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MATURE THEME SCENE

"Alcohol was never just an escape; it was a quiet companion to my chaos, numbing the pain I was too afraid to face and the man I was too broken to become."

SIDHARTH killed the engine of his car and stepped out. He tossed his car keys to the valet and walked toward the entrance of the bar.

It was his favorite bar, and he never brought his friends here. Ironically, its name was "Happy House." Whenever he saw the glowing red signboard, it made him laugh bitterly.

The name mocked him. He didn't have a happy house; he had a house-a lifeless, empty shell with no people in it. He lived there alone. No family. He had no family.

The name of the bar was a cruel joke that always made him feel pathetic. And that feeling of self-pity brought back his constant companion-pain.

He loved pain. He loved to live in it, wallow in it, and sometimes even inflict it on others. For now, that "other" was Sana, an innocent girl who had done nothing wrong to him but was still being punished simply for being in his life.

He knew she deserved better. Someone who would treat her right, someone who could build an emotional connection with her. Someone she could love and talk to. They didn't even talk properly-not even like strangers or friends.

"Friends?" he smiled bitterly, sipping his drink.

They could never be friends. Friends don't sleep together-at least not without an emotional connection.

"I think I should leave her," the thought crossed his mind again.

"Hey! Bartender!" Sidharth called, his voice slightly tipsy.

"Yes, sir?" the bartender answered, cleaning a glass with a cloth.

"Do you think I should leave her?" he slurred, leaning over the counter toward the bartender before downing his fifth shot of whiskey in one go.

He had long surpassed his limit of three shots.

The bartender, a middle-aged man who had grown used to Sidharth's antics, looked at him with sympathy. Sidharth was a regular, and the man had developed a quiet sense of empathy for him, watching the young man destroy himself with alcohol.

"Who, sir?" the bartender asked politely.

"My girl," Sidharth replied. "Sana D'Souza."

"Well, I don't know her. But if she loves you, and if you love her, then you both should stay together," the man suggested.

"We don't love each other. We hate each other," Sidharth slurred. "We're enemies," he added, laughing.

"Oh!" the man said, picking up another glass to clean. "That's interesting."

"Yeah. You know, I've hurt her a lot. I'm a bad person. And she... she is a good girl. I don't deserve her," Sidharth mumbled, sadly pouting.

"I would suggest you talk to her and then decide what to do, sir," the man advised.

"I guess you're right. I should talk to her," Sidharth agreed, liking the idea. "But what if she leaves me?"

Unbeknownst to him, there was a hint of fear in his voice, which the bartender caught but didn't mention.

"Isn't that what you want?" the man asked, grabbing another glass to clean.

Sidharth nodded in agreement. "Yeah! But I like being with her too. She's awesome, you know. So bold, so beautiful, and strong. Very strong."

"Sounds like you like her," the bartender pointed out.

"You think so?" Sidharth asked in disbelief.

"Yes, you really like her," the man replied firmly.

"I like Sana D'Souza!" Sidharth mumbled, still in disbelief.

"Should I tell her? To make her feel good?" he asked excitedly, smiling broadly.

"You should tell her. She'll love that, and maybe she won't leave you, too," the bartender encouraged.

"You're right," Sidharth smiled, but then his expression fell. "But I don't deserve her," he added.

"You should talk to her. Tell her what you feel. Then let her decide what she wants, okay?" the bartender said, neatly placing the glass back on the shelf.

"Hmm," Sidharth nodded, pushing his empty glass across the counter to signal for a refill.

"Sorry, sir, you're already drunk. I can't serve you more," the bartender said gently but firmly. "Do you want me to call someone to drop you home?"

"No! I can go myself. Just refill it, please," Sidharth requested in a slurred, almost childlike voice, prompting the bartender to smile faintly despite himself.

"Just one more?"

"Just one more," Sidharth nodded, his expression oddly endearing.

"Promise?" the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, promise," Sidharth replied again, his head swaying slightly.

The bartender sighed and refilled the glass. "This is the last one, sir," he said, sliding it over.

Sidharth gulped it down in one swift motion and pushed the glass back. "More," he demanded, his tone growing impatient.

"That was the last one for you, sir," the bartender reminded him firmly.

"More," Sidharth insisted. "I want more," he added, irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Sorry, sir, but the bar is closed for you tonight," the bartender said, his voice unwavering.

"Please, just one more. Let me make it a record of seven?" This time, Sidharth's voice was eerily calm-too calm for the bartender's liking.

"No," the man replied resolutely. He knew Sidharth had already reached his limit, and any more could knock him unconscious -or worse.

"As you say," Sidharth said with a goofy smile. Then, without warning, he grabbed a nearby bottle of vodka and bolted for the door, leaving the bartender stunned.

"Hey! Stop him!" the bartender yelled to the security guards.

But Sidharth was too quick. He jumped into his car and sped off, tossing a bundle of cash toward the guards as he went.

"Take that, motherfuckers!" he shouted, laughing maniacally as the guards stopped chasing him to grab the money.

"Gold diggers," he muttered, shaking his head as he accelerated toward his house.

After finishing her assignment, Sana lay on her bed, her thoughts swirling with memories of Sidharth. His desperate words and jackass behavior replayed like a broken record.

"Why is he like this? Why does he have to act like such a jerk all the time? Can't he just admit there's something between us? Doesn't he see how much his rude behavior and harsh words hurt me?" Sana whispered angrily, her frustration bubbling over.

"I hate myself for loving you. You don't even treat me right. I know I'm just a fuck buddy to you, but you're so much more to me. I love you, Sidharth," she muttered, tears streaming down her face.

"I want to help you. I want to understand you. But if you won't let me in, how can I? How can I help you? God! Why is he like this?" she sobbed, feeling pathetic for falling for someone so broken yet so unwilling to be saved.

Venting her anger and pain through tears, Sana wiped her face, her resolve hardening. "If he thinks he can break me by acting like a jerk, he's wrong. I won't let him treat me like a doormat. Like I don't matter. I'll fight back. I'll take what I deserve-respect."

Determined, she got up and headed to the bathroom, splashing her face with cold water. Just as she was drying off, her phone started ringing. The persistent sound made her rush out to check the screen.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Sidharth's name. It was past midnight.

"Why would he call at this hour? Maybe for another invitation to fuck me?" Her anger flared, and she debated whether to answer.

She was still furious with him and wasn't in the mood to talk. Her mind told her to ignore it, maybe even teach him a lesson. But her heart whispered otherwise.

It was late-he wouldn't call without a good reason.

"Maybe he wants to apologize," she thought with a flicker of hope as she answered the call. "Hello! Sidharth?"

"Hello! Is this Sana D'Souza speaking?" The unfamiliar male voice on the other end made her pause in confusion.

"Yes, speaking. But who are you? And where is Sidharth?" Sana asked, panic creeping into her voice as her mind conjured the worst scenarios.

"Something happened to him," her heart whispered ominously.

"This is Officer Prashant Pandey speaking," the man introduced himself. His calm yet firm tone confirmed her fears.

"What happened to him?" she asked anxiously, her worry mounting.

"Miss Sana, please relax. Nothing serious has happened. We've detained Mr. Vyas in a drink-and-drive case," the officer explained, his voice steady.

"Drink and drive? He was drunk?" Sana's concern quickly turned to anger.

"Yes. He was caught drinking vodka while driving," the officer added, his disappointment evident.

"What?!" Sana gasped in shock. "What is wrong with him? Drinking and driving? What if something had happened to him?" she muttered angrily.

The love and worry in her voice were palpable, and the officer seemed to pick up on it.

"Miss Sana, could you please come to the station and take him home?" he asked, glancing toward Sidharth, who was glaring at him defiantly.

"I..." Sana hesitated. She wanted to go, but how could she? Her parents were downstairs sleeping, and they'd notice if she sneaked out at this hour.

"Sana, don't come. I'll manage here. And you, Officer, how dare you call her at this hour and ask her to come? Have you lost your mind?" Sana heard Sidharth's voice shouting in the background.

"Shut up, brat!" the officer snapped at him.

"Take the money and let me go," Sidharth barked in irritation.

"First, you break the law by drinking and driving, and now you're trying to bribe me? Do you want to spend the night in jail?" the officer yelled, clearly irritated by his behavior.

"Officer, please don't yell at him. He's not in his senses," Sana pleaded, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Listen to her, brat," the officer taunted, glaring at Sidharth.

"Don't come, Sana. I don't want you coming here alone at this hour. Better I'll stay the night here," Sidharth yelled again, his voice laced with concern despite his drunken state.

"Can't you shut up?" the officer shouted back, exasperated.

"Officer, I'm coming," Sana said firmly, urgency in her tone. "And please don't be so harsh on him. He's not in his right mind," she begged.

"Don't fucking beg in front of him, babe. I'm fine," Sidharth yelled, angry at himself for dragging her into his mess.

"Will you shut up, for Christ's sake? I'm talking, right?" Sana snapped at him. "Officer, I'm on my way. Please don't hurt him before I get there."

"Okay," the officer replied, though he was clearly annoyed, glaring at Sidharth.

Before she hung up, Sana heard Sidharth yelling again.

"I don't want you to get in trouble, babe. Don't come. Stay home and sleep, okay? I'll be fine here," Sidharth's voice, though slurred, carried unexpected tenderness.

Sana felt like crying, realizing he truly did care for her.

"He cares for me," Sana whispered, a smile breaking through her tears.

"Shit! I need to go." She quickly changed into something casual and tiptoed out of her room.

She paused to check her parents' room-thankfully, the lights were off. They were asleep.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her scooter keys and the spare house key. Quietly, she unlocked the door, opened it as silently as possible, and stepped outside.

Locking the door behind her, she ran to the garage, wheeled her scooter out a few feet away from the house, and started it.

As she rode toward the police station, her thoughts were a whirlwind of curses for Sidharth and prayers for her own safety. She considered calling Julia for help but decided against it. She didn't want to drag her friend into this mess-not yet.

"She's coming," the officer informed him.

"Why does nobody ever listen to me?" Sidharth groaned, kicking the bars of his cell in frustration.

"Do you want to get beaten with my belt?" the officer threatened, trying to scare him.

"I'm used to it," Sidharth replied flatly, sinking to the cold floor and leaning his head against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Bend, Sidharth," Manisha ordered coldly.

"Please, no!" Sidharth cried out in fear, his eyes widening at the sight of the leather belt in her hand.

"I already warned you before, didn't I?" she asked, grasping his face harshly.

"Ah!" Sidharth winced, tears spilling as her nails dug into his soft cheeks, scratching and cutting the delicate skin. "It hurts!"

"It will hurt more," she smirked, lifting the belt to show him.

"Aunty, please don't hurt me," he begged, his voice trembling with desperation.

"I know it will hurt," she said with mock sympathy. "But you need this punishment for disobeying me." Her nails pressed deeper into his cheeks, making him cry out louder.

"Please!" Sidharth sobbed, his voice breaking with fear and pain.

"Bend over, Sidharth," she demanded sharply. "Be a good boy and obey."

"No, please," he whispered through his tears, shaking his head helplessly.

Her patience snapped, and she slapped him hard across the face. "Bend!"

Sidharth clutched his stinging cheek, tears flowing freely. "Slap me!" he whimpered, his voice barely audible. For him, a slap was far better than the leather belt.

"Fucking bend, Sidharth!" she yelled furiously, bringing the belt down on his leg. He jumped in both fear and pain.

"Bend. And this is your last warning," she warned.

Feeling helpless Sidharth obeyed this time.

"Ah! Mumma!" he screamed as the belt struck his bare back, each lash cutting into his sensitive skin.

"Will you dare to disobey me again?" she asked, her voice dripping with cruelty as the belt struck again.

"No," he choked out between sobs.

"Good boy," she said with satisfaction, the belt hanging loosely in her hand.

Tears rolled down Sidharth's cheeks as he collapsed onto the cold floor, unconscious. The police officer glanced at him with a mix of frustration and pity before turning his attention back to his work, waiting for Sana to arrive.

Moments later, Sana hurried into the police station, her heart pounding as her eyes darted around the room. She approached the officer on duty, her voice tinged with urgency.

"Officer, where is Sidharth?"

The officer pointed toward a nearby cell. "Over there."

Sana's gaze followed his hand, and her breath hitched when she saw Sidharth lying unconscious on the cold, hard floor. Her chest tightened as she took in his disheveled appearance-messy hair, pale complexion, and an expression that hinted at discomfort even in his unconscious state.

"He passed out from consuming too much alcohol," the officer explained, watching her reaction.

"What do you mean by 'too much'?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she kept her eyes fixed on Sidharth.

"He drank nearly a quarter of a vodka bottle," the officer said, gesturing to the bottle. "And I suspect he had several shots of whiskey before that."

Sana's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's... a lot of alcohol."

The officer nodded solemnly. "It is. According to the bartender at Happy House, he's a regular there. The bartender called his number to check if he'd gotten home safely, and I happened to answer the call."

Sana sighed softly, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. She signed the paperwork the officer handed her, ensuring Sidharth could be released.

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