3. The Sound of a Storm Brewing

“Some temptations are not meant to be resisted. They are meant to be surrendered to—fully, recklessly, unapologetically.”

The next morning brought no clarity.

Kaira sat at the breakfast table, her eyes scanning an untouched piece of toast while Aviraaj read through business emails on his tablet. The silence was sterile—too clean, too practiced. Like they were strangers pretending to be a couple.

Aviraaj looked up, his eyes scanning her face. “You didn’t sleep well again.”

She forced a smile. “Insomnia. Probably too much caffeine yesterday.”

He nodded absently, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. Not really. His eyes lingered too long. Like he could sense the fracture lines beneath her skin.

“I was thinking,” he began slowly, “maybe we need a break.”

Her heart jumped. “A break?”

“Not from each other,” he said quickly, reaching for her hand. “God, no. I mean a break together. A getaway. Somewhere just the two of us. Away from the city. Away from all this noise.”

She stared at him, throat tight.

A getaway.

She knew what he was doing. He was trying to save them.

And that made her ache with guilt.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly, withdrawing her hand.

Aviraaj gave a faint nod, the corners of his mouth pulling into a small, uncertain smile. “Okay.”

At the university, Kaira walked the halls like a ghost. The students blurred into a background hum, their laughter and footsteps falling away as her thoughts spiraled inward.

She entered her office and shut the door behind her, leaning against it for support.

Her phone vibrated again.

Unknown Number: “Do you always run away after a night like that?”

She deleted the message.

Two seconds later, another came.

“Or are you afraid of what you felt?”

Her fingers trembled.

Block him, Kaira. Block him now.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she stared at the screen until her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Her breathing grew uneven.

Then, in a moment of weakness, she typed:

“What do you want?”

The reply came instantly.

“You. Again.”

That night, she dreamed of him.

Not of his body—but of his voice. Dark and rich, curling around her thoughts like smoke. He whispered her name over and over, as if it were both a prayer and a curse.

When she woke, her pillow was damp with tears.

She turned to look at Aviraaj, sleeping peacefully beside her. His arm was flung across the bed, his breathing slow and even. The moonlight touched his features with soft grace.

He looked beautiful. Safe. Familiar.

But she didn’t feel safe anymore.

She felt… hunted.

Like desire itself had grown claws and dug into her skin.

The next day, she stayed after her lectures, hiding in her office long after the halls had emptied. She didn’t want to go home—not to Aviraaj, not to the lies tightening around her throat.

At 7:14 p.m., her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: “Still pretending?”

She closed her eyes.

“Where did you go?” she typed.

“Why? You miss me already?”

“That night… it was a mistake.”

A long pause.

“Mistakes don’t make your hands shake, sweetheart.”

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Then another message came.

“Meet me. One hour. Same hotel. Same room.”

Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely breathe.

This was her chance to say no.

To walk away.

To be the woman Aviraaj believed she was.

But instead… she stood up, picked up her bag, and walked out into the rain.

Room 702.

The moment she stood before it, her pulse thundered. Her hand hovered above the door handle. One turn, and she’d be undone all over again.

She didn’t knock.

She just walked in.

He was there—leaning against the window, a whiskey glass in hand, dressed in black. The kind of man women dream about in secret but fear in daylight.

His gaze lifted slowly to meet hers.

Kaira’s breath caught.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he murmured, stepping toward her.

She didn’t speak.

He set his drink down, closing the distance with a predator’s calm. “You’ve been running from this like it’s a sin. But what if it’s salvation?”

She swallowed hard. “I can’t do this again.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek. “Then why are you here?”

Because she was unraveling.

Because this man—this dangerous, mysterious man—had made her feel more alive in one night than her entire marriage had in months.

Because part of her wanted to burn.

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she kissed him.

It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t sweet.

It was hungry.

A war of mouths and breath and need. He gripped her waist, pulling her against him like he was starving and she was the only cure.

Clothes fell. Words blurred. Time collapsed.

When they were tangled in sheets once again, her head resting on his chest, he said softly, “Tell me something real.”

She closed her eyes.

“My husband doesn’t know who I am anymore.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you?” he asked.

She didn’t reply.

Because deep down, she wasn’t sure either.

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