𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒: 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

10. DRUNK

PRASHI RAWAT'S POV

I slip into the stunning red gown, the silk fabric hugging my curves in all the right places. The deep crimson color complements my warm skin tone, making me look like a vision of elegance. I feel a surge of confidence as I strike a pose in front of the mirror, the gown's fitted bodice accentuating my waist, while the flowing skirt highlights my voluptuous hips.

PRASHI'S DRESS

Vikram , walks into the room, looking dashing in his tailored tuxedo. His eyes widen in appreciation as he takes in my stunning appearance. I feel a flutter in my chest as he gazes at me.

"Wow, Prashi, you look breathtaking," he says, offering me his arm. "Shall we make an entrance at the party?"

I smile, feeling like a princess on his arm. We glide into the luxurious ballroom together, turning heads and commanding attention. The soft lighting and champagne toasts only add to the magic of the night, as we dance and laugh together, our chemistry undeniable. I feel alive, carefree, and radiant, with Rajveer by my side.

As we enter the party, Vikram's gaze sweeps the room, his eyes scanning the crowd with a mixture of charm and authority. But then, his eyes land on someone, and his expression changes. He freezes, his stare fixed on a tall, dark-haired man across the room.

Vyom Rajput.

Vikram's eyes narrow, his jaw clenches, and his gaze becomes intense, almost predatory. He looks like he wants to devour Vyom whole, his eyes burning with a fierce hunger. I feel a shiver run down my spine as I witness this transformation.

"Vikram, what's wrong?" I ask, trying to break the spell, but he doesn't respond. He's too busy drinking in the sight of Vyom, his eyes roving over every inch of him.

Vyom, oblivious to the attention, continues to laugh and chat with a group of people, but I can sense a subtle tension in his body, as if he's aware of Vikram's gaze.

The air is charged with an electric current, and I can feel the weight of Vikram's desire, his need, his obsession. It's unsettling, yet fascinating, like watching a storm unfold.

What's going on between these two men? I wonder, my curiosity piqued.

Vikram's gaze is fixed on Vyom, his eyes burning with intensity. Suddenly, he turns to me and says, "Prashi, I need to take a call. Excuse me for a minute."

I nod, and Vikram disappears into the crowd, his eyes never leaving Vyom's retreating form. I watch as Vyom makes his way outside, Vikram following discreetly behind him.

Now alone, I turn to the audience in my mind and whisper, "You see, Vyom Rajput is not just any fashion designer. He's a genius, a master of his craft. His gowns are sought after by celebrities and socialites alike. But what makes him truly special is his unapologetic individuality. He's a true original, and his designs reflect his bold and daring personality."

I pause, glancing around the room to make sure no one is listening in.

"And, between you and me, Vyom Rajput is also openly gay. He's never been afraid to be himself, even in the face of adversity. That takes courage, and I admire him for it."

I smile to myself, wondering what's about to unfold between Vikram and Vyom. The tension is palpable, and I can sense a storm brewing.

I make my way to the bar, my eyes scanning the room for a distraction from the thoughts of Rajveer. I spot the bartender and signal for a drink, hoping to calm my nerves. The bartender hands me a glass of champagne, and I take a sip, feeling the bubbles dance on my tongue.

But as I glance around the room, I realize Rajveer is still nowhere to be seen. Vyom and Vikram is gone too. I feel a pang of unease and take another sip, trying to shake off the feeling.

Before I know it, I've downed several glasses, and the room starts to spin. I stumble, catching myself on the bar, and laugh, trying to play it off.

The bartender raises an eyebrow. "Ma'am, maybe you should slow down?"

But I wave him off, taking another gulp. I want to forget the tension, the uncertainty. I want to let go.

As the night wears on, I become more and more unsteady. My vision blurs, and my words start to slur. I'm aware of people staring, but I don't care. I'm too busy trying to drown my thoughts.

So i thought to get some fresh air.
I stumble out into the garden, the cool night air hitting me like a slap in the face. I try to clear my head, but my thoughts are a jumbled mess. I find a bench and collapse onto it, trying to catch my breath.

Just as I'm starting to feel a little better, I hear footsteps approaching. Rajveer appears in front of me, his eyes blazing with concern.

But I'm not having it. "You, you bastard" I slur, my words venomous. "You're the one who's been overworking me, pushing me to my limits. You're the reason I'm so exhausted."

Rajveer takes a step back, his expression taken aback. "Ms. Rawat, I—"

But I cut him off. "No, no, no. You bitch, you have no idea what it's like to be at your beck and call 24/7. You have no idea what it's like to be constantly stressed and anxious."

Rajveer points his finger to his chest and says,"me, bitch?"

"Yes, you."

I'm on a roll now, my words spilling out in a drunken torrent. But then, something catches my eye. Rajveer's face, illuminated by the moonlight, looks... different. Softer, somehow.

And then it hits me. "You know what?" I say, my voice suddenly dreamy. "You're quite handsome. That's why I forgive you."

Rajveer's expression changes from nothing to devilish, and then, to my astonishment, he smirks. "You think so, Ms. Rawat," he says, his voice low and husky.

"Yes." My vision goes black. I feel an arm holding me...
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~to be continued