodbyes, her voice softening before the line clicked dead.
Hemant stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle.
Then he walked back into the bedroom.
Meghna lay exactly as before—quiet, unaware, unthreatening… yet now fully suspicious in his mind. He didn’t join her. He curled up on the small couch near the bed, pulling a thin blanket over himself. As he closed his eyes, he thought of betrayal. Of loyalty. Of strange women and familiar lies. Of his friends with benefits with Tamanna. Of a kiss with Pranitha. Of Sonarika’s smile at the party.
And somewhere between it all…Michael King slept with one eye open.
THE NEXT MORNING AT RAGINI'S APARTMENT
Sunlight seeped gently through Ragini’s sheer curtains, painting the room in a soft gold glow. Sonarika stirred awake on the mattress laid out on the floor, blinking slowly as she adjusted to the quiet morning. Ragini sat nearby with a cup of tea, watching her.
"You looked like you barely slept" she said softly.
"My mind… wouldn’t shut down" Sonarika rubbed her eyes.
Ragini nodded.
"You were thinking about him, weren’t you?"
A long breath.
"Partly. But also about Vikram" Sonarika’s voice cracked a little.
"What about him?" Ragini raised an eyebrow.
Sonarika exhaled heavily, pulling her knees close.
"He’s… still pursuing me. Even after I told him clearly last night. He’s shifting his base to Goa. He already has a hotel there."
Ragini’s face darkened.
"I can talk to him. Warn him. Tell him to stay away from you"
"No" Sonarika said quickly, shaking her head.
"I’ll handle it. I made the mistakes. I’ll correct them"
Ragini searched her face—saw the sorrow, the resolve.
"Alright. Just remember, you’re not alone"
Sonarika nodded, grateful.
A few minutes later, Mouni emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, adjusting her dupatta.
"Thank you, Ragini" she said warmly.
"Wonderful night. Much needed"
"Anytime" Ragini smiled.
Mouni hugged them both and left. The door had barely shut when another knock sounded. Ragini opened it. Rachika walked in—hair messy, makeup faded, wearing sunglasses indoors.
"Water" she croaked.
"Please. Before I die"
Ragini laughed and handed her a glass. Sonarika watched her curiously, sensing something… off. Rachika gulped down the water, wiped her mouth dramatically, then sat on the sofa with a dreamy sigh.
"Girls… last night… I had the craziest time."
Ragini raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Let me guess—you ditched the slumber party and found mischief"
Rachika giggled, cheeks flushing.
"Actually… I hooked up with someone"
Ragini’s jaw dropped.
"You WHAT?"
Rachika giggled harder.
"Don’t judge me, okay?"
Ragini burst out laughing.
"Good for you! He must’ve been worth it if you’re glowing like this. Who was the lucky guy?"
Rachika’s giggle slowly faded. She stared at her hands. Then, voice small:
"…I had trouble breathing when I realized who it was"
Ragini leaned in.
"Who?"
Rachika swallowed.
"Kunal"
Dead. Silence. Ragini froze. Sonarika’s eyes widened.
"K-Kunal?" Ragini repeated.
"As in—Mouni’s husband Kunal?"
Rachika winced and nodded.
"Yes"
"How did that even happen!?" Ragini demanded.
Rachika sighed.
"I was going back to my hotel suite. Meghna saw Kunal outside having drinks with his friend. She dragged me there, made it a double date… things escalated… and it just… happened"
Ragini blinked in shock.
"Wait. His friend? Who is this friend?"
Rachika thought for a moment.
"Umm… Hemant. Hemant Kumar. The man behind YOD Industries"
Sonarika’s face went white. Ragini slowly turned to look at her. Then back at Rachika.
"You’re sure?" Ragini asked, voice tightening.
"You’re talking about that Hemant Kumar?"
"Yes!" Rachika said cheerfully.
"Meghna hooked up with him last night right in front of me! Actually that’s what got us all in the mood. She literally pounced on him. Locked him in the bedroom. Crazy night"
Sonarika’s heart stopped. Her stomach twisted. Her world flipped on its axis. Rachika continued casually, still unaware:
"Funny thing is, he didn’t even react much. Just sat there. Meghna was all over him. Anyway, that’s why I ended up with Kunal. The vibe just—"
But her voice faded. Because Sonarika was already standing, pale, shaking, eyes filled with betrayal and burning tears. Not because Hemant was with another woman—he had every right now. But because Meghna—the woman she trusted most— had been involved. Had touched him. Had crossed a line Sonarika never imagined she would.
Her voice was low.
Cold.
Shattered.
"I need to go"
Ragini reached out.
"Sonarika—wait—"
But Sonarika was already at the door.
She didn’t slam it. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She walked out silently— like a woman whose last thread of belief had finally snapped.
(TO BE CONTD)
The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, the city lights slipping through in pale silver stripes. Meghna lay across the bed, fully dressed but deeply unconscious—breathing unevenly, her hair sprawled over the pillow in a careless tangle.
Hemant sat in the armchair near her feet, elbows on his knees, hands folded. He stared at her. Not with desire. Not with judgment. But with a cold, unsettling curiosity.
How had she gone from scorning him…to desiring him? From insulting him…to collapsing in his bed? She once declared he wasn’t man enough for Sonarika. She once said he was Sonarika's biggest mistake. She once insulted him for being a 'beta' man. And tonight she tried to kiss him.
Why the sudden change? Why the sudden approval? Why the sudden desire?
Hemant watched her sleeping form—so peaceful, so untrustworthy. His instincts, sharpened by loss and betrayal, whispered:
'People don’t change overnight. But manipulators reveal themselves'
And for the first time, he began to suspect that Meghna wasn’t a bystander in his ruined marriage.
She was a thread…woven through every lie.
Hemant stood, slipped out of the room, and closed the door gently behind him. The suite’s living room was dimly lit, with only the bedside lamps and neon city glow. From the other bedroom, muffled sounds filtered through—Rachika’s moans, Kunal’s grunts, occasional thumps on the wall.
Hemant shook his head with a faint half-smile.
"Well done, Kunal" he murmured.
"At least someone is unbroken tonight"
The rhythmic thumping from the adjacent hotel room was a relentless, mocking metronome. Thump… thump-thump… thump. Each impact was underscored by a faint, feminine cry that was unmistakably Rachika’s. Hemant sank deeper into the plush hotel suite couch, the sounds of his friend Kunal’s successful night a stark contrast to his own.
The thumping was clearer , more intimate, each moan a tiny dagger. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration coiling tight in his gut. The sudden, jarring vibration in his pocket was a shock. He pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. The caller ID made his breath hitch.
Pranitha Mehta.
Without a second thought, his thumb swiped to answer. The screen resolved into the face of the woman who had haunted him for weeks. She was backlit by soft lights of a luxurious hotel room—Amsterdam, he remembered—and her raven-black hair was tousled. She wore a simple, crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at the swoop of her collarbones.
"Well, hello there, handsome"
She said, her voice a warm, familiar melody that clashed with the grunts echoing from down the hall.
"Pranitha" His own voice was rough, unused.
"This is a surprise"
Her sharp eyes, always so perceptive, darted across her screen, taking in the details behind him.
"That doesn’t look like your apartment. A bit too… luxurious for your minimalist tastes"
"That's because its a hotel suite" he admitted, leaning back against the couch.
"I’m on a double date"
He saw it then, the subtle shift in her expression. A slight tightening around her full lips, a flicker of something wounded in her dark eyes.
"A date? I see. And here I was, thinking our kiss in that hospital was the start of something"
A dry, humorless laugh escaped him.
"You disappeared to another continent. What was I supposed to think? You kissed me and then… poof. The great Pranitha Mehta, vanishing act complete"
"My obligations are not always my choice, Hemant"
She said, her voice softening, losing its teasing edge.
"You know the weight of my family’s name. But I need you to know, I seriously considered missing that flight. I wanted to stay with you that night"
She paused, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
"So… is she nice? Your date?"
"She’s passed out drunk on the bed" He stated flatly.
"And I have a rule about that"
A genuine, relieved smile touched her lips.
"A man of principles. Even on a disappointing night. I admire that"
Her gaze turned smoky, intent.
"Tell me, Hemant. Have you ever had phone sex before?"
The question, so direct and sudden, sent a jolt straight to his core. He could feel a blush heating his neck.
"Can’t say that I have. Not really my style"
"Mmm" she purred, the sound vibrating through the speaker.
"Then I’ll just have to make up for leaving you hanging. It’s the least I can do"
It was only then that Hemant’s brain processed what his body had already noticed. The white shirt. The way it dbangd over her… and the absence of anything else underneath. The hem hit her mid-thigh, but there was no tell-tale line of shorts or pants. She’s wearing only the shirt.
"You’re noticing, aren’t you?" she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush.
"Just the shirt. I’ve been thinking about you all day and in this night"
She shifted, and the fabric gaped, offering a breathtaking glimpse of the soft curve of one breast, the peak of a smooth nipple before she let it fall closed again. Hemant’s mouth went dry.
"Let’s play a game" she murmured.
"If I had stayed that night, in that sterile hospital room… would you have dared to fuck me?"
The memory of that night—the pain, the anger, the raw grief—surged back.
"I was in a bad place, Pranitha. Hurting. I wouldn’t have been gentle. It’s better that we didn’t"
"I don’t mind a little roughness"
She breathed, her lips parting. Her tongue darted out to wet them.
"Tell me. What do you like?"
"Like what?"
"Like things you love doing while having sex.....favorite sex position"
"I don't know....I am not exactly that knowledgable in sex Pranitha....I let the mood dictate the sex..."
Hemant admitted, the confession torn from him.
"Then our mood will be quiet.......enticing!" Her hand drifted down, out of the camera’s view.
"What do you like about me?"
"Your body" he said without hesitation, the words blunt and honest.
"It’s… a perfect, feminine specimen. It would shame even the best actresses in Bollywood"
A throaty, delighted laugh escaped her.
"Such a poet. Okay. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let me see it, Hemant. I want to see your dick"
His heart hammered against his ribs.
"Pranitha… I…"
"Please" The single word was a whisper, a seduction in itself.
"I’ve been so alone. Let me see what I’ve been dreaming about"
Swallowing his nervousness, his fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, then the button of his jeans. He shifted the phone’s camera, angling it down. The cool air of the suite hit his skin as he freed his erection, thick and already leaking, holding the phone so she could see.
For a long moment, she was silent, just staring. Her breath hitched audibly.
"Oh…"
"Well?" he prompted, his voice strained.
"It’s a beautiful dick, Hemant" she finally said, her voice husky with want.
"It looks like it would feel incredible to swallow. To ride"
"Maybe you can, when you get back to Mumbai"
Hemant groaned, the image she painted searing his mind.
"I’m thinking about moving that timeline up"
Pranitha moaned. In one fluid motion, she shrugged off the white shirt, tossing it aside, revealing her glorious, nude body to him completely. She rolled onto her back, the camera angling down to show her hand sliding between her legs.
"I’m touching myself, Hemant. Thinking of you. Jerk off for me"
"It feels… awkward"
He admitted, though his hand was already wrapping around his length, giving a tentative stroke.
"Don’t think of it as your hand" she instructed, her voice a sultry command.
"Imagine it’s me. It’s my pussy. My sweet, delicate, desperate pussy that you’re stretching so deep"
Her fingers worked between her legs, and he could see the slick gleam on her skin.
"I haven’t been with a man since I met you. Only women. I’ve been the one fucking them, with a strap-on. Because I am infactuated by you, Hemant. Of all the things we can do with each other!"
Her words were a catalyst. His awkwardness vanished, replaced by a raw, primal need. His fist began moving in earnest, a tight, steady rhythm matching the filthy, wet sounds coming from her end of the call.
"I want you to take me from behind, from the top , from the side , EVERYWHERE!"
Pranitha confessed, her back arching.
"I want to feel all of you, just like that. HARD!"
He was close. The pressure was building, a coil winding tighter and tighter at the base of his spine. His breaths came in sharp grunts, syncing with her increasingly frantic moans. The world narrowed to the screen, to the sight of her pleasuring herself for him, to the sound of her voice pulling him over the edge.
"I’m cumming Pranitha…" he gritted out.
"Cum for me: she cried out, her body tensing.
"Let me see it!"
With a guttural groan, Hemant erupted. Thick, pearlescent streaks shot into the air, splattering onto the hotel floor and across his stomach in hot, pulsing waves. On the screen, Pranitha’s orgasm hit simultaneously, her body bowing off the bed as a silent, open-mouthed scream seized her.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Hemant slumped back, spent, watching her slowly come down. A lazy, sated smile spread across her beautiful face.
"Mmm, look at that" she purred, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at the mess on his stomach.
"I’m not letting a single drop go to waste next time. It’s going straight in my pussy… or my mouth. I’m going to treat your cum like sweet nectar and consume every last bit of you"
Hemant let out a breathless laugh, his body humming with satisfaction.
"Thank you for… a much better night"
Pranitha’s smile turned wicked, a promise of things to come.
"Oh, darling. This was just the warm-up. The real game will be so much more intense!!!!"
His brows lifted.
"We’ll see"
They exchanged goodbyes, her voice softening before the line clicked dead.
Hemant stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle.
Then he walked back into the bedroom.
Meghna lay exactly as before—quiet, unaware, unthreatening… yet now fully suspicious in his mind. He didn’t join her. He curled up on the small couch near the bed, pulling a thin blanket over himself. As he closed his eyes, he thought of betrayal. Of loyalty. Of strange women and familiar lies. Of his friends with benefits with Tamanna. Of a kiss with Pranitha. Of Sonarika’s smile at the party.
And somewhere between it all…Michael King slept with one eye open.
THE NEXT MORNING AT RAGINI'S APARTMENT
Sunlight seeped gently through Ragini’s sheer curtains, painting the room in a soft gold glow. Sonarika stirred awake on the mattress laid out on the floor, blinking slowly as she adjusted to the quiet morning. Ragini sat nearby with a cup of tea, watching her.
"You looked like you barely slept" she said softly.
"My mind… wouldn’t shut down" Sonarika rubbed her eyes.
Ragini nodded.
"You were thinking about him, weren’t you?"
A long breath.
"Partly. But also about Vikram" Sonarika’s voice cracked a little.
"What about him?" Ragini raised an eyebrow.
Sonarika exhaled heavily, pulling her knees close.
"He’s… still pursuing me. Even after I told him clearly last night. He’s shifting his base to Goa. He already has a hotel there."
Ragini’s face darkened.
"I can talk to him. Warn him. Tell him to stay away from you"
"No" Sonarika said quickly, shaking her head.
"I’ll handle it. I made the mistakes. I’ll correct them"
Ragini searched her face—saw the sorrow, the resolve.
"Alright. Just remember, you’re not alone"
Sonarika nodded, grateful.
A few minutes later, Mouni emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, adjusting her dupatta.
"Thank you, Ragini" she said warmly.
"Wonderful night. Much needed"
"Anytime" Ragini smiled.
Mouni hugged them both and left. The door had barely shut when another knock sounded. Ragini opened it. Rachika walked in—hair messy, makeup faded, wearing sunglasses indoors.
"Water" she croaked.
"Please. Before I die"
Ragini laughed and handed her a glass. Sonarika watched her curiously, sensing something… off. Rachika gulped down the water, wiped her mouth dramatically, then sat on the sofa with a dreamy sigh.
"Girls… last night… I had the craziest time."
Ragini raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Let me guess—you ditched the slumber party and found mischief"
Rachika giggled, cheeks flushing.
"Actually… I hooked up with someone"
Ragini’s jaw dropped.
"You WHAT?"
Rachika giggled harder.
"Don’t judge me, okay?"
Ragini burst out laughing.
"Good for you! He must’ve been worth it if you’re glowing like this. Who was the lucky guy?"
Rachika’s giggle slowly faded. She stared at her hands. Then, voice small:
"…I had trouble breathing when I realized who it was"
Ragini leaned in.
"Who?"
Rachika swallowed.
"Kunal"
Dead. Silence. Ragini froze. Sonarika’s eyes widened.
"K-Kunal?" Ragini repeated.
"As in—Mouni’s husband Kunal?"
Rachika winced and nodded.
"Yes"
"How did that even happen!?" Ragini demanded.
Rachika sighed.
"I was going back to my hotel suite. Meghna saw Kunal outside having drinks with his friend. She dragged me there, made it a double date… things escalated… and it just… happened"
Ragini blinked in shock.
"Wait. His friend? Who is this friend?"
Rachika thought for a moment.
"Umm… Hemant. Hemant Kumar. The man behind YOD Industries"
Sonarika’s face went white. Ragini slowly turned to look at her. Then back at Rachika.
"You’re sure?" Ragini asked, voice tightening.
"You’re talking about that Hemant Kumar?"
"Yes!" Rachika said cheerfully.
"Meghna hooked up with him last night right in front of me! Actually that’s what got us all in the mood. She literally pounced on him. Locked him in the bedroom. Crazy night"
Sonarika’s heart stopped. Her stomach twisted. Her world flipped on its axis. Rachika continued casually, still unaware:
"Funny thing is, he didn’t even react much. Just sat there. Meghna was all over him. Anyway, that’s why I ended up with Kunal. The vibe just—"
But her voice faded. Because Sonarika was already standing, pale, shaking, eyes filled with betrayal and burning tears. Not because Hemant was with another woman—he had every right now. But because Meghna—the woman she trusted most— had been involved. Had touched him. Had crossed a line Sonarika never imagined she would.
Her voice was low.
Cold.
Shattered.
"I need to go"
Ragini reached out.
"Sonarika—wait—"
But Sonarika was already at the door.
She didn’t slam it. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She walked out silently— like a woman whose last thread of belief had finally snapped.
(TO BE CONTD)
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