Dil Beparwah | ✔

twenty five

||CHAPTER 25||
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┊A R V I K A┊

At exactly quarter to seven, my eyes snapped open to the unusual bedding situation. My hand had reached out to grab my phone off the nightstand and perhaps check the mails that dictated my work load for the day, but even in the foggy haze of sleep, the unmistakable warmth of breath hit the blade of my shoulder, and I knew I couldn't blame it on the one drink too many.

Now, I didn't really care much if my untangling disrupted his sleep, but I did think of the possibility of Ravit wanting to repeat last night's activities and I wasn't one for hung-over morning sex, so pushing his arm off my body, I tip-toed toward the strewn pile of clothes. The curtains were drawn—thank god for that, I was aware that Versova had nosy window neighbors.

Once I had cleaned up and shimmied myself into the dress, it was time to hobble around for my heels, the search leading me to the living room where Ravit's athletic, gym-freak of a room-mate was helping himself to a protein shake from a sipper. Sheened in sweat, curly hair tied in a bun, he looked like he had just gotten back from his morning run. With pierced eyebrows and his phone sturdied on a guerilla tripod, he addressed me, "Yo, Vickey, gonna do a IG Live, join karegi?"

I don't know if I jumped at his booming, uncharacteristically loud voice or at my reflection in the mirror that wasn't supposed to be in their living room. The bachelor pad was always in a sorry state. "Nope!" I lowered his phone before he could start it without my consent. "I'm good."

"Are you leaving already?"

If it wasn't already apparent from the frantic grabbing of my purse and heels, I clarified for him, "It's a work day for me."

Getting out of the building was not going to be that big of an issue, going back to work was. My car was not parked in the designated lot, or even outside the housing complex for that matter. Ravit had his motorcycle with him, I remember the ride back to his apartment at midnight. The sensible, sound side of my frizzled brain must have left it at Karma. I had a round-up briefing meeting in two hours, the bar was far, far away from both, my work and home, I couldn't ask Karan to pick me up, and my clothes from last night definitely didn't scream work attire, and to pop the cherry on top, a excruciating hang-over headache had added itself to the list. Clearly I hadn't been thinking straight, not after inviting Varun Malhotra to witness my cousin slice open and prod my shortcomings. A fùçķìng feast.

Mia picked up on the first ring. "Spare keys. Third drawer. Car. Karma. Home. Now."

It had roughly been a year that she had started working with me, but my inability to string a sentence together was something she could perhaps decode, because when an Uber ride later I had sneaked back home, she was waiting for me at my doorstep with a huge travel-sized cup of Starbucks.

"Saviour," I wagged a finger at her, stumbling in through the front door. "Did you do what I'd asked you to last night?" Whatever had come over me as a spur-of-the-moment need last night, could only be toggled between the foolish urges of proving him wrong and perhaps, watching him while I proved him wrong.

The raging hang-over side effect was appreciating the smell of coffee. Maybe Mia did deserve a raise. Not that I was going to tell her that, especially when she was squinting behind her glasses.

"What is it?" An empty house greeted me on the other side of the door. Karan's Board meeting was yesterday, it had been radio silence ever since he left.