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. ❤❤

Jyo had said, "But if you have something to say to her, something real, tonight might be your night..."

But how? How could he breech the topic without sounding pathetic or a creep, or making an excuse again? What if Jun dismissed it too, acted like she didn't hear him say 'I like you', or god forbid, ran away again? But where would she go? Home? This late? It was almost three in the morning. Trains wouldn't be running, and late night buses were as seedy as dark alleys, complete with smells of alcohol and inebriation. No. He couldn't risk it. Her safety before his pride, always. It's the way a sound father would have raised him. It's how he would raise his son—if he ever had one. Which was looking like a pipe dream. No wonder Ma was constantly trying to find him a wife or Jyo a ramro keta.

Yet Jyo's words hounded him till he was wide awake and buzzing, lying there on that sofa, practically an arm's length away from Jun on the mattress.

He eyed the dark globe of her head, poking out of the sirak.

Say something to her. Say it. Tonight is your chance. You're 'drunk' remember?

She was probably asleep, though. They'd said their awkward 'goodnights' well over fifteen minutes ago before she disappeared under the covers and turned her back to him. 

'Go on. Do it. Ask her, "hey Jun, you awake"?' His inner Jyo prodded.

He quietly cleared his throat. He should. After all, he couldn't very well get drunk again and speak things randomly...

Maybe I'll pretend I'm speaking in my sleep?

He feigned a low snore, all the while dying of embarrassment inside.

"This is stupid. I don't snore," he mumbled, even more quietly.

"Yes, you do." The unexpected whisper in his ear almost had him jump up, screaming, "Bhoot."

Jyo hovered over him, from the other side of the sofa, empty water bottle in hand, possibly going to the kitchen for a refill. She raised her brows in Jun's direction and he could read her question as well as if he was seeing her in daylight.

'So? Did you talk?'

He shook his head. "I'm working on it."

Jyo made a show of glancing at her non-existent watch on her wrist. "Don't work on it too long, or it will be the morning."

He peeked at Jun, still as a roman statue, and shook his head. I can't.

Jyo sighed and shook her head. "Why do I always have to help you?" And before he could say 'Go away', she frowned at that very roman statue. "Hey, Juney, sutya ho?"

"Jyo!" Shashank scrambled to cover his twin's mouth, but the woman cherished her gym membership like he cherished his wine and his laptop; not to mention she wrangled zoo animals day in, day out. So god only knew what he was thinking.

Jyo peeled his hands from her mouth like she was peeling a flaccid banana. "Ke? I'm giving you a nudge," she hissed, her brows wiggling suggestively in Jun's direction.

"I don't need a nudge," he hissed back, swatting her away like a fly. Go away. Get.

"Jun." Jyo grabbed his hands in her vice grip, and peered around his head at her mark.

"Stop it," he murmured, struggling to free his hands and push Jyo away.

But the faint rustle of movement behind him froze him mid-tousle on the sofa.

"Ke bho, Didi? Did you need something?" Jun did not sound like someone roused from sleep.

Shit. That means she heard the whole thing.

Shashank peered at the air mattress in terror, his heart basically a throbbing pile of nerves. And that stupid cheese sandwich Jyo had forced him to eat? Well, that threatened to make a reappearance.

Jun had not only turned, she had sat up; gazing at them both like phantoms in a stage show.

"Shashi had something to say," Jyo fired, jumping away from him as if she could read his thoughts and know what he wanted to do. Clamp her mouth shut again.

"You did?" Jun fixed him with her curious gaze.

"Yes." His heart ballooned in panic. Chest squeezed tight. "No... I—" His mouth dried. His thoughts screeched to a halt, trying to formulate a coherent answer.

He could hear Jyo chuckle softly and imagined her mumbling, "My job here is done."

Instead, she said, "I'll leave you two to it, then. G'night," and shuffled away as if she hadn't stirred the pot.

"What is it?" Jun whispered, moving to the edge of her mattress. "Do you need to throw up again? I'll get the bucket."

Yes. No. Fuck. This is hard.

"No. I'm fine. I just—" He glanced at the corridor until the Jyo's door closed behind her.

They were finally alone again.

"I—" Shit. How do I say this? "I wanted to say I—I like you." The words flopped out of his lips before he lost the nerve. "Like, I like you like you, not like I like you because you're nice, like I said. I like you like one loves the sun on a cold winter morning." Dear God, had he just said 'like' a thousand times? Heat bloomed on his cheeks. He pulled at his collar as if the loose material was constricting his airflow.

"Like a lobster loves..." His breath burned in his lungs for release. His heart echoed in his ears in the quiet space. He could faintly make out the stitching of her brows, no doubt wondering what lobsters got to do with her. The seconds stretched, making it unbearable. Damn Terry and her analogy.

If he could dig a hole in the floor and hide in the cold earth, he would. He wanted to know what she was thinking; he wanted to see her expression, decipher the minute telling of truths. Yet he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. This was not how his night was supposed to go. He hadn't drunk so he could corner her and profess his love.

The streetlight, diffusing through the thin curtains, bathed the room in a low hum of light. He could make out the TV in the corner, the Annapurna range painting from Nepal, they had bought off a local artist in the Patan Darbar Square the first time they visited Nepal, hung on the wall above the old fireplace Ma used as a storage of old magazines and newspapers for god knew what reason.

Silence permeated the room, punctuated occasionally by the faint drum of Ma snoring in her room down the corridor.

His skin burned with discomfort. His heart squeezed in disappointment. Jun probably thought of him as a friend and nothing more, or more accurately, her flatmate.

"I'm sorry. That was probably uncalled for." He shifted on the sofa, angling himself so he didn't domineer her. "You moved in with me understanding that I'm not that kind of guy, but I'm turning out to be exactly like that asshole you avoided in the previous place."

The sofa was suddenly lava. The entire room was.

"I'm sorry. You're here for your ex and I'm this drunk, rambling things I shouldn't be. I should go home and leave you alone." He rose, fully intent on leaving, as soon as he could work out where Jyo had hid his phone, wallet, and keys. But the world spun like he was riding a top.

He didn't register the hands that held him until the motion died.

"Sit." That was all she said. "Sit."

"I'm sorry." He complied, feeling like she'd thrust a hot poker through his torso.

"What's your name?"

She began the set of simple questions Jyo had armed her with for examining his cognitive decline. He almost wanted to laugh as he replied, "Shashank Ghimire."

"How old are you, Shashank?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. Either Jun really thought something was wrong with him, or she was avoiding the whole mess he'd dumped on her lap. "Thirty two."

"And where do you live?"

He replied, hardly paying attention to his own words anymore. What was the point? Jun didn't even want to acknowledge that he'd confessed 'I like you', like he was some hormone-riddled teen in a schoolyard.

"And what is it you do for work?"

"I write romance novels." He let it all go, the strain on his shoulders. He sighed it out.

"You write what?"

Shit, did I just say I write or that I write romance?

He blinked up at her. She was staring at him like she couldn't believe her ears, like this was the biggest revelation of the night and not, you know what?

"I write romance?" Hysterical laughter threatened to peel out of him like a madman. "Like the one you're reading."

It was so unexpected, but Jun laughed. Not a derisive laugh, but of utter joy. Even her dark eyes twinkled in the dusky room.

"You write romance?"

"Like Zachary Eve."

"Like Zachary Eve?"

"Exactly like Zachary Eve." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, feeling the tension that had been building in the room since he walked into the house, dissipating like wisps of cloud on a bright, sunny day.

What the hell. He'd already made a fool of himself, declaring his feelings. What was the worst that could happen if he told her the truth? He could feign amnesia in the morning and hope to God Jun will never ever brought it up. Ever.

"In fact." He stretched his hand out towards her. "Hi, I'm Zachary Eve, award-winning romance author, who just confessed he liked a girl and is slowing dying inside. Please do him a favour and club him over the head, so I don't remember any of this in the morning."

Jun's eyes darted from his hand to his face, to his hand, before she finally returned his handshake. "You're Zachary Eve?"

Shashank laughed nervously. "One and only. Unless there is another—someone who hates me because I took his name."

Jun fell back onto the air mattress. Her eyes locked on him. "You're Zachary Eve?" She shook her head as if letting it sink in. "I've been living with him all this time?"

"I didn't know how you'd react"—he shrugged—"you know, to that. Most people just scream their heads off, or if they're Nepali, I can almost hear their eyes rolling in their heads—'he's a romance writer?'—so I didn't tell you. In case you laughed."

"Why would I"—Jun hid her face in her palms and shook her head once more. "This is a lot."

Shashank's heart sank a little. Sure, Jun wasn't laughing at him, but maybe she was also judging him the way others had growing up.

"Yeah, I guess... I'm gonna go get some fresh air." He rose to his feet and grabbed the oodni from the sofa he'd been wearing earlier. "And I'm really sorry I've made this all awkward. It really wasn't my intention... to fall for you again. It's just... I couldn't help it." He paused in the corridor, finally taking in her beautiful face. "But I promise, I won't make this awkward for you. I meant what I said the other day. You want your ex back, I'll help you. That still stands. I promise."

With that, he wrapped himself in the insufficient oodni and stepped out the front door, welcoming the snappy kiss of the night air. It was four in the morning, the streets abandoned, just the way he preferred it, and he marched. He marched until he was no longer cold; the whiskey burned away; and his feet blistered in the flip-flops he stupidly slipped on before leaving the house.

And all that while, he swore, he swore he'd never speak a word of his feelings to Jun again, unless she asked him to.

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! 🖤