slow-burn

"Jealous?" Mithun asked, crossing his arms.

Mukesh scoffed. "Of what? Some random guy trying to get into your pants?"

Mithun's jaw tightened. "Funny. That's exactly what you did to me."

Mukesh had no answer to that. He had nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth, the weight of everything he refused to say pressing down on him.

Mithun exhaled, shaking his head. "I'm done, Mukesh. You don't get to ruin me and then act possessive when I try to move on."

Mukesh clenched his fists. "I never meant to ruin you."

"Then what did you mean to do?" Mithun's voice cracked, and suddenly, Mukesh hated himself a little more.

Silence stretched between them, thick with words unsaid.

Finally, Mithun let out a tired laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You can't even answer that, can you?"

Mukesh hated this. Hated that he didn't know how to fix it. Hated that, for once in his life, his charm, his arrogance—none of it worked.

Because for the first time, he wasn't trying to play a game.

For the first time, he was scared.

Mithun took a step back. "I deserve better, Mukesh." His voice was quieter now, final. "And I think you know that, too."

And then, without waiting for a response, Mithun turned and walked away.

Mukesh didn't stop him.

Because for the first time in his life, he realized—he might have just lost the only person who ever truly saw him.

And it was his fault.

The night had been over for hours, but Mukesh was still standing on the balcony, staring at the city lights like they held the answer to his problems. The whiskey in his hand had gone warm, forgotten. His fingers curled around the glass, grip tightening with every second that passed since Mithun walked away.

Since Mithun walked away from him.

He should have gone after him. Said something. Anything. But for the first time, Mukesh found himself speechless.

"I've seen that look before," Rhea's voice cut through the silence. Mukesh didn't turn, but he felt her presence beside him. "You only get that look when you've royally fucked up."

Mukesh exhaled sharply. "That's obvious, huh?"

"Oh, painfully obvious." Rhea leaned against the railing, studying him. "So, what's your plan?"

Mukesh frowned. "Plan?"

She rolled her eyes. "To fix this. Because you and I both know you can't stand the idea of Mithun actually moving on."

Mukesh's jaw clenched. "He wouldn't."

Rhea arched a brow. "He just did."

And there it was—that awful, twisting feeling in his chest.

"I don't know how to fix it," Mukesh admitted, surprising even himself.

Rhea sighed, shaking her head. "You know, for a guy who claims to be good with words, you're really bad at saying the important ones." 

Mukesh scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is," she countered. "You hurt him, Mukesh. Repeatedly. You don't get to be mad at him for walking away."

Mukesh didn't respond. He hated that she was right.

Rhea placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, whatever you decide—figure it out fast. Because if you wait too long, Mithun will move on. And you?" She smirked. "You'll still be here, brooding on a balcony, regretting every damn thing."

With that, she left him alone with his thoughts.

And for the first time in his life, Mukesh realized he had something to lose.

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