A/N: If you stop reading or get bored at any point in the chapter/story, I'd love to know. Just a simple, 'Hey, this is where I stopped,' would do if nothing else so I can fix them before publishing next year. TYSM for your help. ❤❤

Exhaustion squeezed his eyes shut and darkness invited him to continue sleeping when he felt a sharp sting on his cheek and Jyo snapping with concern, "Hey! Wake up. Wake the fuck up, or I swear, I'm about to march to your house and set your laptop on fire, gadha."

I'm up. I'm up. Gee... You're so violent...

He peeled his eyes open after some effort. The bright ceiling lights prickled his eyes.

Give me a minute.

"Shit, dude. How much did you drink?" Jyo loomed over him, thankfully blocking some of the light from hitting him directly.

"Aliali?" He pinched his index finger and his thumb together, the universal sign for 'little' or 'small' depending on the context, and tried to sit up. It made the whole earth quake violently, like a dog shaking off water after a bath. He reeled back down to the solid wooden floor with relief, even inviting the chill lingering in the hallway. Perhaps they would sober him up. "Whahappened?"

"You tripped on your foot, is what happened."

"Keho? Ambulance bolaune ho?" Ma's nervous voice flitted to him from the bottom of the stairs and Shashank groaned. Great, now Ma was up. And if Ma was up, there was no way he could ask Jyo's help without the woman opening up Air Nepal network and telling everyone, 'My son's finally getting married to a girl I chose,' ala Crazy Rich Asians style sans all the glitz and glamour and actual money. Not that he didn't think there weren't any Crazy Rich Nepali. Some uncle on their father's side was said to be filthy rich, alas how filthy rich, he wouldn't know.

"Heer ta... his head didn't split open, did it?"

Shashank groaned.

And Jyo thinks I'm melodramatic. Split open. Thanks, Ma. My head is fine...

He reached for the back of his head to double check and brushed only the floor and his hair, which needed a cut.

"No. His head's fine; his lip isn't." Jyo forced him to sit up, shoved him towards the closest wall, and leaned him against it.

So that's why he could taste blood? He must have split his lip open on impact.

"Butmyheaddoeshurt." He closed his eyes, welcoming the relief it gave him.

Maybe if I just sleep it off...

"It's probably a concussion from smooching the floor the way you did." Jyo smacked him again. "Don't you sleep."

"Is he okay?" the next voice suddenly sent a flash of nausea up his throat.

Fuck. Jun's here? Why?

"Ah... Shashi... Fuck... Disgusting..." Jyo roared, jumping back from him, but too late. His sick not only covered his own pant legs and shirt, but her dress too.

"Thorry. Thorry..." He swiped his mouth on the already ruined shirt and tried not to peer up. Mortification boiled him alive from the inside like a proper, tortured lobster. A lobster doing a bang-up job of wooing his one true love. At least that's how the romantic in him was thinking about Jun, and all it had taken was for him to sleep with his ex; drown himself in regret; drink half a bottle of whiskey he kept 'for show only' in one night; and call her several times in the Uber to only hear, 'You've reached Junikiri. I'm not available to take your call right now, so please leave a message and I'll ring back when I can.'

"Che...That's just"—Jyo retched in front of him, always the sympathetic vomiter, before she scrambled to her feet—"gross..." and ran to the bathroom.

"Harre... such a big boy and such a mess." Ma tsked a foot away in her long nightie, then waddled to the kitchen, possibly to fetch cleaning supplies, muttering, "You're not a baby anymore. Ke soche hola Junkiri le. Like father, like son..."

Not only was Ma comparing him to their absentee father, but wondering what impression this made on Jun, and it was the latter that made him want to throw up again. Except Jun was standing right in front of him, hovering, if you will, and thus he forced the uneasiness back down.

"Sorry." The word felt hollow coming out of his acid burned throat.

"Are you okay?"

Yes. No... Fuck...Please look away.

"I'mfine. Ijust..." He pushed up to sit straighter so as not to resemble a drunk passed out on his own filth and tamped down a third wave of nausea. "I don't drink often, so when I do—"

"You drink your face off?" Jyo appeared from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, having already rinsed off. She waved the ruined dress bundled up in her hand at him. "You're lucky I live here and I can change, but I swear, if you've ruined this dress, you're buying me four in its place."

Any other time, Shashank might have argued with his sister, called her out on her atrocious mathematics skills. Their mathematics loving father might even cringe if knew just how terrible his two offspring were at it. Perhaps that was why he left them and went back to Nepal without a word. He was ashamed of calling them his prodigies. But Jun was right there, peering at him with the kind of interest he had been coveting for months. Except this was the worst time and place he could have envisioned it. He was pretty sure her 'interest' was as romantic as watching cricket under the blistering Aussie sun his twin dragged him to occasionally. How could he look anything but pathetic? Here he was. Inebriated, on the floor, practically at her feet and seconds away from begging her, 'Please, give me a chance'. By arguing with Jyo on the finer points of additions would only add 'argumentative' and 'petty' to the tally of things that told Jun why she shouldn't be with him. Ever. Probably.

But he may as well own the shitty night. Jun was already there, watching him sit in a sea of yuck. How much further could he fall?

"Fine. I'll get you five to make up for it." He sighed. "Got something for me to change into?"

"I'll see what I have in my closet," Jyo muttered darkly. "Unless you want Baba's old stuff, mum keeps 'hidden' in her closet like we don't know it's there."

"No. I don't want any of his stuff." He snapped just as Ma appeared behind them, lugging a mop-bucket and a roll of paper towel, her expression shifting from concern to hurt like he'd just slapped her. They both had.

"Clean up and go to bed, the lot of you." Ma slipped past the mess without looking at him or Jyo. "And make sure the air mattress is blown up for Junkiri..."

"Yeah, it's already in the bhaitho kotha. Come. He can clean his mess. It's the Ghimire way." Jyo tugged Jun gently towards the kitchen while Ma ambled upstairs with a languid gait, clearly upset but not wanting to appear so in front of their pahuna. "We'll put a pot of coffee on and make him a sandwich or something. I'll get you something to sleep in."

"You're staying here tonight?" Shashank moved to grab the paper towel on all four—he wasn't entirely sure he could stand upright yet—and looked up at Jun. "Why?"

"'Cause I said so." Jyo ignored him and tugged at Jun again. "Come. Let's put the kettle on while I change."

Why is Jun staying here tonight? It's me, isn't it? She's avoiding me?

"Can you get me some gloves, Jyo?" He unfurled a fistful of paper towel and carefully dabbed at the mess as the women walked away. Jyo disappeared into her room. Jun moved onwards to the kitchen. Away from me. "And a rubbish bag."

A moment later, the feet padding into his vision weren't Jyo's stubby toes, probably painted gold to match tonight's outfit he ruined, but Jun's long, slender ones. They were plain. No nail polish. No toe ring like Jyo. Her second toes were longer than the firsts. A sign many in Nepal construe as: She'll be the boss in her marriage. And there was a kothi on the nail bed of one of her big toes.

I wouldn't mind her being the boss of me...Not that we're together, but I wouldn't mind it...

"Shashank?"

I mean, it's you. Junkiri. My firefly. Why would I mind anything you do if we got married?

"Sorry, kasko biha?"

"Huh? Did I say marriage?" To his horror, Jun was crouched before him, holding out the gloves he'd asked for with gloved hands of her own. In the other, she held a rubbish bag. Panic welled in his throat. Was she about to help him clean up? NO. The thought was unfathomable. He wanted her to care about him, not for him.

"I said I can manage, thank you." He pointed quickly at her gloved hands. "It's my mess."

"In my house"—She met his gaze, not at all phased by the mess, or the smell. And if she was, she didn't show it. Instead, she dragged the paper towel out of his reach, and unspooled a handful of fresh sheets. "—we help each other, even if it is their mess. It's called being a family."

Family. Her words echoed in his mind with fresh hope. Family. Had she just implied he was her family? Was that something he should take as a 'Oh, she likes me and wants me to be her family,' or 'Oh, shit, she called me family? That's worse that being friendzoned. It's dai-zoned.'

She touched his hand gently, startling him out of his thoughts. "Four hands are better than two."

"No. I'm fine." He moved swiftly to keep her from touching anything. Like his ma said, he wasn't a kid anymore. But the move upset his balance, and he wobbled dangerously close to falling in his own mess.

"Are you though?" Her arms caught him—just before he face-planted—in such a way that she was practically embracing him. The closeness of their bodies, her touch, made his stomach turn, and it wasn't the unpleasant kind. It was exciting being this close to her. So close if he wanted to, he could reach out and cradle her cheeks, or tuck that pesky strand back behind her ears, or kiss her. And he really wanted to kiss her. Those small, plump lips. He'd been dreaming of them since their accidental kiss. But, the moment was wrong, the lighting was harsh, the house was silent but for the gurgling kettle and Jyo's angry mutterings as she rummaged through her closet upstairs; he reeked of vomit, and Jun was not his to kiss.

"I'm fine. Ma kassam." He leaned back on his haunches and pinched the thin skin on his neck. The sign of the most serious or the most dangerous (should your mother hear it) promises a Nepali guy could make. On my mother's head. "Nothing a shower and a few slaps won't fix," he added, pointing at his cheek Jyo had smacked to wake him. He didn't know whether it had been an efficient way to wake a drunk, but it had certainly helped sober him a bit.

"I'm sorry." He dropped his head, suddenly tired and wanting nothing more than to shower and crawl into a bed. This is the worst night. "You shouldn't have had to see this."

"See what? That you're a human and you get sick, or that you drank yourself 'silly' as Didi called it?" Though her question was direct, her tone was kind. A hint of a smile lingered on her lips as she resumed helping him. "Mero dai often says a lot goes unsaid when a man drinks, because men don't know how to speak their feelings."

Like I love you, please go out with me?

But that was that word again. Dai. Older brother.

Is that how she sees me?

He stole a glance at her before shrugging. "Or maybe they drink to forget, or regret."

"Is that what you were doing? Regretting something?" Jun's hand brushed his, gloved or not. "I'm sorry. I ruined your date, didn't I? If I'd known you had a friend over, I'd have stayed away. I was just excited to tell you I got the job, that I can finally start paying my rent... Next time, just text me, 'stay out', so I don't come and kill the mood."

"The mood? What? No." Without thinking, Shashank grabbed her hand, desperate for her to see that his regret wasn't that she came home, but that Shetal did. When their gazes met and hers flitted to his hand, he quickly retracted it, adding, "That's not what I was regretting... or maybe a bit—"

"I made it super awkward—"

"No. That was all me. Awkward is my middle name. I shouldn't have"—he cleared his throat—"done what I did with the person who broke my heart." Maybe it was the whiskey talking, or maybe it was a concussion, or that they were in a mess he wanted to clear promptly so as not to subject her to it longer than necessary and it was making him take risks. Either way, words poured from his lips, smooth as butter. Maybe 'inebriation' suited him around Jun. It was the first time he'd willingly talked about Shetal or hoped for something more with Jun.

"She is your girlfriend?" Jun regarded him for a moment.

A moment that stretched and yawned, making his insides squirm.

"Ex," he said, towelling the last of the yuck and throwing them in the bag she'd brought as casually as he could. "I foolishly proposed to her on our third anniversary, in Thailand... and turned out, she only agreed to the holiday because she wanted to 'let me down gently'."

Great. Now I sound pathetic. Letting me down gently... What am I, five?

"Oh," Jun said, and it sounded like, 'Oh, so you're still in love with her,' which wasn't true anymore.

"The last time I saw her was a year ago, give or take. She left me kneeling at that restaurant. Until today." Shashank pushed to his feet, a little less jelly-like now, and grabbed the mop and bucket, more for support than an eagerness to clean. He itched for Jun to say something like, 'So she regretted it and came back to you?' so he could say, 'No. We're over. We've been over for a while, I realise that now. It's just me from here on out, unless...'

To his dismay, Jun quietly got to her feet and peeled off her gloves, saying, "You must have missed her."

Like you miss your ex?

"We're not back together," he muttered quickly, before she took it as his truth. "I know what you saw today might make you think otherwise, but that's not what's happened. You won't have to run into her again, I—"

"That's—" Jun threw her gloves in the rubbish bag and tied it closed. "I think Didi's calling me."

Without warning, she hurried away, rubbish bag in hand, leaving him standing there, shocked. He'd spilled his gut, actually spilled it, and instead of reacting, even with false concern, he watched her disappear down the corridor. Was it something he said?

Minutes later, salty as a sardine in a can, he flushed the dirty water down the toilet, then headed out into the backyard with the mop and bucket. As he did Jyo's room, he called out, "You got something clean I can wear home?"

"You're not going home." Jyo's cry followed him out into the chilly night unexpectedly.

#

Once showered, he stood in the backyard, a hose in one hand, a coffee mug in the other. The water gushed out onto the bucket and mop from the hose until the frigid water ran clear. He shivered against the cold in nothing but a thin woolen oodni around his shoulder, Jyo's grey trouser that was two inches too short for him, and a plain white T-shirt that seemed like it was shrink-wrapped straight on him. He was replaying the last of his conversation with Jun on a loop, wondering why she ran away. Was it something he said? Something he did besides the vomiting? Was it just him, unable to stir up an ounce of interest from her besides her sympathy?

He absently brought the mug to his lips, only to realise he'd already chugged the lot to get a little more sober. The faded print caught his eye: BEST DAD IN THE WORLD. Words that drew a dry laugh from his lips, still stinging from the cut. Their Baba had been anything but 'the best', yet he faintly wished the old fool was still around and not busy siring new progeny with a younger version of Ma back home.

After the humiliating day he'd had, he could use some advice from a man who'd seen more and done more than he had. For someone to say, 'It'll all be all right, son.' For someone to tell him Jun was running from him, but something else. Maybe she saw a cockroach crawling on the wall? Or a spider? A ghost, a thought, the unbridled pull to kiss him; that she didn't know how to handle it.

But alas, there was no one who could give him the pep talk he desperately wanted, and probably needed. Instead, it was the kiss of cold air, the canopy of light-polluted night sky, and the sound of the sliding doors screeching opening behind him.

"Shashank?" Jun's melodious voice all but left another cut on his skin. It stung. Shashank. Not Shashi. But his full name. The distance between them couldn't be farther. Who was he kidding? Jun probably didn't even notice him, let alone harbour feelings that said they'd be kissing under one such starry night in the future, in love.

"Yes." He twirled, accidentally turning the hose towards her. She jumped away in time to avoid the stream of water, but her borrowed checker flannelette pants copped the splatter.

Jun held out a grilled cheese sandwich wrapped in more paper towel, her eye on the hose in his hand. "Didi says eat."

"I'm sorry..." He turned the water off and threw the hose on the grass before taking the sandwich. His appetite had died the moment he'd heard Jun tonight, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

Jun shrugged. "It's okay."

He peered at the kitchen window so as not to stare at her. "I meant what I said. You won't have to meet Shetal again."

She shrugged again, as if to say, 'Why are you telling me about her?'

A flicker of anger bubbled in his chest before it logically died. Jun didn't owe him anything. Not her interest, not her words, not her understanding. Not even the rent she was angling to pay now that she got a job, because this, whatever it was between them, was a platonic transaction devoid of feelings. At least that was how she made it seem.

Yet, he couldn't help but ramble on, that pesky hope flickering faintly in his heart. But what if she does like you... not like you like her, but just a little?

"What I mean to say is"—he pulled a breath in sharply and stared at her toes. Here goes—"I will be more mindful of what I do in and around our space." He glanced up to see her brows knit together in question, and continued. "We both live there and you shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable and run away... or stay here to avoid me."

"It's your house, Shashank," Jun interrupted. "I wasn't avoiding you."

"Yes. It's my house, but it's yours too. You're not my guest. You're not a favour to my ma or your ama. I didn't agree to give you a room because I'm some 'good son', who obeys his ma, or that I felt sorry for you. I said yes because it's you. The girl I—" Here was his chance to lay it all out on the table. Nothing was likely to happen between them now, considering today. He should tell her the truth while liquid courage lingered in his blood, making his mind and his tongue loose, or looser than he normally held them. After all, what's the worst she could say, 'No, Shashank, I don't feel the same way'? So be it.

He dragged his gaze to meet hers finally so he wouldn't say the next words to her feet. He wanted to see her reaction. "I said yes because I like you."

He didn't miss the awkward smile on her lips, or that she subtly took a step back from him. He hadn't exactly expected her to leap up with joy and declare, 'I like you too, Shashi,' but it wasn't what he hoped for.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, you're nice, and I like that." He kicked the hose, wanting very much to kick himself. The whiskey hadn't completely left his system yet, but 'you're nice, and I like that'? That was his cover up? That was how he was gonna take his words back?

"'Cause I'm nice?" Jun repeated his words, probably unsure of what she'd head.

He smiled, though a sick feeling grip his heart. Here he was, drunk for once in his life, and he couldn't even be brave enough to leave it at 'I like you.' Perhaps Jun was better off with someone bravely. Someone who actually had the guts to say, 'Junkiri Baral, I like you, and I was wondering if I could take you out sometime.'

Instead of all that, he kicked the hose again, and rambled, awkwardly trying to fill the silence yawning between them.

"This morning, I remembered I had something to do, so I came home without waiting for you, and Shetal was there, waiting for me. I swear it was like I planned it. Things happened... and you walked in to witness the biggest, lowest moment in my life. She was the one who dumped me months ago."

He couldn't bring himself to say 'it was just a booty call,' and that he'd moved on.

He stole a glance at Jun, expecting her to have scuttled all the way back to the door if not hurrying into the house, to get away from him. Instead, she was standing there looking at him like that—like she wanted him to finish his story, daring him to go on. Get it all off his chest.

"So what happens now?" she asked, seeming to hang on to his words.

"With what?"

"With you?" She blinked. Her voice a whisper and nothing more.

"Me?" He held her gaze steadfastly for once, despite the gang of butterflies vying to fly out of his throat.

Was it a figment of his imagination that she was holding her breath? Could she be waiting for him to say it? Say 'I like you'? That maybe, somewhere behind those mesmerising brown eyes of her, she was desperate to hear her name on his lips?

"Me. You. Whoo whoo. What are you two, owls?" Jyo grumbled from the doorway, giving him a knowing look. "Get in before Ma screams at you both for keeping the back light on. Some of us have work in the morning."

"Then go sleep." Heat bloomed on Shashank's cheek despite the cold, despite the insufficient oodni wrapped around his shoulders.

"Sorry, Didi." Jun threw him a look before scrambling inside.

When it was just him and his worst-timing-ever twin, Shashank shook his head. "You had to interrupt."

"She's not rebound material, mate." Jyo lowered her voice.

"I wasn't—That wasn't—"

"That wasn't. That wasn't." Jyo mocked him, stepping outside. "She gets the mattress. You're on the couch."

"I can just go home, you know."

"Yes, you could, except you went and hit your head on the damn floor. So you can't be alone for the next 12-24 hours." Jyo sighed, crossing her arms to keep warm.

"But you just said you have work tomorrow."

"Yes, but Ma doesn't."

Shashank groaned. "I don't wanna be with Ma alone all day. She'll fuss, and call the ambulance if I even blanch a little."

"Then don't blanch." Jyo threw a cautious look over her shoulder at the door. Shashank followed her gaze to see that the doorway was empty. Jun was long gone. "You don't get to mess with her. She doesn't need your filmy-book duniya. She deserves something real, if you can even manage that—to stay in the moment and not get ten years ahead of yourself, imagining how life's gonna be." Her tone was accusatory.

"Is that what you think I did with Shetal? Imagined ten years ahead and freaked her out?" He looked up to see Jyo studying him.

"You were milk, and she was lemon. Things were bound to curdle," Jyo spat. "And you were foolish not to see it. Why do you think Ma never liked her? And no, it wasn't because she wasn't Nepali. God knows the woman doesn't care about all that after Baba—"

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Shashank felt a knot in his chest. Jyo and Ma never thought they'd make it.

"Would you have listened?"

Shashank glanced at the door again, a sickly feeling tying his innards. "I'm here now."

"Are you?" Jyo stepped closer and tapped a finger on his temple. "Or are you here? Or are you here"—she glanced pointedly at the house—"because you feel guilty about sleeping with one woman when you like another?"

He must have looked surprised, because Jyo added, "Yeah, Jun told me who came by the house today. I mean, she didn't know your history, but the description fit her."

"I don't know what..." Shashank hung his head. "One minute, I was jealous, imagining tryst between Jun and someone, and the next—"

"You're boinking uglies with your ex?" Jyo nodded. "It's called closure. There. You've had it. You got your rocks off one last time. Are you done now? Moping around, begging the universe to send her back, just so you can curdle? Or are you ready for the real thing?"

"What do you mean?" Shashank looked up so fast, he almost gave himself a whiplash. "You don't believe in love."

Jyo shrugged. "But you do."

"And what a fool I am for it." He peered up at the door, almost wishing Jun was standing there smiling at him as a sign.

"If you're here out of some warped sense of duty, that you need to apologise to Jun about throwing your ex in her face, then don't. Let it be. You're both adults. You can tango with whoever you like. You'll get over it in a few days. But"—Jyo drove her sharp finger into his chest next. "You do not get to transfer some misguided hope for romance because you once had a crush on Jun and see this as your chance to have some fun."

"I—" he began, only for Jyo to stab him with her finger again.

"I'm warning you. You like her, you tell her you like her, but only if you mean it. You can't take it back because you changed your mind or panicked later. Love is not a YoYo."

"What are you on about?" Shashank narrowed his eyes at his twin. He was close to saying, 'Who hurt you, Jyo?' well aware it was a highly cliched line in many romances.

"Never mind." Jyo stepped away. "You're both in the lounge tonight," she whispered. "Jun's gonna check on you every couple of hours with a simple question because of the"—she pointed at her own head—"and I need to sleep. But if you have something to say to her, something real, tonight might be your night, because tomorrow, if things don't go your way, you can pretend—"

"I was too drunk to remember certain things?" He couldn't help but look at Jyo with awe. For someone who readily discounted love as a temporary insanity because of pheromones, she was unusually romantic tonight. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because, evidently, you suck at life alone. Besides, what sort of romance writer would you be if you were a heartbroken hermit that no longer believed in its magic?" Jyo laughed, a kind of laugh that bloomed with loneliness.

"You used to believe in it, too. Once."

"Before Baba opened my eyes." Jyo turned towards the house. "If tonight goes your way, I suggest making a date of it. Go see Henry and Inge's club. The poor thing didn't get to enjoy it last night, because of you-know-who. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Shashank stared after his sister.  

Thank you for reading JUST ANOTHER LOVE STORY. Don't forget to comment, react, vote, or follow me to see where this story ends up in 2025! 🖤