Rohit blinked at the message from Ragini, the last traces of sleep still fogging his mind. His body felt heavy, but worry pushed him to his feet. She'd had a rough day—he couldn't just ignore her.
The corridor outside was washed in a faint, sickly green glow from the zero-watt bulb. The light flickered now and then, making the shadows crawl along the walls. His footsteps echoed softly against the floor as he made his way toward the far end—where Ragini's room was.
When he pushed the door open, a strange wave of déjà vu hit him. The room looked almost the same as before—bathed in dim red light, curtains drawn, the faint scent of jasmine in the air. But this time, Ragini wasn't sitting with her tear-streaked face or trembling hands.
She was lying on the bed, cocooned in her blanket, her face calm and unreadable in the crimson hue.
Rohit hesitated at the threshold before stepping closer.
"Ragini… you awake?" he whispered.
No response.
He reached out, nudging her hand gently. Her fingers were cool, but not alarmingly so. The silence stretched, and unease flickered in his chest.
He folded back the blanket slightly — she was still in her saree, her chest rising and falling slowly. Her pulse was steady.
He exhaled, half-relieved. Maybe she'd simply fallen asleep.
He adjusted the blanket back and was about to leave when a soft, pleading voice stopped him.
"Rohit… please stop."
She hadn't turned to face him, but her voice trembled with something unsaid. She had been awake all along, gathering the courage to speak.
He sat at the edge of the bed, on the left corner. "Don't worry," he said quietly. "I'm here."
The silence returned, thicker this time. Then, barely above a whisper:
"Can you… stay beside me? Tonight I feel very lonely."
Rohit hesitated. Not because he didn't want to, but because her voice carried a depth he hadn't heard before — a mix of weariness and quiet desperation. Slowly, he lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped in beside her. His arm slid gently around her waist, his breath brushing her ear.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, "don't worry. I'm here."
She caught his hand, still without turning to face him. Her voice was distant, thoughtful. "Do you really mean what you said earlier?"
He leaned closer, his lips near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Word for word. All of it. More than that — I love you as a woman, and I want you by my side forever."
A faint tremor went through her. "You know I'm married."
Rohit's grip on her hand tightened, not in force but in reassurance. "That changes nothing. You're a woman meant to be loved. I happen to be the one who's fallen for you. Whether you accept me or not is your choice. But I'll keep longing for you."
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. She trembled again, but this time didn't pull away.
Ragini had been carrying this weight for years. Tonight, she had decided she couldn't hold it any longer.
"You know, Rohit…" Her voice cracked slightly. "Me and my husband are only partners in name. We don't even share the same bed anymore. It wasn't always like this — there was a time when he touched me every day, every night. I mistook his lust for love. But I was just one of many. After our second child, his interest faded. Later, I found out why. Affairs. So many affairs. At first, it was hidden. Then it was open. My worth meant nothing."
Her voice turned bitter. "He told me I was worthless because I hadn't given him a son. He discarded me like a roadside item whose value had dimmed. I was the mother of his two children, and he gave me no shred of respect."
Tears welled in her eyes as she stared into the darkness. "What was I supposed to do then? I had to be strong. To secure the future of my children. To make myself important to the family. And then… he brought you here."
She took Rohit's hand and placed it on her chest. "You were four years old. He said he was adopting you, but he never told me why. I asked if you were the male child he had been seeking from other women. He said nothing. His silence kept me uncertain. Still, I did my duty. I never compromised. But every time I saw you, it stirred rage and disgust. And perhaps that's why I was so cold
Finally, she turned to face him. Her eyes searched his, shimmering with years of unanswered questions."But you were always there… always looking at me with those same innocent eyes, full of longing. You never questioned me, never hated me — not then, not now. Why, Rohit? Why do you still love me, after everything I've done to you..?"
"Shhh…" Rohit whispered, gently pressing a finger to her lips. "You've suffered enough, my dear. None of it was your fault."
Rohit brushed his thumb over her lips and smiled softly. "Feelings don't need reasons. At first, it was attraction — wanting to be close. But now I see your worth. You're meant to be loved. And not being of the same blood… I feel blessed, not guilty."
He wiped her tears with his fingers and drew her close. "And I know you need it as much as I do. So let me love you tonight. Leave your past, and we'll forge a new future."
He leaned in and kissed her.
At first, she didn't move as Rohit's lips brushed hers, but then she cupped his cheeks and kissed him back.It was a soft, trembling kiss, more of a confession than desire. Their lips parted, and tongues danced with a quiet, searing passion.For a moment, time slowed; years of distance, guilt, and unspoken ache dissolved into that single breath they shared.
When he drew back, her eyes glistened in the red glow.Her voice came out as a whisper, almost breaking."Rohit… will you do me a favor?"
Rohit held her arms gently. "Tell me, my queen."
She leaned into his palm, closing her eyes. A faint, sorrowful smile touched her lips."Then… just for a while," she murmured, her tone almost pleading, "let me hold you like a mother should have. Just once… let me feel that I still have something left to give."
The words struck him in a way he couldn't name. He didn't answer — only let her pull him close until his head rested near her shoulder. She slid her saree, unbuttoned her blouse and let one breast slip free from her bra. The breast looked creamy and soft, the nipple erect as if demanding attention.
He gulped at the sight, saliva pooling in his mouth. Since the first moment he had touched her, he had wanted to taste it.
But one hand was still bandaged, which made the situation awkward and limiting.
Ragini seemed to sense his struggle. She leaned over him gently, as if comforting a sleeping child, guiding him without words. He closed his eyes, letting her curves press against his lips, and gave a soft, tentative suck.
There was no milk, nothing,except only the heat, the closeness, and the electric intimacy of the moment.
A slow understanding settled over him as he saw her shiver with closed eyes. It was a natural response to stress and simulation, a subtle, intimate reaction he recognized from experience.
He pressed closer with gentle insistence, wanting to ease her tension and bring her pleasure.
"Mmm~"
Ragini trembled as a faint moan escaped her lips.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, trembling, uncertain, yet full of warmth and yearning. After a long while, she felt it — the sensation of being wanted, being loved, being desired.