“Sir… Sir…”

The bartender hurried toward Siddharth, who was standing near the counter, checking something on his phone.
Siddharth looked up.

“YES?” he said calmly.

“Sir… ek ladki zyada drink karne ki wajah se wahi so gayi hai,”

the bartender said, slightly worried.
“Uske paas na koi ID hai… na hi koi uske saath aaya tha…

kya karein, sir?”
Siddharth closed his eyes for a second and shook his head in irritation.

“I TOLD HER… DON’T DRINK SO MUCH,”

he muttered under his breath.
Then louder, slightly annoyed—

“SAMBHALTI NAHI… TO PEETI KYUN HAI?”
He exhaled slowly, then straightened his coat.

“CHALO… DIKHAO KAHAN HAI,”
he said, already walking toward the lounge area.

.

.

.

The lounge was silent now. The last of the guests had left, and only the low amber lights and soft music remained.
Siddharth walked toward the couch where she lay.
“HEY… TAXI GIRL…”

he said, bending slightly, trying to wake her.
Shehnaaz shifted, her brows tightening, lips moving as she blabbered softly, lost somewhere between sleep and memory.

The waiter still stood nearby.

“TUM JAO,”

Siddharth said quietly.
The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving them alone.
Siddharth sat beside her and tried again, gently touching her shoulder.

“HEY TAXI GIRL… wake up…”

No response. She was too exhausted, too drained to even move properly.
After a moment, Siddharth sighed. He couldn’t just leave her there alone in that condition. Carefully, he lifted her and carried her to his penthouse upstairs, placing her on the bed and covering her with a blanket.

Her eyes fluttered open for a second. They were unfocused, glassy with tears and alcohol, and filled with a kind of sadness that lingered even in sleep.
Before he could say anything more, she suddenly leaned forward.

Her fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, and her lips met his.
For a moment, Siddharth froze completely, surprised by the sudden warmth, the softness of her lips, and the way she held onto him as if she were afraid he would disappear too.

“” he murmured against her lips, trying to pull back gently.
“YOU’RE NOT IN YOUR SENSES…”
But she only held him tighter, her hand sliding behind his neck, her fingers tangling slightly in his hair as if searching for comfort, not passion—like a broken heart trying to hold onto the nearest warmth.

The kiss deepened, slow and unsteady, filled more with pain than desire.
Siddharth let out a quiet breath, his hand instinctively coming to her waist to steady her as she almost lost balance. He pulled her slightly closer, more to support her than anything else, and for a brief moment, the world outside disappeared—the city, the noise, the responsibilities—everything faded into the silence between two lonely people.

Then suddenly, her grip weakened.
Her head rested against his shoulder, her breathing slowing as sleep overtook her again, leaving the moment hanging unfinished in the quiet air.
Siddharth looked at her for a few seconds, something unreadable in his eyes.

“PAGAL LADKI…”

he whispered softly.
Carefully, he lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs to his penthouse. He laid her on the bed, pulled the blanket over her, and stood there for a moment, watching her sleep—her face peaceful now, as if the storm inside her had finally quieted for the night.
Outside, Mumbai glittered under the rain, unaware that somewhere high above, two strangers’ lives had just crossed a line neither of them had planned.

.

.

.

Next morning…
Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains.

Shehnaaz stirred, her head aching slightly. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. The room was unfamiliar—elegant furniture, tall glass windows, and a faint scent of coffee lingering in the air.
She sat up abruptly.

“Yeh… main kahan hoon…?”

Fragments of the previous night began flashing in her mind—the bar, the bitter drinks, the rain, a man’s voice… and then blurred memories she couldn’t fully piece together.

Her heart began to race.
Her gaze fell on the couch across the room.

Siddharth was sleeping there, one arm resting over his forehead, still in the same clothes from last night.
For a moment she just stared at him.
Then anger rushed in.
She jumped out of the bed and marched toward him, shaking him roughly.

“UTHO!”

she said sharply, hitting his shoulder.
Siddharth woke with a jerk, startled, still half-asleep.
“WHAT THE—”🔥

Before he could finish, she hit him again.

“TUMNE BHI MERA FAYDA UTHAYA! MAIN TUMKO CHODUNGI NAHI!”

she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and humiliation.

She raised her hand again, but this time Siddharth caught her wrist mid-air.
In one swift motion, he stood up and gently but firmly pinned her hands, stopping her from hitting him again.

“RELAX,”

he said, his voice calm but firm.
She struggled, trying to free herself, but his grip was steady. It was impossible for her to overpower him.

Their eyes met.
Her brown eyes were blazing with anger… and fear.
His eyes were steady, serious now, without the teasing from last night.

“MADAM,”

he said quietly,

“MAINE AAPKA KOI FAYDA NAHI UTHAYA.”
She stopped struggling for a second, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“JO BHI HUA…”

he added, a faint smirk appearing on his lips,

“…AAPNE HI SHURU KIYA THA.”

For a brief moment, confusion crossed her face as she tried to recall.
Siddharth noticed the hesitation and slowly loosened his grip.

“HAATH CHHOD RAHA HOON,” he said calmly.
“DON’T START AGAIN.”

He stepped back, giving her space.

The anger on her face faded, replaced by embarrassment… then something heavier.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She turned away, covering her face, and suddenly began to cry—quietly at first, then uncontrollably, as if all the pain she had been holding inside finally found a way out

.