Bangalore's nights had a way of pulling Jaya into their orbit, each one a chance to escape the grind of her copywriting deadlines and lose herself in the city's electric pulse. A week after Priya's bombshell about Prashanth's breakup with Tara, Jaya found herself swept up in another group plan: a comedy show at a trendy Koramangala venue, organized by Arjun, who swore the comedian's take on Indian office life would leave them in stitches. Priya, Arjun, Vicky, and a few others were joining, and Prashanth's name on the group chat made Jaya's heart skip—a mix of excitement and nerves that had become familiar since Pondicherry.
The venue, a cozy club with exposed brick walls and dim Edison bulbs, buzzed with anticipation as Jaya arrived, her denim skirt and flowy blouse catching the soft light. The air smelled of craft beer and popcorn, and laughter spilled from the crowd gathering near the stage. Jaya spotted Priya waving her over, her grin infectious, but it was Prashanth, standing nearby in a casual black shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, who drew her gaze. His smile, warm and a little tired, sent a flutter through her, and she pushed down the question that had haunted her since Priya's news: Did I have anything to do with his breakup?
"Jaya, you made it!" Priya said, pulling her into a hug. "Ready to laugh until your sides hurt?"
"Born ready," Jaya replied, her smile bright, though her eyes flickered to Prashanth. He nodded at her, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, and she felt that familiar spark, sharp and undeniable.
"Glad you're here," he said, his voice low, cutting through the crowd's chatter. "This guy's supposed to be hilarious. Perfect for a creative like you."
She laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope he's got some ad agency jokes. I could use the validation."
"Bet he will," Prashanth said, his eyes crinkling. "You'll be the loudest laugh in the room."
The group settled into a cluster of tables near the stage, Jaya sandwiched between Priya and Vicky, with Prashanth across from her, his presence a quiet pull even as she chatted with the others. Vicky, still smitten from Pondicherry, leaned closer, his boyish charm on full display. "You're gonna love this, Jaya," he said, his smile wide. "Last time I was here, I nearly fell off my chair laughing."
"High expectations," she teased, catching Prashanth's glance from across the table. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a hint of the same unease she'd seen when Vicky had flirted with her at the pub. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on the stage as the lights dimmed.
The comedian, a wiry man with a quick wit, launched into his set, skewering everything from Bangalore's traffic to corporate jargon. Jaya laughed until her cheeks ached, her giggles mingling with Prashanth's low chuckles, their eyes meeting in shared amusement when the comedian roasted "creative types who think they're saving the world with shampoo ads." She clapped, catching Prashanth's grin, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two in the room, their laughter a private language.
During a break, the group ordered drinks—Jaya opted for a gin and tonic, its sharp bite grounding her as the buzz of the show lingered. Vicky, ever enthusiastic, toasted to "epic nights and epic fights," drawing laughs, but Jaya's attention drifted to Prashanth, who was quieter than usual, sipping his whiskey and watching the crowd. She wanted to ask about Tara, to ease the nagging doubt in her chest, but the words felt too heavy for the lively club, its open energy a faint echo of the freeing seaside nights she'd come to love.
As the show ended, the group spilled onto the venue's outdoor patio, a small space with fairy lights and a view of Koramangala's twinkling streets. The air was warm, scented with jasmine and the faint tang of spilled beer, and Jaya found herself beside Prashanth at the railing, the others caught up in a debate about the comedian's best jokes. Her gin gave her just enough courage to speak, her voice soft but steady.
"Prashanth, can I ask you something?" she said, her eyes on the skyline, her heart thudding.
He turned to her, his expression open, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Anything, Jaya. What's up?"
She took a breath, her fingers tightening around her glass. "I heard about you and Tara," she said, her voice careful. "Priya told me you broke up. I just... I need to know if I had anything to do with it. The way we talked in Pondicherry, the dancing... I don't want to be the reason things ended."
Prashanth's eyes softened, a mix of surprise and warmth crossing his face. He set his drink down, leaning closer, his voice low and earnest. "Jaya, no. You weren't the reason. I'd been planning to end things with Tara for almost a month. We'd been drifting apart for a while—different goals, different lives. I just... didn't have the courage to pull the trigger until recently. It wasn't about you, I promise."
She exhaled, relief washing over her, though her heart still raced at his closeness, the sincerity in his voice. "Okay," she said, her smile small but genuine. "I just didn't want to feel like... you know, the other woman or something."
He shook his head, his gaze steady. "You're not. You're... you're you, Jaya. And talking to you, being around you—it's been one of the best parts of these past weeks. But the breakup? That was my call, and it was coming for a while."
She nodded, the weight lifting, though a new question bloomed in its place: What does this mean for us? She pushed it down, keeping her tone light. "Thanks for being honest," she said. "And for the record, you seem pretty okay for someone who just went through a breakup."
He chuckled, a sound that warmed her from the inside out. "I'm getting there. Nights like this help. Good company helps." His eyes held hers, a spark of something more than friendship flickering in them, and she felt her cheeks flush.
The group rejoined them, Priya's laughter breaking the moment, and they fell back into easy banter. Vicky, still buzzing from the show, slung an arm around Jaya's shoulder, praising her laugh as "contagious," and Jaya caught Prashanth's glance, a flicker of that same tension from Pondicherry crossing his face. But this time, he smiled, joining the conversation, his ease returning as they swapped stories about terrible bosses and hilarious ad campaigns.
As the night wound down, the group lingered outside the club, the Bangalore sky streaked with stars. Jaya and Prashanth found themselves walking side by side to the parking lot, their steps slow, as if reluctant to let the night end. The gin had softened her edges, and his whiskey seemed to have done the same, their conversation flowing like a river.
"So, scriptwriter," she said, her voice teasing, "got any comedy in that feature you're working on?"
"Maybe," he said, grinning. "But it's more about the messy stuff—love, choices, the moments that change everything. You'd probably get it, with that creative brain of yours."
She laughed, nudging his arm playfully, the contact sending a spark through her. "Flatterer. You'll have to show me a page or two sometime."
"Only if you share one of your killer taglines first," he shot back, his eyes crinkling. "Deal?"
"Deal," she said, her smile wide, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks.
They reached Arjun's car, where the group was piling in, and Prashanth held the door for her, his hand brushing hers as she climbed in. The touch was brief, but it lingered, a quiet promise of something growing between them. As they drove back through Bangalore's neon-lit streets, Jaya stole glances at him, his profile softened by the streetlights, and felt a shift—a friendship deepening, a spark kindling into something more.
Back at her apartment, Jaya sank onto her couch, the night replaying in her mind—Prashanth's honesty, his smile, the way his eyes had found hers in the crowded club. She wasn't the reason for his breakup, but she couldn't deny the hope blooming in her chest, fragile and thrilling. Their connection, once a secret crush, was now a possibility, a story unfolding with each shared laugh, each stolen glance. As she drifted to sleep, the echo of the comedy show's laughter mingled with the memory of his voice, a melody that promised more nights, more truths, under Bangalore's starlit sky.
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