******With English Subtitles*******
Seetha, a timid Brahmin Student, bravely confesses her love to Aayush Kumar, her stern yet secretly compassionate Professor, only to be harshly scolded for her audacity.
Heartbroken, she returns home and discover...
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The chilly Ooty breeze nipped at my nose, prompting me to pull up my hoodie for some warmth.
The humid climate only added to my frustration, ruining my morning jog against the cold wind. If I catch a cold, it would make enduring this weather even worse.
I sighed, cleaned up the mess on my balcony, tossing the beer bottles into a bag, and went down to place them near the house.
Technically, it's my father's house. If anyone asks who I despise most, it's him.
I loathe him.
And I'll hate him until my last breath on this planet.
Placing the bag of bottles with a thud near the steps, I turned to head back inside, ready to start my gym activities. But I stopped abruptly when I saw the one person wished to avoid.
Ignoring him, I walked past and headed to the gym room upstairs, adjacent to my room. Could still hear the faint clinking of beer bottles downstairs. He must be clearing them up.
A perfect act after committing a murder.
I smirked, shaking my head, and began my push-ups with fierce determination until sweat poured out of me despite the oppressive climate.
After completing my hundredth push-up, I stood up, grabbed the towel from the table, stretched my limbs, and wiped away my sweat.
It felt like heaven.
Rubbing off the sweat, I headed to take a bath in my hot shower. I pulled off my vest and boxers, leaving myself naked, and let the warm water cascade over me, soothing my toned muscles.
After drying off thoroughly, I dressed in black pants and a dark green shirt before descending the stairs to the kitchen. Upon seeing me, that man immediately left the kitchen, as if I'd been disturbed by him.
Why should I be disturbed to see that murderer? I clicked my tongue in annoyance and took out the dosa batter to make my breakfast. While the tawa preheated, I grabbed some tomatoes to prepare chutney, working on both tasks simultaneously, pouring the batter onto the tawa in a round, crispy layer.
With my plate of dosas and chutney, I moved out of the kitchen and sat at the dining table, directly opposite the man.
Ignore him, Aayush.
Told myself and focused on my food. But the murderer seemed to have other thoughts, clearing his throat to gain my attention.
