11-06-2026, 02:05 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-06-2026, 02:10 AM by heygiwriter. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
Chapter 40: Burnt Dosas and Bitter Truths
The kiss was deep, hungry, and consuming. Tharun’s mouth moved against Nikitha’s with growing urgency, his hands gripping her waist as he pressed her against the kitchen wall. Their tongues tangled slowly at first, then with increasing heat. Soft moans escaped her as the intensity built. For a few heated moments, the world outside ceased to exist.
Suddenly — CRASH!
They broke apart instantly, hearts slamming in their chests. Nikitha gasped, her lips swollen and glistening, her carefully applied lipstick smudged. Tharun instinctively stepped in front of her, shielding her body with his own, both of them flushed, breathing heavily, clothes slightly disheveled.
“What the hell was that?” Tharun muttered, his voice low and alert, eyes scanning the door.
Nikitha’s pulse thundered in her ears. “I’ll come with you,” she whispered, though her legs felt unsteady.
What if it’s Jay? What if he followed us? The paranoia clawed at her throat.
Tharun opened the door cautiously, peering into the dimly lit corridor. It wasn’t Jay. It was the middle-aged couple from the opposite flat. The wife, a stout woman in a faded nightie, was berating her drunk husband, who slumped against the wall amid shards of a broken whiskey bottle. The sharp smell of alcohol wafted toward them.
“Why do you drink and destroy yourself every single day?!” the wife screamed, her voice cracking with years of pent-up frustration. “If your son doesn’t listen, talk to him calmly! Instead, you drink and fight… you’re destroying yourself and this family! Look at you—stumbling home like a fool while I manage everything alone!”
The words landed on Nikitha like a physical slap. She froze in the doorway, her mind reeling. Jay. He was only an occasional drinker, but what if tonight was different? What if the guilt she had dumped on him—her confessions, her distance—had pushed him over the edge? Was he drinking right now, alone in their villa, drowning in the pain she had caused?
The illusion of the evening shattered completely. She had told herself it would be just dinner and sweet talk. Three hours, no more. But she had let Tharun sweep her away—into his car, his compliments, his touch, his apartment. The kiss had been a line she swore she wouldn’t cross again, yet here she was, lipstick ruined and conscience screaming.
She immediately called jay phone, when Tharun distracted at the fight, the phone was switched off.
She got panicked.
“I… I need to go back home,” she said suddenly, her voice shaky and barely above a whisper.
Tharun turned, disappointment flashing across his handsome face. “Why? We just started. Stay a little longer, Nikitha. I’ve missed you.”
She shook her head, stepping back.
“I forgot… my husband might call on a video call any time. If he sees an unknown place, he’ll get suspicious. I can’t risk it.”
Tharun sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, but he respected her words. “Alright. Let’s go. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
They drove back in tense silence, the city lights blurring past the windows. He dropped her at the villa around 10:10 PM. Nikitha gave him a quick, awkward goodbye and hurried upstairs, waiting until she heard the low hum of his car fade into the night. Only then did she slip downstairs quietly, heart still racing from the evening’s highs and the abrupt crash back to reality.
The moment she opened the door to ground floor, a strong burning smell assaulted her senses
Jay what happen to you.
Jay where are you..
“Jay! Jay, what are you doing?!” she shouted, rushing inside.
The kitchen was a battlefield of good intentions gone wrong. The dosa tawa was coated in blackened, ruined remains. Several failed, misshapen dosas lay scattered on plates like casualties. Jay stood there in his simple lungi and old t-shirt, looking utterly exhausted, sweat beading on his forehead, a spatula still in his hand.
Nikitha’s eyes widened as she scanned the rest of the space. The house was unusually clean—her scattered clothes from the morning neatly folded on the sofa, his shirts ironed and stacked, the floors swept, countertops wiped. It looked tidier than it had in months.
“What are you doing?” she asked, confusion mixing with a pang of something she couldn’t quite name.
Jay glanced at her—taking in the elegant black dress that hugged her figure, the subtle makeup still enhancing her eyes and lips, the slight dishevelment that spoke of an evening spent with another man. His jaw tightened, voice laced with bitter sarcasm.
“What is this? Dress? Oh… so this is how he makes you feel loved?”
He looked her up and down slowly. “You look beautiful. Modern. Sexy. I agree… he has good taste.”
The words stung, but Nikitha shot back defensively, “And I got to know your taste in burnt dosas.”
She know Jay could not stay hungry, she wante to check if there is anything can be cooked for him.
She opened the fridge. The batter container was empty.
“It’s already 10:20.
Why didn’t you eat outside? You never know how to cook properly anyway.”
“I thought I’d try,” Jay said quietly, scbanging at the tawa. “Cleaning the house took time too.”
“Why did you clean?” she asked, surprised and a little unsettled by the effort.
“Felt bored. Wanted to distract myself.” He paused, then added with quiet resignation,
“Also… in the future, I’ll have to take care of things myself.”
Nikitha’s heart twisted painfully. “Glad you realize that. So this is your way of saying you’re changing and sharing responsibilities?”
Jay gave her a tired, defeated look.
“I’ll get a helper for cash. Don’t think too highly of yourself.”
She sighed heavily. Arrogant arrogant arrogant.. she thought to herself.
Talking to him right now felt pointless, like shouting into a storm.
“Come. Let’s go eat something outside. Take the car.”
Jay shook his head firmly. “No. Hotels will be closed by the time we reach. Why are you even hungry? Didn’t he feed you well?”
Nikitha didn’t argue. She knew when Jay was in one of his low moods—he wouldn’t step out if it meant pretending everything was normal.
So she dragged him out locked the house and started walking. Nikitha asked to take the car but Jay said, let eat in small mess hotel. she doesnt want to argue she just followed him.
Jay in his faded lungi and t-shirt, Nikitha still in her royal black dress and heels—the contrast was almost comical on the quiet, dimly lit street. A mismatched pair navigating the remnants of their fractured life.
After a short three-minute walk, they entered a small, humble mess run by an elderly couple.
The old lady at the counter stared openly at them, eyes wide.
“Kid, is she your boss or some rich lady? She’s dressed like this and came here at this hour?”
Jay replied dryly, without missing a beat, “She’s a teacher. in her college this time instead of kids, teachers went for a fancy dress competition at college.”
Nikitha punched his back lightly, half-annoyed, half-amused despite everything.
They settled at a corner table. Three soft idlis each were served with sambar and chutney, steaming and simple.
As they ate in heavy silence, the chewing are the only sound between them, Nikitha’s mind echoed with Jay's earlier words from their conversations: It’s just lust. When it fades, he’ll leave.
She stole secret glances at Jay—his tired eyes, the way he ate, the familiar slope of his shoulders. A few hours ago, she had been in a luxurious setting with Tharun, feeling desired, attended to, romanced like a woman rediscovering herself. But right now, sitting in this modest mess with Jay in his lungi, arguing over burnt attempts at cooking and sharing plain idlis… it felt strangely natural. Real. Grounded in the life they had built, however imperfect.
Yet she knew the truth. She had already crossed too many lines tonight—lines that couldn’t be uncrossed. The pull toward Tharun was intoxicating, but the quiet ache beside Jay was undeniable.
You need to move on, she told herself firmly as they finished the idlies and began the walk back. You need to practice letting Jay go. But even as the thought solidified, a tear slipped down her cheek in the darkness, unseen by the man walking silently beside her.
The kiss was deep, hungry, and consuming. Tharun’s mouth moved against Nikitha’s with growing urgency, his hands gripping her waist as he pressed her against the kitchen wall. Their tongues tangled slowly at first, then with increasing heat. Soft moans escaped her as the intensity built. For a few heated moments, the world outside ceased to exist.
Suddenly — CRASH!
They broke apart instantly, hearts slamming in their chests. Nikitha gasped, her lips swollen and glistening, her carefully applied lipstick smudged. Tharun instinctively stepped in front of her, shielding her body with his own, both of them flushed, breathing heavily, clothes slightly disheveled.
“What the hell was that?” Tharun muttered, his voice low and alert, eyes scanning the door.
Nikitha’s pulse thundered in her ears. “I’ll come with you,” she whispered, though her legs felt unsteady.
What if it’s Jay? What if he followed us? The paranoia clawed at her throat.
Tharun opened the door cautiously, peering into the dimly lit corridor. It wasn’t Jay. It was the middle-aged couple from the opposite flat. The wife, a stout woman in a faded nightie, was berating her drunk husband, who slumped against the wall amid shards of a broken whiskey bottle. The sharp smell of alcohol wafted toward them.
“Why do you drink and destroy yourself every single day?!” the wife screamed, her voice cracking with years of pent-up frustration. “If your son doesn’t listen, talk to him calmly! Instead, you drink and fight… you’re destroying yourself and this family! Look at you—stumbling home like a fool while I manage everything alone!”
The words landed on Nikitha like a physical slap. She froze in the doorway, her mind reeling. Jay. He was only an occasional drinker, but what if tonight was different? What if the guilt she had dumped on him—her confessions, her distance—had pushed him over the edge? Was he drinking right now, alone in their villa, drowning in the pain she had caused?
The illusion of the evening shattered completely. She had told herself it would be just dinner and sweet talk. Three hours, no more. But she had let Tharun sweep her away—into his car, his compliments, his touch, his apartment. The kiss had been a line she swore she wouldn’t cross again, yet here she was, lipstick ruined and conscience screaming.
She immediately called jay phone, when Tharun distracted at the fight, the phone was switched off.
She got panicked.
“I… I need to go back home,” she said suddenly, her voice shaky and barely above a whisper.
Tharun turned, disappointment flashing across his handsome face. “Why? We just started. Stay a little longer, Nikitha. I’ve missed you.”
She shook her head, stepping back.
“I forgot… my husband might call on a video call any time. If he sees an unknown place, he’ll get suspicious. I can’t risk it.”
Tharun sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, but he respected her words. “Alright. Let’s go. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
They drove back in tense silence, the city lights blurring past the windows. He dropped her at the villa around 10:10 PM. Nikitha gave him a quick, awkward goodbye and hurried upstairs, waiting until she heard the low hum of his car fade into the night. Only then did she slip downstairs quietly, heart still racing from the evening’s highs and the abrupt crash back to reality.
The moment she opened the door to ground floor, a strong burning smell assaulted her senses
Jay what happen to you.
Jay where are you..
“Jay! Jay, what are you doing?!” she shouted, rushing inside.
The kitchen was a battlefield of good intentions gone wrong. The dosa tawa was coated in blackened, ruined remains. Several failed, misshapen dosas lay scattered on plates like casualties. Jay stood there in his simple lungi and old t-shirt, looking utterly exhausted, sweat beading on his forehead, a spatula still in his hand.
Nikitha’s eyes widened as she scanned the rest of the space. The house was unusually clean—her scattered clothes from the morning neatly folded on the sofa, his shirts ironed and stacked, the floors swept, countertops wiped. It looked tidier than it had in months.
“What are you doing?” she asked, confusion mixing with a pang of something she couldn’t quite name.
Jay glanced at her—taking in the elegant black dress that hugged her figure, the subtle makeup still enhancing her eyes and lips, the slight dishevelment that spoke of an evening spent with another man. His jaw tightened, voice laced with bitter sarcasm.
“What is this? Dress? Oh… so this is how he makes you feel loved?”
He looked her up and down slowly. “You look beautiful. Modern. Sexy. I agree… he has good taste.”
The words stung, but Nikitha shot back defensively, “And I got to know your taste in burnt dosas.”
She know Jay could not stay hungry, she wante to check if there is anything can be cooked for him.
She opened the fridge. The batter container was empty.
“It’s already 10:20.
Why didn’t you eat outside? You never know how to cook properly anyway.”
“I thought I’d try,” Jay said quietly, scbanging at the tawa. “Cleaning the house took time too.”
“Why did you clean?” she asked, surprised and a little unsettled by the effort.
“Felt bored. Wanted to distract myself.” He paused, then added with quiet resignation,
“Also… in the future, I’ll have to take care of things myself.”
Nikitha’s heart twisted painfully. “Glad you realize that. So this is your way of saying you’re changing and sharing responsibilities?”
Jay gave her a tired, defeated look.
“I’ll get a helper for cash. Don’t think too highly of yourself.”
She sighed heavily. Arrogant arrogant arrogant.. she thought to herself.
Talking to him right now felt pointless, like shouting into a storm.
“Come. Let’s go eat something outside. Take the car.”
Jay shook his head firmly. “No. Hotels will be closed by the time we reach. Why are you even hungry? Didn’t he feed you well?”
Nikitha didn’t argue. She knew when Jay was in one of his low moods—he wouldn’t step out if it meant pretending everything was normal.
So she dragged him out locked the house and started walking. Nikitha asked to take the car but Jay said, let eat in small mess hotel. she doesnt want to argue she just followed him.
Jay in his faded lungi and t-shirt, Nikitha still in her royal black dress and heels—the contrast was almost comical on the quiet, dimly lit street. A mismatched pair navigating the remnants of their fractured life.
After a short three-minute walk, they entered a small, humble mess run by an elderly couple.
The old lady at the counter stared openly at them, eyes wide.
“Kid, is she your boss or some rich lady? She’s dressed like this and came here at this hour?”
Jay replied dryly, without missing a beat, “She’s a teacher. in her college this time instead of kids, teachers went for a fancy dress competition at college.”
Nikitha punched his back lightly, half-annoyed, half-amused despite everything.
They settled at a corner table. Three soft idlis each were served with sambar and chutney, steaming and simple.
As they ate in heavy silence, the chewing are the only sound between them, Nikitha’s mind echoed with Jay's earlier words from their conversations: It’s just lust. When it fades, he’ll leave.
She stole secret glances at Jay—his tired eyes, the way he ate, the familiar slope of his shoulders. A few hours ago, she had been in a luxurious setting with Tharun, feeling desired, attended to, romanced like a woman rediscovering herself. But right now, sitting in this modest mess with Jay in his lungi, arguing over burnt attempts at cooking and sharing plain idlis… it felt strangely natural. Real. Grounded in the life they had built, however imperfect.
Yet she knew the truth. She had already crossed too many lines tonight—lines that couldn’t be uncrossed. The pull toward Tharun was intoxicating, but the quiet ache beside Jay was undeniable.
You need to move on, she told herself firmly as they finished the idlies and began the walk back. You need to practice letting Jay go. But even as the thought solidified, a tear slipped down her cheek in the darkness, unseen by the man walking silently beside her.
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