"A mistake is something that happens accidentally. Cheating and lying are not accidents, they are choices."

THE club was alive with pulsing beats and the low hum of chatter. Neon lights flickered across the room as Sidharth leaned back against the booth, a drink in his hand. His friends were all seated around him, laughing and talking over the music, their conversation shifting from one random topic to another.

"Bro, have you seen the new Ducati V4?" Kartik asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

"Yeah, it's insane. The speed, the control-it's a beast," Akhil chimed in, nodding enthusiastically.

Ranveer smirked, taking a swig from his glass. "You and your Ducati obsession. Bikes are cool, but cars? That's where the real game is."

Karan rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Bikes are freedom, man. Cars are for people who don't like the wind in their hair."

"Or bugs in their teeth," Surya shot back with a laugh, earning a round of chuckles.

Sidharth sat silently, nursing his drink, his mind far from the conversation. His fingers traced the rim of his glass absently, his thoughts consumed by her.

Ranveer's sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in Sidharth's demeanor, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. "You know," he started, leaning back in his chair dramatically, "Sidharth is looking different tonight."

The table quieted for a moment before Kartik raised an eyebrow. "Different? As in?"

"Like he just got laid," Ranveer teased, his grin widening as he leaned forward.

The table erupted in laughter, and all eyes turned to Sidharth.

"Really, Sid?" Kartik joined in, smirking. "You didn't even tell us? Who's the lucky girl?"

Sidharth didn't even blink. He brought his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, completely ignoring them.

"See? He's not denying it!" Akhil pointed out, laughing as the others roared in agreement.

"Leave it, guys," Surya added with a knowing look. "He's lost in his thoughts. Probably thinking about her right now."

Sidharth finally glanced up, his sharp eyes narrowing at Surya. "Fuck off."

His words only fueled their laughter.

"Come on, Sid," Ranveer pressed, thoroughly enjoying himself. "You've got that post-good-sex glow, bro. Spill the tea."

Kartik leaned in, mock-whispering, "Was it someone we know? Or some mystery girl you've been keeping from us?"

Sidharth rolled his eyes and threw back the rest of his drink. "You guys are idiots."

But his mind betrayed him. It wandered back to Sana-her flushed face, the way she bit her lip when she was shy, and the way she called him Sir in that sweet, breathless voice. He clenched his jaw, annoyed at how much space she was occupying in his head.

"Look at him!" Surya laughed again. "He's totally zoned out, man. I swear, Sid, I've never seen you like this."

"Shut up," Sidharth muttered, motioning for the waiter to bring another drink.

Karan nudged Ranveer. "He's not denying it, though."

"Exactly," Ranveer said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "So, who is she, Sid? Come on, you can tell us. We're your boys."

Sidharth leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression turning serious. "You want to know who she is?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

The group stilled, suddenly curious.

"She's none of your damn business," he said flatly, leaning back again and smirking at their groans of disappointment.

"You're such a buzzkill," Kartik muttered, shaking his head.

"Yeah, but he's a buzzkill with a story," Akhil added. "And we'll get it out of him eventually."

Sidharth let their chatter fade into the background, his mind slipping back to Sana-the way she responded to him, her defiance and submission blending perfectly. He hated how much he was thinking about her, but at the same time, he couldn't stop.

"I didn't even fucked her yet, and she's all over my head." He thought, frustrated with himself.

"You're smiling, dude," Ranveer pointed out suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

"I am not."

"You are," Karan confirmed, laughing.

"Must be some girl," Kartik teased again.

"Enough," Sidharth snapped, though his lips twitched, betraying a tiny smirk. "Focus on your drinks, not my life."

"Touché," Ranveer said, raising his glass. "But this isn't over, Sid. We'll find out eventually."

Sidharth shook his head, draining his glass. "Good luck with that," he muttered, though a part of him knew his friends wouldn't let it go anytime soon.

The dance floor was alive with energy. Sidharth's friends had dragged each other into the crowd, swaying to the beats of the music, laughing, and enjoying the moment. But Sidharth stayed back, sitting at the bar, his glass in hand.

He stared blankly at the rows of bottles behind the counter, their vibrant colors blurring together as his thoughts drifted back to her.

Her defiance.
Her flushed face.
The way she moaned, breathless and needy, calling him Sir.

Sidharth clenched his jaw, downing the rest of his drink. The memory stirred something in him-something he wasn't ready to admit.

"Need a refill, sir?" the bartender asked, snapping him out of his trance.

"Yeah. Make it strong," Sidharth muttered, sliding his glass forward.

The bartender nodded, pouring another drink, but Sidharth barely noticed. His mind was still replaying their session, every little detail seared into his brain.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the girl until she was right in front of him.

"Hey, handsome," she purred, her voice sweet and sultry.

Sidharth looked up, startled, as the woman leaned in closer. She was wearing a short, glittery dress that barely covered her, her bold red lips curling into a suggestive smile.

Before he could respond, she placed a hand on his chest, her fingers trailing down slowly.

"What the-" Sidharth started, his eyes narrowing.

"I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone," she interrupted, her hand moving lower. "Why don't we go somewhere more private?"

The sudden, unwanted touch sent a jolt through him. Without thinking, he grabbed her wrist and shoved her back with full force.

The girl stumbled, her heel twisting beneath her as she fell hard onto the floor. The sharp sound of her cry pierced through the music, drawing the attention of several onlookers.

"What the hell!" she screamed, clutching her face as blood began to drip from her nose. "Are you crazy?"

Sidharth stood, his chest heaving as anger surged through him. "How dare you touch me without my permission?" he roared, his voice echoing through the stunned silence.

The girl glared at him, her eyes watering both from pain and fury. "It was just a touch!" she yelled back. "What's the big deal? Boys like it!"

"Not everyone," Sidharth snapped, his tone sharp and biting. "And I don't. I don't like being touched without my consent. Get that in your fucking head!"

By then, his friends had returned from the dance floor, their laughter fading as they saw the scene unfolding.

"Sid, what happened?" Kartik asked, his gaze shifting between him and the injured girl.

"Nothing that concerns you," Sidharth barked, his eyes still locked on the girl.

"You're acting like a jerk!" the girl hissed, standing up shakily, her hand still on her nose.

"And you're acting like a predator," Sidharth shot back, his voice icy. "Learn some boundaries."

The tension in the air was thick, but Sidharth didn't wait for a response. He grabbed his jacket, ignoring his friends' confused expressions and the murmurs around him, and strode out of the club.

"Sid! Wait!" Ranveer called after him, but Sidharth didn't stop.

The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, his anger simmering just below the surface. He got into his car, slamming the door shut, and sat there for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Starting the engine, he drove off into the night, the city lights blurring past him. His mind was a storm of emotions-anger, frustration, and something deeper, something that made him think of her again.

He hated being touched without consent. The very idea of it made his skin crawl. And yet, when Sana had touched him during their session, it had felt... right. As, he gave his consent in it.

Sana didn't force herself on him. She didn't ask for more. She accepted what he gave. She didn't question him, not even about the ridiculous clause he added to their contract-no kissing, no hugging, no cuddling. That's exactly why he liked her.

"Damn it," he cursed, pressing the accelerator harder.

As he reached home, Sidharth parked the car and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. Her face flashed before him again, unbidden, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

"This girl..." he muttered, shaking his head. "She's messing with me in ways she doesn't even know."

With a deep breath, Sidharth stepped out of the car and headed inside, determined to drown out the thoughts of Sana that refused to leave him.

Sidharth changed into a simple t-shirt and pajama pants, lying down in bed. He closed his eyes, hoping to push her out of his mind, but it was futile. All he could think about was Sana. Every detail of their session replayed in his head-the way she looked, the way she responded, the way she submitted without hesitation yet carried a quiet strength. It drove him mad.

Finally, he sat up with a frustrated sigh, grabbed his phone, and texted her.

Sidharth: I need you. Now. Where can we meet?

He tossed the phone on the bed and leaned back, waiting for her reply, staring at the ceiling. Five minutes passed. His phone buzzed, and he snatched it up immediately.

Sana: Have you gone mad? See the time?

A smirk tugged at his lips, but he was too impatient to care about the time.

Sidharth: I fucking need you. Tell me where we can meet. NOW.

This time, it took ten minutes for a reply, and those ten minutes felt like an eternity. When her message finally came, he frowned at the screen.

Sana: Can you wait until next weekend?

Sidharth: No.

His curt response made his own desperation more obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to forget about that club girl who touched him without his permission. And, also his horrible past that was trying to come back and remind him how weak and vulnerable he was.

Sana: I can't come right now. It's 10 PM, Sidharth. My parents will kill me.

His lips twitched in frustration, and before he thought better of it, he typed back:

Sidharth: Should I come to your house then?

Sana stared at her phone in disbelief, her jaw dropping. "Has he lost his mind?" she whispered to herself.

Her phone buzzed again before she could form a response.

Sidharth: I asked you something. Can I come or not?

Sana chewed her lip, her thoughts a chaotic mess. Why was he acting so desperate? Had something happened after he dropped her off earlier?

Another buzz.

Sidharth: Sana??

Letting out a shaky breath, she finally typed back.

Sana: Yeah, I'm here. You can come after 12. My parents will be asleep by then.

His response was immediate.

Sidharth: Cool.

She gawked at the single-word reply, muttering to herself. "Cool? That's it?"

Her initial irritation faded as she caught herself blushing. The memory of their earlier session filled her mind. God, that was something else.

Her mother's voice broke her thoughts. "Sana, come for dinner!"

Quickly tossing her phone onto the bed, she smoothed her hair and stepped out of her room, forcing herself to act normal. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again, but she shook her head, trying to calm down.

As she sat at the dining table, her mother glanced at her. "You seem distracted today. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good, Mom," Sana said quickly, picking at her food to avoid her gaze.

Her father chimed in, "You've been on your phone all day. What's going on? College work?"

"Something like that," she mumbled, her heart racing.

If only they knew what their daughter is actually up to.

She pushed the thought aside and forced herself to engage in the conversation at the table, but her mind kept wandering. Her parents would be horrified if they knew she was sneaking a guy into their house at midnight-a guy who had bullied her mercilessly, who was supposed to be her enemy, but who had somehow become so much more.

"What the hell am I doing?" she thought, biting her lip to hide a smile.

The answer was obvious, but she wasn't ready to admit it just yet.

Sidharth lay in bed, trying to pass the time by playing a game on his phone. The bright screen illuminated his face as he furiously tapped at the screen, trying to beat the level he was stuck on. He was so focused that the sudden sound of the doorbell startled him.

He paused the game, frowning. "Who the hell is that at this hour?" he muttered to himself as he got up.

Descending the grand staircase, he noticed the absence of the household staff. He had no choice but to check for himself. He flicked on the lights in the living room, illuminating the luxurious space, and approached the door cautiously. Peering through the peephole, he froze.

It was his father, Mr. Vyas, leaning heavily on his personal assistant for support. His father looked utterly drunk, his eyes bloodshot, and his tie loosened around his neck. There was no sign of his mother.

Sidharth sighed and opened the door reluctantly.

"Hi, baby!" his father slurred, stepping forward and pulling Sidharth into an unexpected hug.

Sidharth stiffened, unable to process the sudden display of affection. His father hadn't hugged him since he was a child. It felt foreign, forced, and uncomfortable.

"What the hell-" he muttered under his breath, pulling back.

"How's my son?" his father asked, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

Sidharth narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Vyas, you're drunk." He pushed his father away gently but firmly, creating distance between them.

"Sidharth, I'm your dad, baby," his father said, his voice pleading, as though trying to remind both of them of the fact.

"Go and sleep, Mr. Vyas," Sidharth replied coldly.

His father staggered, grabbing Sidharth's arm to steady himself. "Call me Dad, son," he said, his voice breaking as tears welled up in his eyes.

For a brief moment, Sidharth hesitated. Seeing his father like this was pitiful, but the years of emotional neglect and distance between them were too deeply ingrained.

He shook his head. "You should go to bed," he said, ignoring the plea.

Turning to the assistant, Sidharth addressed her with a sharp tone. "Take him to his room. And leave after that."

The assistant, a woman in her mid-thirties, nodded silently and helped Mr. Vyas up the stairs. Sidharth followed them, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of irritation and detachment.

They reached the first bedroom. The room Sana assumes to be Sidharth's. The assistant opened the door and guided Mr. Vyas inside. Sidharth's steps faltered when he noticed the assistant closing the door behind them, locking it.

Sidharth's jaw clenched as realization dawned on him.

He felt a wave of disgust wash over him. Shaking his head in anger, he muttered under his breath, "Fucking cheaters."

Without another glance, he turned and ascended the stairs to his own room, the last one on the top floor. As he closed the door behind him, he let out a heavy breath, leaning against the frame.

"This is the family I come from," he thought bitterly, the weight of it settling on his chest. Shoving his emotions aside, he grabbed his phone from the bed, opening the message thread with Sana again.

Her last reply was still there.

Sana: You can come after 12. My parents will be asleep by then.

He stared at it for a long moment, before tossing the phone aside. He leaned back on the bed, closing his eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, the images of his father and his assistant in his room kept invading his mind. His chest tightened with anger and resentment, emotions he'd buried for years resurfacing all at once.

"Fucking cheaters," he muttered again, the words like a mantra in his head.

It was no wonder he hated the idea of love and relationships.

How could he believe in them when this was the example he'd grown up with?

But then, as his thoughts drifted, an image of Sana appeared in his mind, her flushed face and the way she had submitted to him earlier that day. Despite his anger and frustration, a small part of him softened.

"At least she's not like them," he thought, before shaking his head and pushing all thoughts aside. "Maybe?"

There will always be a maybe for him, as he doesn't trust anyone. But he wants to trust Sana for a change-that she won't cheat him until the end of their agreement. After that, whatever she wants to do is her choice; he will have nothing to say about it. After all, he plans to leave the country after his graduation.

✿✿✿

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