The Next Morning…
A sharp throb pulsed through Vihaan's temples as he stirred awake. His mouth was dry, the aftereffects of the bhang weighing heavily on him. He shifted beneath the blanket—then froze.
His eyes darted down. Bare skin. His chest uncovered. His lower half tangled in nothing but the blanket. Panic shot through him as he cautiously lifted the cover and his worst fear confirmed itself—he was completely naked.
Heart pounding, he turned his head. Gauri lay beside him, undisturbed, her soft breath steady in slumber, the blanket clinging to the curves of her form. One of her bare shoulders peeked through, her hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.
Memories from the night before surged back in fragments—the laughter, the kisses, the heat of the shower, the urgent closeness… their bodies giving in to the intoxicated haze.
Vihaan's throat tightened. We… we consummated…
In a rush, he scrambled upright, dragging on his underwear, trousers, then hastily buttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. He dared not look at her directly, his face burning.
He turned away, gripping his bracelet with trembling hands. Closing his eyes, he muttered a spell—a golden shimmer wrapped around Gauri, her clothes reappearing over her as though untouched, her dignity preserved.
Still, the reality clawed at him. How will I ever face her…?
He stood by the window, looking out into the morning light, jaw tight, his heart a storm.
Behind him, Gauri stirred faintly, shifting under the blanket, her lashes beginning to flutter open.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, creeping across the bed until they brushed against Gauri's face. She frowned in her sleep, shifting slightly as though resisting the morning.
Vihaan turned, watching her stir, her soft breaths uneven as the light disturbed her slumber. Without a word, he stepped closer and drew the curtains shut, letting the room fall back into a gentle dimness. Gauri relaxed instantly, sinking deeper into the pillow, lost in dreams once more.
A pang of tenderness struck him, but it was quickly drowned by the wave of unease churning inside. He needed space, needed clarity.
Vihaan slipped into the washroom, turning on the shower. Cold water rushed over him, but instead of calm, his mind spun even faster.
What have I done?
He leaned his palms against the wet tiles, the kiss replaying in his head—the sweetness of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the way she clung to him as though she belonged to him.
His heartbeat quickened. He shut his eyes tight, shaking his head as though to erase the memory, but it only grew sharper.
How did I lose control? he thought, guilt and something far more dangerous twisting together in his chest. I wasn't supposed to… not like this.
The water cascaded over him, but it couldn't wash away the confusion that now bound his heart.
Vihaan stepped out of the washroom, water still clinging to the ends of his long hair, now brushed neatly back as he tugged on his black jacket over a crisp shirt and jeans. He paused before the mirror, running the comb through his hair with deliberate care, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of nervousness.
Behind him, Gauri stirred. She yawned, stretching slightly under the blanket, then rubbed her temple with a soft groan. "Uff, my head… it's splitting." She blinked against the dim light, her voice drowsy. "Feels like I didn't sleep at all."
Vihaan froze. His heart began to pound, palms damp as he slowly turned toward her. This is it. How do I even…
Taking a tentative step closer, he cleared his throat. "Gauri… about what happened last night, um… um I—"
Still massaging her temple, she cut him off impatiently. "Arre, if you're going to say something, then say it. Don't just stand there mumbling um-um and irritate me. My head is already aching."
Vihaan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I meant… about last night. Whatever… transpired between us."
Her brows knitted in confusion. "What happened between us?"
The words hit him like a shock. Heat rushed to his face as his mind unwillingly replayed flashes of their night—their lips locked, her hands clinging to him, the warmth of her skin under his. He shifted uncomfortably, voice low. "That… that which happens, you know… I mean…"
Gauri tilted her head, trying to focus through her hangover. "Vihaan, I can't seem to remember anything after drinking that bhang at the Holi function. My mind's just… blank."
For a moment, Vihaan's chest tightened. Then, relief swept over him like a tide. "You… don't remember anything?"
She shook her head, wincing at the movement. "No. But you can tell me." A faint frown crossed her face. "Strange though—I feel so tired, as if I'd done some hard labour the entire night."
Vihaan's jaw clenched, his mind instantly flashing back to their steamy closeness, her lips trembling against his, the heat of her breath on his neck. His cheeks flamed.
Gauri blinked at him, studying his face. "Vihaan… are you sick?"
He jerked. "What?"
"Your cheeks are red," she said innocently, leaning closer. "You're burning up. Do you have a fever?"
"What nonsense," he muttered quickly, stepping back and turning away. "Just… just freshen up, okay?"
Without waiting for her reply, he strode toward the door, leaving Gauri sitting on the bed—confused, curious, and just a little suspicious.