Morning light streamed softly through the curtains, brushing the room with a golden glow. Preety stirred awake, her lashes fluttering as she stretched slightly, only to find the space beside her empty. The sheets still held Romy's warmth, but he was gone.
She sat up quickly, her heart skipping. A faint sound of water running from the bathroom told her he was already showering.
In quiet haste, she slipped out of bed, smoothing the sheets and folding the blanket with careful hands. Her fingers moved fast, as though tidying the bed might somehow erase the discomfort from the night before. Once finished, she opened the cupboard and tucked the bed linen away, breathing heavily.
On the other side of the door, Romy stood under the stream of warm water, eyes closed, head bowed.
Why didn't I feel anything? he asked himself silently.
He had slept the entire night next to Preety, his wife. Yet not once had his heart raced. Not once had desire stirred naturally within him. It confused him, frustrated him.
"In Switzerland," he whispered to himself, "just one look at her and my heartbeat would go wild… I was drawn to her like a magnet. But now…"
He pressed his palms against the cool tile wall.
"Now, even as I held her close, I felt… nothing. No spark. No pull."
His brows furrowed.
Was it me? Or is she no longer the same?
other side.....
A soft shaft of morning light spilled into the room, brushing against Monty's face. His eyes fluttered open, heavy with a hangover and the fog of too many blurred memories. As he turned his head to adjust to the light, his breath caught mid-air.
Naina lay beside him....
The covers clung loosely to her skin, her back half-turned towards him. The sheets were crumpled, and scattered on the bed and her bare shoulders were quiet traces—just enough to whisper something had happened. Something intimate. Something Monty couldn't remember.
Monty froze.
His heart began to pound against his ribs like a warning bell. A chill spread through him, not from the morning air, but from dread. He glanced down and realized—he wasn't fully dressed either.
"No... this can't be," he muttered, his voice hoarse and shaking.
He sat up abruptly, the weight of the moment crushing him like a wave. Bits and pieces flashed in his mind—drinks, a stranger's face, heartbreak pulling him into a reckless blur. But Naina? How had he ended up in this room… with her?
Monty jolted upright, his voice raw with fury."You liar... you filthy snake! What the hell have you done to me?"
Naina, wrapped in only a sheet, rose slowly from the bed, her expression painted with indignation and cool defiance."You brought me here, Monty," she said with forced calm. "Don't act like I forced myself on you."
Monty's fists clenched. His eyes burned, not from alcohol, but from betrayal."Even if I were drowning in poison, I would never touch someone like you." His voice broke with disgust. "You think I wouldn't remember? You think I'd fall for this trap?"
Naina's voice sharpened. "Your sister has poisoned you against me. She's always hated what we had… she told you lies because she can't stand seeing you with someone who loves you."
That word—love—only made Monty snap. His anger erupted as he slapped her, the sting echoing in the charged silence of the room.
"Don't you dare speak of love."
He stormed out, yanking on his clothes, his face pale, heart racing. The door slammed behind him like a verdict.
Left alone, Naina held her cheek, not with pain but with rising rage. Her breathing deepened as her eyes fell on the nearby camera—the red light blinking like a devil's eye.
She picked it up and played the footage. A twisted smile began to curl on her lips as she watched.
"If he wants war," she whispered to herself, "then war he shall have."
As the screen flickered with the video she'd carefully staged, Naina's expression hardened. Her eyes gleamed—not with heartbreak, but with vengeance.