The strange thing about desire is that once it finds a way into your life, it refuses to leave quietly.
Kabir Malhotra had become exactly that for me.
A quiet storm I couldn't control.
The night air in Mumbai felt heavier than usual. Humid, slow, filled with distant car horns and the murmur of nightlife. I stood outside The Monkey Bar with a cigarette between my fingers, watching the smoke curl upward.
It was supposed to calm me.
Instead, it made me think of him.
Kabir had a way of slipping into my mind when I least expected it. The way he looked at me. The way his voice softened when he said my name.
The way my body responded every time he came close.
"You always smoke when you're thinking too much."
I didn't turn around.
His voice alone was enough to make my chest tighten.
"You're stalking me now?" I muttered.
Kabir walked beside me, leaning casually against the railing. "No. I just know where you go when you're trying to hide."
I glanced at him.
Big mistake.
He looked annoyingly good tonight. Clean shirt, sleeves rolled slightly, hair messy from the evening breeze. But it wasn't just that.
It was the way he looked at me.
Not like someone who wanted something temporary.
Like someone who had already decided.
"You should stop looking at me like that," I said.
"Like what?"
"Like you know something I don't."
Kabir smiled softly.
"I do."
I scoffed. "Enlighten me."
His voice dropped slightly.
"I know you want me."
The cigarette almost slipped from my fingers.
"You're delusional."
"Am I?"
He stepped closer.
Not touching.
But close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body.
My pulse immediately betrayed me.
"You kissed me back," he said quietly.
"That didn't mean anything."
"You touched me back."
"That was a mistake."
Kabir studied my face carefully, like he was reading every small reaction I tried to hide.
Then he said something that caught me off guard.
"I've never done this before."
I frowned. "Done what?"
"This. Us."
"You're forty years old," I said. "You expect me to believe that?"
His expression didn't change.
"I'm serious."
I laughed once, short and dry. "You're telling me you've never been with a man before?"
Kabir shook his head slowly.
"I've never been with anyone."
That made me pause.
Completely.
"You're joking."
"I'm not."
The bar noise faded behind us. The distant music, the chatter, the glasses clinking—it all seemed far away suddenly.
"You're telling me you're a virgin," I said slowly.
Kabir nodded once.
I stared at him.
For a moment I couldn't decide if I should laugh, feel bad, or just walk away.
"You're lying," I said.
"I'm not."
"Why?"
Kabir leaned against the railing beside me.
"For years I told myself I was straight," he said quietly. "It was easier. My family expected it. Riya believed it."
That name made my stomach tighten.
"Then why me?" I asked.
Kabir looked directly into my eyes.
"Because the first time I saw you… I stopped lying to myself."
I hated the way those words affected me.
I hated that something in my chest shifted.
I turned away quickly, lighting another cigarette even though I hadn't finished the first one.
"You're making a mistake," I muttered.
Kabir didn't argue.
He simply stepped closer again.
And this time, his hand gently touched my wrist.
The contact was soft.
But it sent heat straight through me.
"You feel it too," he said quietly.
I exhaled smoke slowly.
"I feel a lot of things."
"Like what?"
I looked at him.
Annoyance.
Curiosity.
And something far more dangerous.
"Like you're going to ruin my life."
Kabir smiled faintly.
"Maybe."
His thumb brushed slightly against my wrist.
That tiny movement made my breathing slow.
The tension between us had shifted.
Not explosive.
Not reckless.
But deeper.
More intimate.
And far more dangerous than before.
Because now it wasn't just physical.
Now it was honest.
And honesty, I've learned, is far more terrifying than desire.