He pulled a cigarette holder and a lighter from his jacket, lighting the cigarette and letting a cloud of smoke drift into the air. He leaned back, relaxed. I hadn't known he smoked. I smiled.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said, resting my head on his chest.
"I know you're thinking about something," he said, taking another puff.
"I didn't know you smoked too," I replied.
He just smiled and handed me the cigarette.
"What?" I asked, surprised. "How did you know I smoke too?"
He looked at me, still smiling. "I know a lot more about you than you think," he said, leaning back.
I handed him the cigarette and curled into his arms.
In his arms, I felt sleepy and at peace. I didn't want to leave or mix with the crowd; his warmth was all I needed for the rest of the night. I'd never felt this close to anyone before. This wasn't just about desire—it was a feeling beyond words. No words could capture how cozy and safe I felt in his embrace.
I asked him, "Tell me what you know about me."
"Why the rush?" he asked, taking a puff. "Is this the last time we'll meet like this?"
My heart sank, and a sharp wave of pain hit me as his words lingered. In just two days, he had consumed my thoughts, and today, he made me feel loved in a way no one ever had. But hearing those words, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him. I didn't understand what was happening to me or why I felt so drawn to him, but I knew one thing—I didn't want him to say anything that would push me away.
"Why are you saying that?" I asked softly.
He looked at me, extinguishing his cigarette on the floor and tossing it away. "You're married, and so am I."
A pang of pain went through my heart and body. I didn't want to wake up to this reality. Reality sucks.
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
Then, I heard his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out, and I saw the name "Wife" on the screen. A pang of jealousy ran through me as he stood up and stepped aside to take the call. In his low, husky tone, he barely spoke, but I could hear loud, angry words from the other end. It sounded like his wife was upset.
After several minutes of silence, I finally managed to speak. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied, nodding his head, but I could tell he didn't want to talk about it. I didn't press him further.
Seeing him on the phone with his wife jolted me back to reality. What had I just done? We'd had incredible sex, but we were both married. My eyes widened as the events of the evening raced through my mind. A sudden urge to check on Shreya gripped me, but my phone was on the sofa outside, and I couldn't risk being seen with him.
"Let's go outside," he said, looking into my eyes as he stood there, pulling on his clothes.
How manly his movements were. I couldn't get enough of him. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
"I can't," I said softly.
"What do you mean, you can't?" he asked, his gaze narrowing.
I stayed silent.
"Come on, get dressed," he said with a commanding tone, almost ordering me. Yet somehow, even under his dominant behavior, I felt cozy and safe.
Slowly, I got up and dressed, the weight of my actions sinking in. Why did I do this with him? I questioned myself, searching for answers I couldn't find.
