𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-68

Before the entrance of the night disco, Dhriti lingered beneath the riot of light spilling from inside - neon bands of violet, blue, and electric green pulsing through the glass doors like a living heartbeat. The music throbbed faintly even here, a bass-deep vibration that hummed through the pavement and into her bones.

She stood wrapped in a sleeveless slip dress that brushed her ankles, its deep red fabric catching every flicker of light and scattering it back in soft, restless glimmers. A thin strap curved over her shoulder blade, holding the dress in place, and the slit along her thigh shifted each time she moved her weight from one foot to the other.

As the night air caressed her bare skin, she rubbed her palms slowly along her arms, trying to press warmth back into herself, though the shiver never quite left.

The flush on her cheeks refused to fade. Her lips, painted cherry red, curved into a smile that trembled but didn't disappear. Every few seconds, her gaze lifted toward the other side of the road, then darted away just as quickly, as if the concrete itself might notice her waiting.

The image rose uninvited - him shrugging out of his jacket, draping it around her shoulders with that careless kindness of his. The thought tickled her stomach. Her eyes squeezed shut and she bit down on her lower lip, dipping her chin, curls spilling forward to shield her face.

"You're looking so tempting," her PG roommate had said earlier, voice teasing, eyes approving. "Trust me, he won't be able to resist himself."

The playful bump against her shoulder had nearly knocked the air from her lungs. And then, softer but no less pointed, "Don't think too much, Dhriti. Otherwise, why would he call you to a disco-at night, at this hour?"

She had swallowed then, fingers tightening around the clutch just like now. "He only asked me to wait near the entrance. Nothing about going inside." Even as she spoke, her heart had argued back-yet.

A sharp honk from the road cut through her thoughts.

She startled, blinking herself back into the present. Drawing in a slow breath, she bit her lip again, softer this time.

Three years.

Three years of noticing him before he ever looked her way.

Tonight, standing under trembling lights in a red dress that felt like a confession, she told herself one thing with quiet certainty: she wouldn't let this moment slip past her.

As her eyes lifted again, they found him.

Rudraksh.

On the other side of the road.

For a second, the world narrowed to his silhouette - tall, familiar, unmistakable - cut against the wash of streetlights and passing headlights.

Her breath caught. Then her brows drew together, lips parting slightly. "He didn't bring his car?" she whispered to herself.

A bike roared past, followed by another impatient honk. He waited, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders squared. When the road cleared, he crossed with long strides, unhurried, as if this were just another stop between places.

With every step he took closer, the faint hope blooming in her chest quietly folded in on itself. His figure sharpened under the lights, and so did the disappointment.

"Good evening, Ms. Vasishth."

The words landed cold, clipped, stripped of the softness she'd held onto all day. No trace of the morning warmth. No ease. He stopped an arm's length away, leaving the space between them untouched, intact.

Dhriti's fingers tightened around her clutch. Her gaze dropped instinctively, tracing the line between them - from the hem of her shimmering red dress to his sneakers planted casually on the pavement.