She(Avantika) had burned her world to get to him -Romantic- (1 Video) - Scene 4*

[ashuezy2]

Scene 4

Two weeks went by. The rain stopped completely. Delhi turned into an oven. It was that sticky, suffocating August heat where the air feels heavy in your lungs.
I didn't see the black SUV. I didn't see Avantika on the news.

Girish changed. He stopped painting. He spent his days sitting on the front steps, smoking chain-cigarettes, staring at the main road. He looked like a junkie going through withdrawal. He stopped shaving. The dark circles under his eyes got deeper.

It was a Tuesday night, around 11 PM. I was downstairs giving Girish some leftover curry because I knew he wasn't eating.
His phone rang. It wasn't a normal ringtone; it was a buzzing vibration on the wooden table.

He grabbed it so fast he knocked over a glass of water. He didn't say "Hello." He just listened. His entire body got tight. The exhausted zombie disappeared, and the hungry animal came back.

"Now?" he asked. His voice was rough. "It’s risky, Avi. The elections are next week."
He listened for another second, then a dark smile spread across his face. "Okay. The back gate. Leave the car."
He hung up and looked at me. "She’s coming."
"In this heat?" I asked. "There's no storm to hide her."

"That's why she’s walking," he said, moving fast now. He started kicking dirty clothes under the bed. He sprayed some cheap room freshener to cover the smell of stale smoke. "She’s walking from the park. No car. No driver." He looked at me, his eyes burning. "Get out, Sarika."
I grabbed my plate and ran upstairs to my post on the balcony.

Ten minutes later, I saw a shadow moving near the park wall. She was sneaking. She moved quickly between the shadows of the parked cars. She wasn't wearing a saree this time. She was wearing a simple cotton salwar suit, face covered with a dupatta like a common college girl. She was trying to be invisible. But I knew that walk. The way her heavy hips swayed with every step gave her away instantly.

She slipped through the gate and ran up the stairs. Girish opened the door before she even knocked. He pulled her in, but this time, there was no slamming door. It was quiet. Secretive.
I sat near the vent again. Last time, it was crashing noises. This time, it was whispering.

"You shouldn't be here," Girish whispered.

"I couldn't breathe," Avantika’s voice was shaky. "They are watching me everywhere. I just needed one hour where I don't have to pretend."
"Take it off," Girish said. It wasn't a command, it was a beg. "It’s too hot in here."
I heard the soft rustle of cotton dropping to the floor. It sounded softer than the silk.
"You're soaking wet," Girish groaned.

"It's the humidity," she whispered.
"No, it's not," he said, his voice dropping low and dirty. "It's because you knew you were coming to me. Come here."
The bedsprings creaked, a slow, heavy rhythm.

"You look tired," she said gently. I imagined her hands on his face.
"I'm dying without you," he admitted. "I just sit here and wait. That's my whole life now. Waiting for you to sneak out."
"Don't talk," she whispered. Then her breath hitched. "Girish... wait. Not so fast. It's been too long."

"I don't care," he growled. "Open your legs. I need to be inside you right now."
The sounds changed. It wasn't violent like the storm. It was sticky and slow. The heat made their skin sweat, making everything slick. I could hear the wet, slapping sound of their bodies sliding against each other.

"Yes... just like that," she moaned, her voice throaty and deep. "Deeper. Please, Girish. Make me forget my name."
"Who do you belong to?" he asked, his voice strained.
"You," she whimpered. "Only you. Right now, I'm just yours."
"Say it louder," he demanded. The bed banged against the wall, harder this time.
"Girish... not so loud," she gasped. "The window is open."
"Let them hear," he said. "Let the whole neighborhood hear how wet you are for me. I don't care."

It went on for a long time. The heat made everything intense and drowning. They were moving slow, grinding against each other, trying to make the feeling last.
When it finally stopped, the silence felt heavy.
"I can't keep doing this, Avi," Girish’s voice cut through the quiet. He sounded angry now.
"Don't start," she warned.

"I want you," he said, his voice rising. "Not just for an hour in secret. I want to wake up with you. Leave him."
There was a long silence. Then a cold, cruel laugh from her.
"Leave him?" she said. "And go where? Live here? In this tiny flat? You can barely pay rent, Girish. You want me to give up my life to be a starving artist's muse?"

That was brutal. It was a reality check. I heard footsteps pacing the floor.
"I love you," Girish said, sounding desperate. "Doesn't that matter?"
"Love doesn't pay for security," Avantika said. Her voice was back to being the Diplomat's wife. Cold. Practical. "I love you, Girish. I do. But I love my life too. You are my escape. Don't try to be my reality. You'll ruin it."

I heard the zipper of a bag. She was getting dressed.
"So I'm just a toy," Girish spat.
"You are the only place I can breathe," she said softly. "Isn't that enough?"

The door opened. She walked out, her dupatta wrapped tight around her face again. She didn't look back this time either. She slipped into the shadows and vanished toward the park.
Girish came out onto the landing. He was naked from the waist up, sweating, holding a cigarette. He looked at the empty street. He looked up and saw me on the balcony. He didn't hide his face. He looked furious.

"She's right, you know," I called down softly. "She's never going to leave him."
Girish took a long drag of his cigarette, the embers glowing in the dark.
"I know," he said, his voice hollow. "But she'll be back. She needs the dirt, Sarika. The palace is too clean for her. She needs to get dirty to feel alive."

He flicked the cigarette butt into the dark street and slammed his door shut. The cycle was just going to keep repeating. Until one of them broke.