As the day slipped into the evening, the tension between Kinjal and Shubman had completely dissolved. They had spent the last few hours laughing, teasing, and even playing a few silly games-Shubman's sulking was now a distant memory.

The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink as they made their way back to the residential complex. Kinjal checked her phone, realizing it was time to head home. She thought about Abhishek and Vayra and wondered if they had wrapped up their time together.

Pulling out her phone, she tried calling both of them, but neither picked up. Kinjal frowned slightly, tapping her nails against the back of her phone in frustration. "Must be busy," she muttered to herself.

Turning to Shubman, she said with a small smile, "Alright, I should get going now. Thanks for... well, the company."

Shubman smirked, his hands casually stuffed in his pockets. "Sure, Kinjal Mathur, anytime you need someone to tease you endlessly, you know where to find me."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. With a wave, she walked towards the building while Shubman watched her retreating figure.

As Kinjal entered the elevator and rode up to her floor, she wondered why Abhishek and Vayra hadn't answered their phones. Brushing the thought aside, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, ready to unwind after an unexpectedly eventful day.

As soon as Kinjal opened the door to her apartment, she noticed the living room was a mess.

Popcorn and snack wrappers were scattered across the table, empty drink cans littered the floor, and the TV was playing none other than 365 Days, a steamy movie that was just reaching its climax.

Kinjal groaned in frustration, muttering,

"Seriously, couldn't they clean up a
little?" She called out, "Vayra! Abhishek!
What the hell is this mess?"

But there was no response.

Suspicious, Kinjal cautiously walked
toward the bedroom. As soon as she
opened the door, her eyes widened in
sheer horror.

There, on the bed, were Abhishek and
Vayra, tangled together in a passionate
embrace, their lips locked, completely
lost in their own world.

The sound of Kinjal gasping made them freeze. They quickly scrambled to cover themselves with the blanket, looking utterly flustered.

Kinjal immediately slammed the door
shut, her face burning with
embarrassment.

"Oh my god!" she shouted from outside. "What the hell is Wrong with you two?!" From inside, Vayra's muffled voice called out, "We thought you weren't coming home yet!"

Kinjal pinched the bridge of her nose,
pacing the hallway. "Yeah, clearly, you
thought wrong! Also, on my bed? Are
you kidding me?"

Abhishek coughed awkwardly. "Sorry,
Kinjal! Won't happen again, promise!"

"Damn right, it won't!" Kinjal snapped,
storming back into the living room. She
flopped onto the couch, her mind racing.

"I need a drink," she muttered, shaking
her head as she grabbed a bottle of
soda from the table and took a long sip.
It was going to take a while to unsee
that.

-----

Kinjal took a long sip of her soda, muttering under her breath, "These two are unbelievable." She looked around at the messy living room, deciding she couldn't just sit there. She picked up the popcorn bowls, snack wrappers, and empty drink cans, grumbling about how she wasn't their maid.

Finally, her eyes landed on the TV still playing 365 Days. The heated scenes annoyed her further, and she grabbed the remote, turning it off with a sharp click. "I can't believe they were watching this," she huffed.

After about 15 minutes of cleaning and venting to herself, Abhishek and Vayra awkwardly emerged from the bedroom, adjusting their clothes and looking sheepish.

Abhishek scratched the back of his neck, avoiding Kinjal's glare. "Uh... thanks for not killing us," he mumbled.

Kinjal shot him a look, crossing her arms. "Oh, don't thank me yet. I'm still deciding if I should report you two to HR for ruining my peace."

Vayra groaned, walking over to Kinjal. "Come on, Kinjal, don't be so dramatic!" she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Dramatic?" Kinjal snapped. "You two left the living room looking like a tornado hit it, on top of traumatizing me in the bedroom. You're lucky I haven't packed my bags to move out yet!"

Abhishek raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! We'll clean up next time-"

"There won't be a next time!" Kinjal cut him off, pointing a finger at him.

Vayra chuckled nervously, grabbing Abhishek's arm. "Alright, we're sorry, Kinjal. We'll make it up to you. How about dinner tonight? My treat!"

Kinjal narrowed her eyes at them but eventually sighed. "Fine. But don't think I'll forget this anytime soon. You owe me big time."

Abhishek and Vayra exchanged relieved smiles, while Kinjal grabbed another soda from the fridge, muttering, "This better not become a regular thing..."

------

Kinjal walked into her bedroom and sighed in relief when she saw that Vayra and Abhishek had already cleaned up the mess. She could still smell the remnants of popcorn and snacks lingering in the air, but at least the place looked presentable again. She quickly grabbed the old bedsheets, muttering to herself, "God knows what they did here," and started changing them out. She locked the door behind her, hoping for some peace and quiet for the night.

Once done, Kinjal headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, letting the hot water wash away the irritation from earlier. Afterward, she grabbed a can of Coke from her mini-fridge and boiled some water to make noodles. With everything settled, she plopped herself on her bed, enjoying the warmth of the heater nearby. The cozy comfort of her own room was exactly what she needed.

As she ate her noodles, she couldn't help but hear Vayra's playful giggles and Abhishek's voice faintly coming from the living room. They were obviously having fun, and for once, Kinjal didn't mind. She was just thankful that she had some space to unwind. The last thing she wanted was to be pulled into their chaos again.

She took a deep breath, sipped her Coke, and decided to let it all go for now. "At least they cleaned up," she muttered, glancing toward the door. "I'll deal with them tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me, my noodles, and my peace."

As Kinjal sat there, quietly chewing on her noodles, her mind was far away from the food in front of her. Her thoughts kept swirling back to the scene she had walked in on earlier. She tried to focus on the comforting warmth of the noodles, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Abhishek and Vayra together.

Her stomach churned, and the guilt weighed heavily on her heart. The image of them laughing, sharing intimate moments, had been something sacred to them. She never intended to interrupt or make them uncomfortable, yet she had. And the worst part was, she had disturbed them at a time when they were finally able to spend time together after so many busy days.

"Why didn't I knock? I should've known," she muttered under her breath, her voice shaky. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy. It was like her entire world had collapsed into that single moment of intrusion, and she couldn't escape it. The guilt gnawed at her, a constant reminder of how she had ruined what could have been a perfect moment for her best friend and her boyfriend.

Kinjal felt an overwhelming pressure in her chest, like a weight that she couldn't shake off. Her tears, which had started as a quiet trickle, soon became harder to control. They blurred her vision as she stared at the noodles in her bowl, the food now cold and unappetizing. She felt disconnected from everything around her, as if she wasn't really there.

The guilt kept whispering in her ear. "You shouldn't have barged in. You were the one who ruined their moment. They never get time like that-why did you have to interrupt? They probably needed that time to reconnect."

Her stomach twisted again, but this time, it wasn't from hunger-it was the emotional overload that was tearing her apart. She couldn't stop herself from crying, her shoulders trembling with the weight of her own self-blame. The tears dripped steadily down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound. Her sobs were muffled, hidden by the pillow she clutched tightly in her arms as she let the sadness wash over her.

She felt weak and small, like she had failed as a friend. She was supposed to be there for Vayra, to support her, not to disrupt her private moments with her boyfriend. Kinjal buried her face deeper into the pillow, hoping that the tears would stop, but they just kept coming, her heart breaking with every passing second.

"Why do I always mess things up? Why can't I just get it right for once?" she thought, her mind spiraling further into self-criticism.

The guilt didn't stop, didn't fade. It clung to her, and she couldn't shake it off no matter how hard she tried. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. She had let down her best friend. She had invaded their private moment, something that they had clearly needed, and in doing so, she had ruined everything.

Kinjal's tears flowed freely now, her body shaking as she cried into the pillow, feeling utterly lost. There was no way to take back what had happened. No way to undo her mistake. She wished she could just disappear, escape the suffocating guilt that surrounded her.

And all the while, her mind kept returning to that moment. The moment she had opened the door, the moment her eyes had locked with theirs, and the look of surprise and discomfort on their faces. The silence that had followed, thick and awkward, was the last thing she ever wanted. She hated that she had caused it.

The minutes passed, though they felt like hours. Kinjal couldn't bring herself to stop crying. She felt like a failure, like she had let down the one person she cared about more than anything. Her best friend.

And in the silence of her own room, she realized there was no one else to blame but herself.

As Kinjal ate her noodles in the dimly lit room, her mind replayed the events of the day. The image of Vayra and Abhishek together, laughing and cherishing a rare moment of intimacy, kept flashing in her mind. She felt a pang of guilt stabbing at her heart. I disturbed them... I barged into their moment. They're so busy, and today was their day to just be with each other, but I ruined it.

Her chest tightened as she slurped the last of her noodles. The noise of her chewing was the only sound in the room, but inside her mind, a storm was raging. Slowly, tears began to spill, silent and unnoticed at first, until her shoulders started shaking under the weight of her emotions. She tried to brush them away, but the guilt snowballed into something heavier, something that reached far beyond this one mistake.

Soon, her thoughts spiraled to places she had buried for too long. Her guilt wasn’t just about today—it was everything. Her family trauma resurfaced, the painful memories of growing up in a fractured home where love always seemed conditional and fleeting. The constant longing for stability, for approval, haunted her. She had worked tirelessly to build herself into someone strong, someone unshakable, but right now, she felt like a house of cards.

Then came the stalker. A wave of cold fear passed through her as she thought about the anonymous admirer who had been sending her messages, gifts, and letters, invading her life in ways that made her feel unsafe. Despite being an ACP, despite being trained to handle danger, this was different. This felt personal, targeted. It made her question her strength, her safety, her sanity.

And then, the fake relationship with Shubman Gill. What had seemed like a manageable solution to a rumor had grown into an inescapable nightmare. The public believed it was real. At first, she thought she could brush off the hate, the snide remarks, the invasive comments on social media. But as the months went on, it had become unbearable. The trolling, the cruel words—“She’s not good enough for him,” “Why is he with someone like her?”—cut deeper than she ever let on.

She hated pretending to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t just the charade—it was the weight of the judgment, the endless comparison to others, the constant questioning of her worth. Her every move, every outfit, every word was scrutinized. She felt like her entire identity had been reduced to being “Shubman Gill’s girlfriend,” a role she never asked for, a label she never wanted.

She recalled how Shubman, despite his occasional teasing and kindness, sometimes added to the frustration. He didn’t understand what it felt like to be the one facing the brunt of the public’s hate. The world adored him, but for her, there was no respite. She was either ignored or ridiculed. And the worst part? The hate wasn’t just from strangers—it was from people she thought she could count on, people who claimed to be her friends.

Her thoughts shifted to her career, the one thing she had always taken pride in. As an ACP, she was supposed to be fearless, decisive, and unshakable. But the weight of her responsibilities felt heavier than ever. People expected her to be perfect, to always have the answers, to never falter. But how could she uphold justice when she couldn’t even protect herself from the chaos in her own life?

Kinjal placed her bowl aside and hugged her knees to her chest, tears streaming freely now. Her mind was a tangled mess of anger, guilt, fear, and exhaustion. She cried for her past, for her family, for the person she used to be before the world took so much from her. She cried for the woman who was trying so hard to stay strong, even when it felt impossible.

The room felt suffocating, her thoughts louder than the silence around her. She couldn’t stop thinking about the expectations everyone had of her, the image she was forced to maintain. She felt like a fraud, like she was failing at everything—her job, her relationships, her own sense of self.

Maybe they’re right... maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe I’ll never be enough for anyone.

She buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled but relentless. It felt like every part of her was breaking, piece by piece. She thought about calling someone, anyone, but who would understand? Vayra was busy with Abhishek. Shubman would probably tease her if she showed even an ounce of vulnerability. And her family? They were the source of so much of her pain.

Kinjal felt trapped, boxed in by the roles she was forced to play and the expectations she couldn’t meet. The world saw her as strong, capable, unshakable. But in this moment, she felt like nothing more than a fragile, broken woman, crumbling under the weight of it all.