23-12-2025, 08:20 AM
Chapter 26 – The Night We Didn’t Cross
When their lips parted, it was Rohan who felt the shift more deeply.
Nivi’s eyes were wide, breath unsteady, cheeks flushed with the rush of the moment.
But Rohan — the man who had brought countless women to this very penthouse suite, who had fucked models and married women in these same sheets out of frustration and rebellion against his distant wife — felt something entirely new.
Not just lust.
Something softer.
Deeper.
A longing he hadn’t expected.
Love, perhaps — or the closest he’d come in years.
He had booked this place with heat in mind — to finally have her, claim her body the way his fantasies had demanded for weeks.
Talks slowly, manipulate gently, take her to bed.
It could have taken even a month more.
But Prem's call changed everything.
The overprotective rant triggered Nivi's explanation.
Which turned into raw conversation.
Which needed comfort from him.
That's the crack.
Deep down, he thanked Prem and his endless overthinking.
If he hadn't called, irritated Nivi, shown his control…
Nivi and he would not have dived into the conversation that landed in comfort... and the kiss.
His heart wanted more. Understanding. Companionship.
Someone to share the silence with. Without thinking, the words slipped out.
“Sorry… I shouldn’t have.”
His voice rough, genuine.
“But your kiss… it healed something. Eight years of pain.”
Nivi looked at him — really looked.
Saw the rawness in his eyes.
She came back to reality.
She knew that pain.
The same emptiness.
Rohan stood, offered his hand.
She took it. He pulled her up gently.
“No need to be sorry,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t a mistake. We both felt it. Some kind of… longing. I don’t have words for it. Just… I felt like I finally had someone I could talk to.”
Nivi nodded, still dazed from the kiss, from his honesty.
From the truth in his words.
Rohan looked at her — vulnerable for the first time.
“I have tons to share. Would you mind… sleeping with me tonight?”
She blinked.
He clarified quickly, softly.
“Just a friend beside me. Hear my stories. Sleep side by side. Assurance. Nothing more.”
Nivi saw his eyes.
The need. Not for her body. For her presence.
She felt it too.
The loneliness.
The want for someone who listened. Who understood.
She nodded.
Quietly followed him.
They sat on the same bed — backs against the headboard, side by side.
No touching. Just talking.
Rohan first.
His love story — crazy, passionate at the start. How his wife slowly withdrew.
Stopped satisfying his needs — emotional, physical. How he turned to others.
Models. Married women.
In this very room.
“But your kiss,” he said, voice low. “It was different. It healed me.”
Nivi smiled — first words in thirty minutes.
“I felt the same.”
She told her story — the dreams buried, the cage of love, the talent ignored.
How Prem never truly saw her fire.
"But what's surprising is how you can speak this well — close, personal — and not just business."
Rohan smiled, a real one this time, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the sharp edges of his face.
"I'm a fun person, Nivi. More jovial than practical, really. I love laughing, sharing stories, being light. But my wife's sudden withdrawal... it drove me to constantly overthink, keep everything locked inside."
He looked out at the city lights, voice quieter.
"I distract it all in business. Deals, numbers, control — that's where I bury the noise. It's safer than feeling."
Nivi understood it completely.
She kind of experienced the same.
Deep down, she was a fun person too — quick to laugh, full of ideas, playful once.
College Nivi danced at culturals, dreamed big, teased friends.
But over the years, she was not heard by Prem.
Her voice faded.
She lived the life which Prem dictated — safe, protected, but small.
No room for her fire.No space for the girl who wanted to build empires, laugh loud, feel alive.
She nodded slowly, eyes on the pool water.
"I get it," she whispered.
"The cage isn't always bars. Sometimes it's love... that forgets to let you breathe."
They sat in silence a moment.
Comfortable.
Shared.
The night deeper now.
Closer.
They spoke until voices grew soft.
Until eyelids heavy.
They never knew when they dozed off — still sitting, heads leaning closer.
Morning came gentle.
They woke — somehow lying down, her head on his chest, his arm around her.
No memory of moving. Just natural.
They hugged — warm, lingering. No guilt.
Just comfort.
The flight home was quiet. Side by side again.
Nivi saw how he was deep into a magazine, reading digital on latest trends and sharing insights with her.
With not even a glimpse of anything on his head about last night.
It felt like she had dreamed something and it didn't happen in real last night.
Nivi asked, “How can you be so focused? I’m still thinking about last night.”
Rohan smiled.
“It’s how we have to be. I treat you as a good friend now. Last night won’t stop us. Every month, we’ll travel back to the same penthouse. Speak our hearts. Celebrate. And if you decide… our lips connect again.” He winked.
Nivi wasn’t sure if he was playing about the kiss or serious.
But she wanted the other things — speaking, sharing, caring…
She didn’t answer.
Just looked out the window.
Smiled inside.
Back in Chennai.
The days turned to routine.
Nivi and Rohan signed papers. Found a new office.
Shifted her space. Assigned employees.
Pitched new clients.
Built hierarchy.
Rohan stayed focused — professional, driven.
Nivi noticed how he seemed to… forget the heat.
Or control it.
She decided to follow his lead.
Focus.
The company grew.
Nivi landed projects without Rohan’s help.
Kept Prem busy.
At home, she and Prem shared the same bedroom.
But no connection. Not like that one night in Bangalore.
She missed it. Not the kiss.
The talking. The comfort. The celebration.
The feeling of being understood.
One night, a month later.
Her phone lit up.
Message from Rohan.
Sorry for not telling earlier. Same client. Bangalore. Tomorrow.
Nivi’s heart leaped. Overjoyed.
Not for business. For him.
For that night again.
When their lips parted, it was Rohan who felt the shift more deeply.
Nivi’s eyes were wide, breath unsteady, cheeks flushed with the rush of the moment.
But Rohan — the man who had brought countless women to this very penthouse suite, who had fucked models and married women in these same sheets out of frustration and rebellion against his distant wife — felt something entirely new.
Not just lust.
Something softer.
Deeper.
A longing he hadn’t expected.
Love, perhaps — or the closest he’d come in years.
He had booked this place with heat in mind — to finally have her, claim her body the way his fantasies had demanded for weeks.
Talks slowly, manipulate gently, take her to bed.
It could have taken even a month more.
But Prem's call changed everything.
The overprotective rant triggered Nivi's explanation.
Which turned into raw conversation.
Which needed comfort from him.
That's the crack.
Deep down, he thanked Prem and his endless overthinking.
If he hadn't called, irritated Nivi, shown his control…
Nivi and he would not have dived into the conversation that landed in comfort... and the kiss.
His heart wanted more. Understanding. Companionship.
Someone to share the silence with. Without thinking, the words slipped out.
“Sorry… I shouldn’t have.”
His voice rough, genuine.
“But your kiss… it healed something. Eight years of pain.”
Nivi looked at him — really looked.
Saw the rawness in his eyes.
She came back to reality.
She knew that pain.
The same emptiness.
Rohan stood, offered his hand.
She took it. He pulled her up gently.
“No need to be sorry,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t a mistake. We both felt it. Some kind of… longing. I don’t have words for it. Just… I felt like I finally had someone I could talk to.”
Nivi nodded, still dazed from the kiss, from his honesty.
From the truth in his words.
Rohan looked at her — vulnerable for the first time.
“I have tons to share. Would you mind… sleeping with me tonight?”
She blinked.
He clarified quickly, softly.
“Just a friend beside me. Hear my stories. Sleep side by side. Assurance. Nothing more.”
Nivi saw his eyes.
The need. Not for her body. For her presence.
She felt it too.
The loneliness.
The want for someone who listened. Who understood.
She nodded.
Quietly followed him.
They sat on the same bed — backs against the headboard, side by side.
No touching. Just talking.
Rohan first.
His love story — crazy, passionate at the start. How his wife slowly withdrew.
Stopped satisfying his needs — emotional, physical. How he turned to others.
Models. Married women.
In this very room.
“But your kiss,” he said, voice low. “It was different. It healed me.”
Nivi smiled — first words in thirty minutes.
“I felt the same.”
She told her story — the dreams buried, the cage of love, the talent ignored.
How Prem never truly saw her fire.
"But what's surprising is how you can speak this well — close, personal — and not just business."
Rohan smiled, a real one this time, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the sharp edges of his face.
"I'm a fun person, Nivi. More jovial than practical, really. I love laughing, sharing stories, being light. But my wife's sudden withdrawal... it drove me to constantly overthink, keep everything locked inside."
He looked out at the city lights, voice quieter.
"I distract it all in business. Deals, numbers, control — that's where I bury the noise. It's safer than feeling."
Nivi understood it completely.
She kind of experienced the same.
Deep down, she was a fun person too — quick to laugh, full of ideas, playful once.
College Nivi danced at culturals, dreamed big, teased friends.
But over the years, she was not heard by Prem.
Her voice faded.
She lived the life which Prem dictated — safe, protected, but small.
No room for her fire.No space for the girl who wanted to build empires, laugh loud, feel alive.
She nodded slowly, eyes on the pool water.
"I get it," she whispered.
"The cage isn't always bars. Sometimes it's love... that forgets to let you breathe."
They sat in silence a moment.
Comfortable.
Shared.
The night deeper now.
Closer.
They spoke until voices grew soft.
Until eyelids heavy.
They never knew when they dozed off — still sitting, heads leaning closer.
Morning came gentle.
They woke — somehow lying down, her head on his chest, his arm around her.
No memory of moving. Just natural.
They hugged — warm, lingering. No guilt.
Just comfort.
The flight home was quiet. Side by side again.
Nivi saw how he was deep into a magazine, reading digital on latest trends and sharing insights with her.
With not even a glimpse of anything on his head about last night.
It felt like she had dreamed something and it didn't happen in real last night.
Nivi asked, “How can you be so focused? I’m still thinking about last night.”
Rohan smiled.
“It’s how we have to be. I treat you as a good friend now. Last night won’t stop us. Every month, we’ll travel back to the same penthouse. Speak our hearts. Celebrate. And if you decide… our lips connect again.” He winked.
Nivi wasn’t sure if he was playing about the kiss or serious.
But she wanted the other things — speaking, sharing, caring…
She didn’t answer.
Just looked out the window.
Smiled inside.
Back in Chennai.
The days turned to routine.
Nivi and Rohan signed papers. Found a new office.
Shifted her space. Assigned employees.
Pitched new clients.
Built hierarchy.
Rohan stayed focused — professional, driven.
Nivi noticed how he seemed to… forget the heat.
Or control it.
She decided to follow his lead.
Focus.
The company grew.
Nivi landed projects without Rohan’s help.
Kept Prem busy.
At home, she and Prem shared the same bedroom.
But no connection. Not like that one night in Bangalore.
She missed it. Not the kiss.
The talking. The comfort. The celebration.
The feeling of being understood.
One night, a month later.
Her phone lit up.
Message from Rohan.
Sorry for not telling earlier. Same client. Bangalore. Tomorrow.
Nivi’s heart leaped. Overjoyed.
Not for business. For him.
For that night again.
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