9 hours ago
Chapter 15 - The Door
8:15 p.m.
Jeeva’s phone lit up in the dark car.
Tara:
He’s eating.
Almost nearing climax.
Will leave soon.
Wait outside until I text.
The word climax hit him harder than it should have.
He read the message twice. The logical part of his brain knew she meant the meal was almost over. The rest of his brain refused to accept the safer meaning.
He stayed in the car, engine off, eyes fixed on their floor.
Back in noon, he had remembered the small Wi-Fi camera still lying in his office drawer — the same one he had used to spy on Tara at work. He had meant to bring it home by noon itself and hide it somewhere in the living room. But his manager never left him free today. The realisation only made his mood worse.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen.
No second message came.
8:30 p.m.
Patience snapped.
He called her.
The phone rang six times and went to voicemail.
He called again. Same result.
Something cold and sharp moved through his chest.
He got out of the car, walked into the building, and took the lift. When the doors opened on their floor he already knew he was breaking the agreement by entering early. He did it anyway.
The main door was not locked.
Jeeva stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him.
He could not see Sam or Tara.
The living room looked ordinary at first glance.
Three plates on the dining table. One still had a little food left. Two glasses near the sink. The smell of biryani and spiced chicken hung in the air.
But his eyes refused to stay on the safe details.
The dining chairs were not pushed in properly. Two of them stood at odd angles, as if people had left them in a hurry. On the table itself, several vessels and the serving spoon had been shifted all the way to the far edge — the way things move when someone is pressed against the table and needs space.
Nothing was clear proof.
Everything could still be explained by a normal dinner.
Yet every small thing arranged itself into the same picture in his head.
He walked toward the bedroom.
The bed was neatly made. No clothes on the floor. No obvious signs.
But the bedside lamp was on, and one corner of the bedsheet was slightly pulled out, as though someone had sat there or lain down for a while and then tried to tidy it.
Then he heard the water.
The bathroom shower was running.
Jeeva stopped in the middle of the room.
Steam had already begun to seep under the door.
The sound of water hitting tiles filled the silence.
His mind moved faster than he could stop it.
What if the door opens and both of them step out?
What if Sam is still here?
What if the dinner, the shifted vessels on the table… were only the beginning?
Even if she is alone why she needs to bath now?
The water stopped.
A few seconds of complete silence followed.
Then the bathroom lock clicked.
The handle began to turn.
Jeeva stood frozen, eyes locked on the slowly opening door, every worst possibility he had tried to reject all evening now standing right in front of him, waiting to walk out.
8:15 p.m.
Jeeva’s phone lit up in the dark car.
Tara:
He’s eating.
Almost nearing climax.
Will leave soon.
Wait outside until I text.
The word climax hit him harder than it should have.
He read the message twice. The logical part of his brain knew she meant the meal was almost over. The rest of his brain refused to accept the safer meaning.
He stayed in the car, engine off, eyes fixed on their floor.
Back in noon, he had remembered the small Wi-Fi camera still lying in his office drawer — the same one he had used to spy on Tara at work. He had meant to bring it home by noon itself and hide it somewhere in the living room. But his manager never left him free today. The realisation only made his mood worse.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen.
No second message came.
8:30 p.m.
Patience snapped.
He called her.
The phone rang six times and went to voicemail.
He called again. Same result.
Something cold and sharp moved through his chest.
He got out of the car, walked into the building, and took the lift. When the doors opened on their floor he already knew he was breaking the agreement by entering early. He did it anyway.
The main door was not locked.
Jeeva stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him.
He could not see Sam or Tara.
The living room looked ordinary at first glance.
Three plates on the dining table. One still had a little food left. Two glasses near the sink. The smell of biryani and spiced chicken hung in the air.
But his eyes refused to stay on the safe details.
The dining chairs were not pushed in properly. Two of them stood at odd angles, as if people had left them in a hurry. On the table itself, several vessels and the serving spoon had been shifted all the way to the far edge — the way things move when someone is pressed against the table and needs space.
Nothing was clear proof.
Everything could still be explained by a normal dinner.
Yet every small thing arranged itself into the same picture in his head.
He walked toward the bedroom.
The bed was neatly made. No clothes on the floor. No obvious signs.
But the bedside lamp was on, and one corner of the bedsheet was slightly pulled out, as though someone had sat there or lain down for a while and then tried to tidy it.
Then he heard the water.
The bathroom shower was running.
Jeeva stopped in the middle of the room.
Steam had already begun to seep under the door.
The sound of water hitting tiles filled the silence.
His mind moved faster than he could stop it.
What if the door opens and both of them step out?
What if Sam is still here?
What if the dinner, the shifted vessels on the table… were only the beginning?
Even if she is alone why she needs to bath now?
The water stopped.
A few seconds of complete silence followed.
Then the bathroom lock clicked.
The handle began to turn.
Jeeva stood frozen, eyes locked on the slowly opening door, every worst possibility he had tried to reject all evening now standing right in front of him, waiting to walk out.
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