Bhargav's POV
The streetlights flickered above me like tired eyes refusing to shut. Each one buzzed faintly, casting shadows that danced on the pavement with every step I took. My feet felt like they were sinking into the ground, the weight of what had happened dragging me lower and lower with each step.
The night air bit into my skin, but it wasn't just the cold. It was me. I felt hollow. Contaminated. Like I'd stepped out of my own body and left the real Bhargav behind—trapped in that room, beside that broken girl, wrapped in regret and things we could never undo.
What had we done?
What had I done?
I hate myself.
I don't deserve to breathe.
I better die.
The thought flashed like a scream behind my eyes. I shook my head hard, as if I could knock it out. No. That wouldn't fix anything. That wouldn't make her forget the pain. That wouldn't erase the betrayal we both committed against ourselves.
As I entered my house, the porch light at home glowed like a watchful eye. Of course it was on. Indhu always left it on. She never slept peacefully until I was home—even if she acted like she didn't care sometimes. That tiny light—it meant safety, meant love, meant home.
I didn't feel like I deserved it tonight.
The front door creaked as I pushed it open. The moment I stepped inside, I knew I wasn't going to slip past unnoticed.
Indhu stood in the middle of the living room, arms folded tight across her chest. She was barefoot, wearing an oversized T-shirt, her hair messy from tossing in bed. But her eyes—her eyes were fire.
"Where were you?" she asked sharply. Her voice echoed in the quiet house.
I didn't answer.
She took a step closer and sniffed the air. Her expression shifted from anger to disbelief.
"You reek of alcohol," she hissed. "Don't tell me you drank?!"
I didn't have time to explain. Didn't get a chance to lie.
SLAP.
Her palm hit the side of my face with more hurt than force.
My head tilted slightly from the impact, but it didn't sting. Not even a bit. I was already too numb.
"I deserved that," I murmured, still not looking her in the eyes.
"Damn right you did!" she snapped, voice cracking on the edge of worry. "You've never touched alcohol before! What the hell happened, Bhargav?!"
I stood there, silent. The lump in my throat refused to budge.
Then—Varsha.
Her mouth on that senior. His hands on her waist. Her laughter. My world crumbling.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "She cheated on me."
Indhu's breath caught. She froze, just like that.
"I saw her today. At that seniors' bar. She wasn't alone," I added bitterly. "She was with… someone older. Someone who's not even in college anymore."
Indhu's face fell in an instant. Her anger dissolved like steam. In a heartbeat, she was in front of me, her hand rising—not to strike, but to touch. She cupped my face gently, her thumb brushing against my cheek, right where she'd slapped me moments ago.
"Oh Bhargav…" she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
I nodded once, jaw clenched to keep everything in. I couldn't break. Not here. Not yet.
"I didn't know what else to do," I whispered hoarsely. "I needed to forget. Just for a bit. That's why I drank."
She pulled me into a hug. Her arms wrapped around me, tight and trembling. I didn't hug back. I couldn't. My limbs were still in another world—stuck in a room filled with broken pieces of me and Siri.
Her warmth couldn't reach me.
I gently pulled away. "I just want to sleep."
As I turned to walk toward my room, something pulled me back. Siri's sobs echoed in my mind again. Her broken voice. Her shivering form under the blanket. The way she pushed me away—not just from her room, but from her soul.
I stopped in my tracks and looked over my shoulder. "Siri was cheated too," I said quietly.
Indhu blinked, confused. "What?"
"Abhi…. He cheated on her," I continued, voice flat. "She found out tonight. She… she saw him. And some other woman."
Indhu's eyes widened. "Oh my god. No wonder she wasn't answering my texts tonight."
"She was worse than me," I added hollowly. "Crying. Shaking. I dropped her home."
"Is she okay?" Indhu's tone changed completely. Gone was the anger, replaced with that fierce protectiveness I'd seen since we were kids.
"I don't know," I whispered. "Please go check on her. She… she shouldn't be alone right now."
I didn't tell her the rest. I didn't tell her what happened after I dropped Siri home. I didn't have the courage. If I opened my mouth again, the truth might fall out and ruin everything.
Indhu didn't wait another second.
She ran.
Barefoot, hair still messy, not even bothering to grab a dupatta or her phone.
She ran straight to Siri's house without a blink of hesitation.
Because that's her best friend.
And she knew—somehow, instinctively—that something far worse than a breakup had taken place.
I watched from the doorway as her silhouette disappeared into the dark.
And then, I shut the door behind me.
And fell apart.
….
Siri's POV
The knock came fast and loud, like a storm hammering against my door.
I didn't move.
I stayed curled up on my bed, knees drawn to my chest, blanket twisted and damp with tears. My room reeked of unwashed clothes, unopened food, and something darker—something like shame.
"Siri!" Indhu's voice broke through the silence like a lifeline. "Open the door! Please, open the door!"
I turned my head just enough to stare at the knob. I didn't want to move. Couldn't. My muscles ached from disuse, my mouth was dry from not speaking. But something in her voice cracked through the wall I'd built.
"Please…" she begged. "I know you're in there."
With the last ounce of strength I didn't know I still had, I pulled myself from the bed. My feet were bare, my steps uneven. The lock clicked open.
Indhu didn't wait for me to speak. She didn't wait to be invited in. She just rushed inside, eyes scanning me from head to toe like I was a patient bleeding out.
"Siri…" Her voice shattered as she took me in—my sunken eyes, my dry lips, the hoodie I'd worn for days, sleeves tugged down to hide my trembling fingers.
I didn't say anything.
She wrapped her arms around me.
And I broke.
I collapsed into her like a wave collapsing into the shore, sobs ripping from my chest without form or language. I cried into her shoulder—loud, ugly cries. The kind that scraped from the inside. The kind that left nothing behind.
She didn't ask anything.
She just held me.
She let me cry, and cry, and cry.
Her hand stroked my hair slowly, like we were children again and this was just another nightmare I'd wake up from.
But it wasn't a nightmare.
This was real.
"I can't…" I whispered through choked breaths. "I can't anymore, Indhu…"
She pulled back slightly, just enough to see my face. Her eyes were rimmed with tears now too. "You don't have to explain anything. Not now. I'm here, okay? I'm here."
I shook my head violently. "Everything is ruined. I'm ruined."
"No," she said firmly. "Don't say that. Whatever happened—whatever they did—you're not ruined. You're hurt. That's all. And it's okay to hurt."
I looked at her, wishing I could say more, confess everything. But I couldn't. Not yet.
I couldn't tell her what I'd done.
I couldn't tell her how low I'd sunk.
So I just held on to her again, clinging like she was the only thread holding me to the earth.
Because she was.
To be continued....