𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬.
Love is hope for the hopeless and sin for the saint. Love is both a salvation for the lost and a temptation for the righteous. It drives people to cross lines they swore ne...
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They made Rutvik lick the spit from their shoes.
I can't get that out of my head no matter how many times I blinked from past two days. It's still burning inside my chest since I got to know about it. They shattered my Rutvik's pride... his self respect...his dignity...him under there boots.
I folded both my hands and my grip tight with anger. Breath Nahella, just breath, you cant loose your mind in anger if you are here to take revenge.
At the night club.
Am I alone here? No, now we're here. The loud music bass is so heavy that it crashes through my chest and it feels like it's knocking on my ribs from the inside. The club lights flash red-blue-purple like a siren. All the people were dancing and I am damn sure some of the kids here are minor too. I can smell sweat, perfume, smoke all in the air which is making me choke on my own breath.
Alisha leans close to me and yelling something in my ear about sticking together, but I barely hear her but I nod anyway. Well we both lied and told our family that we were going to study late at the NLU library, then crash at her place because exams were near and thankfully Chachi agreed. Dixit and Chirag are already acting too casual, standing near the bar with drinks they don't plan to finish, scanning the crowd even though I know very well Dixit wants to dance his butt off the dance floor but Chirag kept him under control.
But I'm not here to dance.
I'm here because the man who did that to Rutvik... that a*s f*cking senior police officer who made Rutvik do that is here somewhere. The thought of seeing that senior police officer makes my nails bite into my palms. I know somewhere in this crowd, he's laughing, drinking, dancing like he didn't force someone's dignity onto the floor and make them lick it up. Somewhere, he thinks he's untouchable.
The music drops, people scream and cheer, and I catch myself searching every face. My chest feels tight and I can feel the anger bubbling up again.
And I swear my fake plump red wig is not helping either.
"Stop moving!" Alisha hissed over the music and her nails were digging against the fake strands of my wig as she adjusted them for the hundredth time since I put this wig on.
"It's itching." I muttered, trying not to scratch my scalp. This stupid red wig was sliding forward like it had a personal grudge against me.
"I don't care if it's itching." she said, yanking it back into place. "You want people to recognize you? No? Then stop whining." Before I could argue, she pulled out her lip gloss which is some high-shine, expensive-looking thing and smeared another coat on my lips. "There. Now pout. Good. You actually look hot if you stop scowling."
I rolled my eyes but didn't wipe it off. I swear If anyone saw us right now, they'd never guess it was me and Alisha. She had on this perfect bubblegum-pink wig, a glittery party dress that made her look like she belonged here, and makeup so sharp it could slice a man jaw open. Her make-up skills is insane even I looked like someone else tonight.
