As Rohit was called upstairs, he silently followed Ragini's footsteps.
The main lights were off, and only a few zero-watt bulbs lit the hallway, casting a faint glow to guide the way.
Ragini briefly showed him around—his room, the joint kitchen, and the dining area.
It was well past midnight. Before disappearing into her room, she told him to join her in the kitchen if he was hungry.
Rohit stepped into his room and opened the lights.
It was spacious—a single large bedroom with a study table and a desktop computer. A customized PlayStation sat nearby, and the attached bathroom completed the setup. The place felt more like a cozy bunker built to survive any future apocalypse.
Just then, his stomach growled. The hospital had only given him a few sandwiches and some bananas—hardly enough for dinner.
Snapping out of his daze, he looked for the wardrobe, changed into a loose T-shirt and joggers, and headed to the kitchen.
The kitchen was dim, lit only by a flickering tubelight.
He opened the fridge and began rummaging through the containers, finding a few neatly preserved dishes.
Just as he was deciding what to eat, the soft sound of footsteps reached his ears.
Turning to the entrance, he froze.
Ragini had returned, and the sight of her made his jaw drop.
She was wearing a blue nightwear with a deep V-neck which looked more like a mini one-piece. It hung loosely on her frame, yet every movement seemed to highlight her curves in all the right ways.
A strip of her matching black bra peeked from the neckline, making her soft cleavage all the more soothing to his eyes.
She walked past him silently. Her movements were casual.
"What do you want?" she asked softly.
"Noodles," Rohit replied without thinking.
She raised an eyebrow, almost scoffing. "Oats."
Without waiting, she took out a jar of milk, poured some oats into a bowl and began preparing them at the counter with practiced ease.
He smirked to himself, thinking, "So this is the secret of her ageless beauty… bland, tasteless oats."
He pulled out a chair across the dining table to get a better look at her. She had her back to him as she worked.
Her tall frame—he'd guessed around 5'8"—made the outfit appear even shorter than it probably was. His gaze inevitably trailed down to where the dress hugged her thighs, clinging just a little too dangerously.
For a moment, Rohit found himself tempted. If she bent even slightly, maybe...
But she didn't. Time zipped by unnoticed.
Then suddenly, she turned—and caught him staring at wrong place.
He quickly looked away, unsure of what to say or how to act.
She handed him the bowl she'd just prepared and took her seat across from him, her cup of hot milk in hand.
They sat facing each other in silence.
Only the soft clink of spoons and the faint slurp of milk broke the stillness.
The air still crackled with the tension of what had happened earlier. But neither of them said a word.
Then, without looking at him, Ragini asked:
"Why did you say that?"
Rohit looked at her and asked innocently,"What do you mean by what I said? Any reference?"
She finally looked up. "The love. Back there. You said you loved it."
He blinked, trying to recall the moment. "Oh… that. I don't know. It just felt… right to say." Then he turned his attention back to what he was doing—completely unfazed.
She studied his face. He wasn't mocking her. He wasn't trying to provoke. He was just… being honest.
She had been stressing over those words all this time, only to find this boy tossing them around like air.
Did words like mom and son mean nothing to him?Could memory loss really change someone this much?
"You've changed," she murmured.
He met her eyes. "I don't know if I've changed, Mom… but I know what I feel hasn't."
Her expression darkened. A flicker of conflict passed across her face.
Ragini drank the last sip of her milk in silence. As she stood up, she paused at the doorway and added, almost without looking back:
"Before you sleep… come to my room. And don't call me 'Mom.'"
Rohit raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. But the hunger he felt now had nothing to do with food.
Moments later,
As Rohit entered her room, a soft red glow bathed the space in warmth and quiet tension.
But the initial flicker of excitement in his eyes dimmed as soon as he saw her.
Ragini was sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, her expression distant. Tear stains lined the edges of her cheeks, though she tried to wipe them away discreetly as he stepped closer.
Without meeting his eyes, she gestured to the bed."Sit."
He obeyed, cautiously.
Then, her voice came again—low, shaky, but direct:"Lower your pants."
Rohit stared at her.
She repeated herself, this time with a hint of insistence.
But, Rohit shook his head in a firm and cold denial.
"No."
Her eyes widened, unsettled."What… what went wrong?"
He exhaled slowly. "Because I don't feel like it."
Ragini ran her fingers through her hair, as if trying to claw her frustration out of her scalp. Her voice cracked, trying to reason:"You think I want to do this? If not for the treatment, for your condition, for your future… I wouldn't have arranged all of this. What else do you want from me?"
Rohit looked at her gently, but firmly."That's exactly why. Because it feels forced. Simulation or not, it shouldn't feel like I'm taking advantage of someone who's just fulfilling an duty. It makes me feel guilty."
She tried to suppress the tension building in her chest. The doctor's words echoed in her mind. Still, she forced a smile, softened her voice."Rohit… this is important for your recovery. For your sense of grounding. No one is judging you. No one blames you."
But Rohit's next words hit like a bolt.
"Then why did you slap me earlier?"
He looked her in the eyes."Did my touch disgust you? Did it make you feel like I was a bug crawling on your skin?"
Her breath caught, but he continued.
"I can't do this if you feel nothing for me. I'm not selfish enough to use someone who doesn't feel it. I'm sorry, Mrs. Singhania. My conscience won't allow it."
Ragini winced at the title.
Trying to regain control, she snapped—almost reflexively:"Don't be selfish. Just listen—"
"No," Rohit cut in. "You're the one being selfish. You're not even listening to yourself."
Silence!
Ragini's lips trembled. For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, curling her legs up to her chest, she looked toward the dim-lit wall and whispered,"Life is such a circus, Rohit. We think we have control. But life… it reminds us we don't. Every time."
She took a deep breath and continued, voice quieter now:
"If I'm being honest… yes. I felt something. Something I shouldn't have. And that terrifies me."
Her voice cracked.
"I'm married. Bound to someone else. And yet… I felt it. I felt good. And I hate myself for it."
She wiped another tear from her cheek."You want a simple answer, but there isn't one. You're young. You have time. Maybe what you're feeling is just infatuation. One day, it'll fade… and you'll regret all this. You'll hate me for letting it happen. You'll say I ruined you."
She choked back a sob."And worst of all… I'll be remembered as the mother who felt pleasure where she shouldn't have."
Rohit gently reached forward and cupped her cheeks.
"You're wrong," he said softly."To me, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And the best mother I could ever ask for."
He paused, searching her eyes.
"I know there are lines we shouldn't cross. But it still takes courage to admit what we need… even if we stop ourselves. I'm just glad you're honest with me."
He gently wiped her tears.
"Don't cry because of someone like me. You don't deserve that pain."
She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him, and he embraced her tightly in return.
As they held each other, she thought of all the people who had claimed to love her before—hollow lovers, empty words. And yet, this boy—this conflicted, broken boy—held her like she was the only person in the world.
She whispered with a nervous laugh,"And… don't say 'mom' when we're like this."
Rohit smiled, whispering,"Your wish is my command… my lady."
She giggled faintly, but before the mood could shift again, he pulled back slightly and stood up.
"I think," he said gently, "we've had enough for one night. I dont wish to burden you with your thoughts."
He leaned down, pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, and lwhispered near her ear, "Good night, sweetheart."
And with that, he left, quietly closing the door behind him.
She remained on the bed, stunned. Her heart beating too fast. Her breath caught between guilt, relief, and something she could no longer name.
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Author's Note:Guys, please vote! I'm really glad about the views and all, but votes are important for the book's survival, especially in its early phase.