|Chapter 1(🔞)|

Khas The Kabhi Ham Bhi

Kisi Ki Nazron Mein Ghalib,

Magar Nazron Ke Taqaze

Badalne Mein Der Kahan Lagti Hai...

~ soniya.A

The tension in Shalini's room was palpable, thick enough to choke on. The air felt stifling, weighed down by years of unspoken expectations and rigid traditions. Raj sat stiffly on the edge of his seat, his fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. His posture screamed discomfort, every muscle in his body tense, as though he were bracing himself for a blow. His brow was furrowed deeply, the edges of his jaw tight with barely contained frustration.

Across from him, his mother, Shalini, sat at the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the embroidered bedsheet with such force that her knuckles whitened. Her eyes bore into Raj with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. The words that had been hovering at the edge of her lips all day finally spilled out.

"Sagai toh krva di humne tere kehne par, Raj," she began, her voice low and heavy with disapproval. "Lekin kya voh ladki hamare taur tarike samajh payegi?" (We agreed to the engagement because of you, Raj, but can that girl understand our customs?)

Raj inhaled sharply, the words striking him like physical blows. His fists clenched even tighter in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as if that physical pain might be an anchor for his spiraling emotions. He stared at the floor for a moment, jaw clenched, trying to suppress the torrent of frustration building inside him. Each word his mother spoke felt like a lash across his skin, a reminder that his choices were always scrutinized, never fully accepted.

But when Shalini's voice turned cold, she continued to press on. "Naa maa-baap hai, na paisa hai us ladki ke paas," (She doesn't have parents or money,) she muttered, half under her breath, though loud enough for Raj to catch every word.

His mother's words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. Raj's breath hitched in his throat, his heart pounding with a fury he hadn't felt in a long time. His mother's doubts about Mishti—about her worth, her upbringing—dug deep, scraping against the raw nerves of his own insecurities.

Suddenly, something inside him snapped.

Raj shot up from his seat with an abruptness that startled even Shalini. His chair tipped slightly backward before righting itself, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. Anger flashed in his eyes, bright and uncontrollable. His lips curled as if he were holding back a flood of words, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to keep his composure.

"Mom, I'm done with this!" Raj's voice cracked with frustration as it echoed through the room, his normally composed tone unraveling as he let out everything he'd been bottling up. His mother's constant disapproval, her incessant criticism—it was all too much. "I've had enough!" His voice rose with every word, reverberating against the walls like a thunderclap.

Shalini barely had time to blink before Raj stormed out of the room, his long strides purposeful and full of barely contained rage. The door slammed shut behind him with a deafening crash, the force of it rattling the walls and reverberating throughout the house. The echo of his departure lingered in the air, a tangible manifestation of the unspoken divide between them.

Left alone in the suffocating silence, Shalini remained seated on the bed, her posture rigid and unmoving, but inside, a storm brewed. She clutched the bedsheet tighter, her knuckles trembling. She stared at the door Raj had stormed through, disbelief clouding her features. Her heart pounded in her chest, anger and frustration simmering beneath her composed exterior.

"Kya hua hai mere Raj ko?" (What has happened to my Raj?) she whispered, shaking her head slowly in disbelief. The boy who had once followed her every wish without question had now become someone unrecognizable, someone who would defy her so openly.

Outside, Raj paced the hallway with quick, agitated steps. His mind was a mess of thoughts, emotions swirling violently within him. He felt like a volcano on the verge of erupting, the anger still boiling beneath the surface.

"She doesn't have parents or money..."

His mother's words kept playing over and over in his head, twisting the knife deeper. How could she reduce Mishti to those things? How could she be so blind to the person he loved?

Raj exhaled sharply, leaning his hands against the wall, the cool surface grounding him. His breathing came out in harsh gasps as he tried to wrestle control over his emotions. His fists, still clenched, shook slightly as he fought the urge to punch the wall.

"Why can't she see Mishti the way I do?" he thought bitterly. To him, Mishti was more than enough—she was kind, resilient, and loving. But to his mother, she was a checklist of what she lacked.

Back in the room, Shalini continued to stare at the door, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. Her son's outburst had shocked her to the core. Raj had always been the obedient one, the one she could rely on to uphold the family's traditions. And now, here he was, standing against her for a girl who didn't fit into their world.

"She doesn't belong," Shalini thought bitterly, her nails digging into her palms. "How can he not see that?"

Her heart ached with disappointment. It wasn't that she didn't want Raj to be happy, but Mishti—how could that girl possibly fit into their family, into their world of wealth and status? Shalini was convinced that Mishti didn't have what it took to manage the responsibilities that came with being a part of their family.

But as much as she tried to rationalize her feelings, the pain of Raj's rejection cut her deeply. He had never spoken to her like that before. His anger had shaken something in her, and despite her own stubborn pride, Shalini couldn't help but feel a growing sense of loss—loss of control, loss of the bond she once had with her son.

She blinked back the sudden sting of tears, pushing the emotions down. She wasn't going to lose him to that girl. Not without a fight.

Ooo

Raj stormed into Mishti's room, each step pounding against the wooden floor, his eyes sharp with frustration. "Mishti, where are you?" His voice echoed through the empty space, only to be met with silence. His gaze darted around the room—no sign of her. A vein throbbed on his forehead as his jaw tightened, the pent-up rage threatening to escape. His fists clenched tightly, knuckles whitening as he felt the heat of his anger rising. It burned through his veins like wildfire, consuming every rational thought.

Where was she?

The emptiness gnawed at him, and with each second, his temper flared hotter. He yanked open the closet, scanned the bed, even pulled the curtains back as if she might be hiding there. When he found nothing, his frustration hit a boiling point. Without thinking, his hand reached for the metal flask sitting innocently on the table. His grip tightened around it, ready to fling it across the room, to let something break, to feel that satisfying shatter.

But then... her voice.

"Raj... kya murge ki tarah jaise subah subah chilla rahe ho? Ruko naa, aa rahi hu mai."

(Raj... why are you screaming like a rooster this early morning? Wait, I'm coming.)

The warmth of her tone, the light teasing in her words, hit him like a calming wave. His chest tightened, but not with anger. Instead, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite himself. The sharp edges of his mood began to soften. Slowly, almost sheepishly, he set the flask back down on the table. With a heavy sigh, he closed the door, the click of the lock sounding like a promise to himself to keep his temper in check.

Moments later, Mishti emerged from the bathroom, her face still slightly flushed from the heat of the water. She was dressed in a simple pink kurti paired with well-fitted blue jeans. Her damp hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her delicate face. As soon as Raj saw her, the remnants of his anger melted away like snow beneath the sun. She looked radiant, her presence filling the room with a kind of warmth that he couldn't explain.

He watched her for a moment, standing there, oblivious to the effect she had on him. How could she calm him without even trying? His heart pounded in his chest, louder than the thoughts in his head.

"R...Raj, what happened?" Mishti's voice broke the silence between them. There was a tremble in her words, just barely detectable, but it made his gut twist. She stepped toward him, her eyes searching his face, as if trying to read the storm of emotions he was wrestling with.

Raj didn't speak right away. He couldn't—words seemed to fail him as he took in the sight of her. Instead, he reached for her, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brushed against her cheek. The small touch sent a jolt through his system, grounding him.

"Bas... mood kharab hai."

("It's just... my mood isn't good.")

The words felt too simple, inadequate even, but it was all he could manage. His voice was raw, edged with vulnerability, as if he had stripped away the layers of armor he always wore around her. His hand moved to her waist, drawing her close. The gesture was soft but firm, his possessiveness slipping through the cracks of his carefully controlled facade.

Mishti's breath hitched. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, resting there for support as he held her against him. The proximity made her heart race. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, his breath fanning against her forehead. There was something overwhelming about it—the intensity of his emotions, his closeness. She wanted to comfort him, to soothe whatever inner storm was tearing him apart, but she also felt a tinge of unease.

For a moment, Raj just held her. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. She smelled faintly of jasmine soap, a scent that was so distinctly her, and it grounded him, pulled him back from the edge he had been teetering on. His fingers tightened slightly on her waist as if he feared letting go would send him spiraling again.

But then, he felt it—her hesitation. The way her fingers tensed on his shoulders, the way she shifted slightly, as if trying to create space between them. And just like that, the fragile calm he had found began to crack.

Mishti gently broke free from his grasp, stepping back toward the mirror. Her fingers trembled as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, needing something—anything—to occupy her hands. She glanced at her reflection, searching for composure, but all she saw was the worry etched across her features.

"Tell me what happened," she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, almost as if she feared that pushing him too hard might bring the anger back.

Raj watched her in silence for a moment, his heart still racing, but this time it wasn't from anger. It was from the fear of losing her. He ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping him. He wanted to tell her everything, but he didn't know how. Didn't know how to explain the storm of emotions that had consumed him this morning—the anger, the insecurity, the fear.

He couldn't find the words. Not yet.

"Mishti..." he started, but the words caught in his throat. His gaze met hers in the mirror, and for a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other through the reflection.

Mishti waited, her heart pounding as she watched the conflicted emotions play out across his face. She wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that it was okay, that whatever was troubling him, they could face it together. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the lingering remnants of the anger she had felt from him earlier, or maybe it was the growing unease in the pit of her stomach.

Raj moved closer to Mishti, his reflection growing larger in the mirror until he stood just behind her. The heat from his body seemed to radiate through the small distance between them. Mishti could feel the intensity of his gaze without turning, their eyes locking in the glass. Her breath caught, but she held his stare, unflinching.

"Why are you so beautiful, Mishti?" Raj's voice was a hushed whisper, barely audible, yet it sent a shiver down her spine. His hand rested gently on her shoulder, his touch reverent, almost as if he were afraid she might slip away. Desire clouded his eyes as he traced his fingers along the smooth curve of her shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Mishti tensed under his touch, feeling the tug of emotions she wasn't sure she wanted to confront.

Slowly, with a careful and deliberate movement, Raj swept Mishti's hair to one side, letting it fall over her shoulder like a waterfall of dark silk. He leaned in closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath against the back of her neck. There was a quiet longing in the way he moved, as if this moment was fragile, something precious he had waited for far too long.

Mishti's heart pounded in her chest. But there was an unease growing within her, a restlessness that wouldn't settle. His touch—what was once comforting—began to suffocate her. The weight of his presence felt heavier than before.

And then, in a sharp, unexpected motion, Mishti pushed him away.

Raj stumbled backward, caught off guard by the force of her resistance. His back hit the bed with a dull thud, his eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. The confusion quickly morphed into frustration, his anger bubbling beneath the surface like a volcano threatening to erupt. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched, staring at her with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

"What is this behavior, Mishti?" His voice trembled, his anger barely masked beneath the strained control he was fighting to maintain. He could feel the tension in his jaw, the way his teeth ground together. He wanted to understand, but his mind was clouded with rejection and frustration.

Mishti stood her ground, her chest rising and falling with rapid, uneven breaths. Her eyes met his with a fierce defiance, but underneath it, there was a storm of emotions fighting to stay hidden. "Raj... listen, ye sab galat hai." (Raj... listen, this is wrong.)

Her voice shook, but there was an unwavering firmness to her words. She wasn't going to let this slide—not this time. She needed him to understand, to respect her boundaries. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder that she was standing her ground for a reason.

Raj rose to his feet slowly, his hands shaking with the force of his suppressed emotions. "Are meri jaan, isme ab kya galat hai?"

(But my love, what's wrong with this?)

There was a desperation in his voice now, a quiet plea laced with frustration. "Shaadi hone wali hai hamari..."

(We're getting married...)

He moved toward her again, his hands reaching for her like a man trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers.

But Mishti's eyes flashed with anger, her lips tightening into a hard line. "Hone wali hai... hui toh nahi hai naa."

(Going to happen... but it hasn't happened yet.)

Her words struck Raj like a slap, the sharpness of her tone slicing through the haze of desire and frustration clouding his mind. She wasn't backing down, and the resolve in her voice only heightened his own desperation.

Raj took a step closer, his frustration rising with each passing second. His hand shot out, grasping her shoulder, a sense of urgency driving him. He needed her to understand, to see that he loved her, that this was right. But Mishti's body stiffened against him, her resolve only hardening as she pushed back against his touch.

Something inside Raj snapped. Anger surged to the forefront, and before he could stop himself, his hand flew up, ready to strike. The anger pulsed through him like a second heartbeat, his vision blurring with red.

But then, as his hand hovered in the air, everything seemed to slow. The reflection in the mirror showed his hand poised in a moment of violence—violence against the woman he loved. His heart stuttered, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. His hand shook, and the rage drained from his body, leaving only shame in its wake.

Raj's chest heaved with the force of his emotions as he staggered backward, his arm falling uselessly to his side. The room was thick with silence, the air between them heavy and suffocating. He stared at Mishti, his eyes filled with regret, with the crushing knowledge of what he had almost done.

Mishti stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock, her hand instinctively covering her chest as if shielding herself from the blow that never came. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. But beneath her fear, there was a steely resolve—a strength that held her upright, even as her body trembled.

Raj's voice cracked as he spoke, barely a whisper. "Mishti... I..."

But the words failed him. He couldn't undo what had just happened—couldn't erase the look of fear in her eyes or the way his hand had hovered, threatening her. The shame was unbearable, pressing down on his chest until he couldn't breathe.

Without another word, Raj turned and walked out of the room. His footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet space, each one reverberating with the weight of his regret. Mishti watched him go, her body still trembling from the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

As the door closed behind him, the silence that followed was deafening. Mishti slumped against the wall, her strength finally giving out as her knees buckled. She slid down to the floor, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to hold back the tears that burned behind her eyes.

But no matter how hard she tried, the tears came anyway, hot and fast, spilling down her cheeks as she hugged her knees to her chest. She was alone in the room, the echo of their confrontation still hanging in the air like a ghost that refused to leave.

And for the first time, Mishti felt truly afraid—afraid of what was to come, of what had almost happened, and of the man she loved.

Ooo

Mishti sighed, her thoughts heavy as she gazed out of the window, lost in contemplation. The persistent ringing of her phone interrupted the quietude of the room, dragging her back to reality. The loud, piercing sound filled the air, jarring against the soft atmosphere she had been trying to hold on to. With a resigned smile, she picked up the phone, holding it close to her ear just as a wave of enthusiasm came flooding through the speaker.

"Hello...Mishti kaha hai, teri shaadi ki kitni saari shopping karni hai mujhe!"

(Hello...Mishti, where are you? I have so much shopping to do for your wedding!)

Riya's voice, bright and full of excitement, buzzed with anticipation. It was infectious, the kind of joy that couldn't be contained, and Mishti couldn't help but smile at her friend's enthusiasm. She held the phone slightly away from her ear, softening the impact of Riya's exuberance.

"I am ready...where are you?" Mishti replied, her voice laced with nervous excitement. The upcoming shopping trip was supposed to be a lighthearted distraction from the emotional rollercoaster of her morning.

"On the way, coming to pick you up!" Riya's voice was filled with cheer, and with that, they hung up. Mishti found herself sitting still for a moment, gathering her thoughts before preparing to leave.

But just as she was about to stand, a sharp voice cut through the air like a knife, startling her. Mishti looked up, her eyes meeting those of Shalini, her future mother-in-law, who had appeared in the doorway. Shalini's presence felt heavy, imposing, casting a shadow over the room that seemed to stretch and envelop Mishti's plans.

"Tum aaj kahi nahi ja rahi ho."

(You're not going anywhere today.)

Shalini's voice was firm, her tone leaving no room for discussion. Mishti's heart sank as the realization hit her—her outing with Riya was over before it had even begun.

Shalini's stern expression quickly morphed into a saccharine smile, though the sharpness remained beneath the surface. "I mean...Raj's brother is coming, specially to meet his brother's wife, so stay at home." Her tone was falsely sweet, the underlying manipulation barely concealed.

Mishti could only nod, biting back her disappointment as Shalini turned and left the room. The tension between them hung in the air like a storm cloud, Mishti's heart weighed down by the realization of how much control Shalini already wielded over her life.

As Shalini walked away, she muttered under her breath, her words dripping with disdain, "Hamare hi paiso se shopping krogi agar krogi toh."

(You're going to shop with our money.)

The words stung, even though Mishti had heard worse. She remained seated, her mind racing with a mix of frustration and helplessness as she listened to Shalini's footsteps retreat downstairs

Ooo

Mishti's Room

The soft clinking of their juice glasses echoed in the otherwise quiet room as Mishti and Riya sat on the bed, the air between them filled with an unspoken tension. Riya was shifting restlessly, her fingers tapping the rim of her glass, clearly still irritated about their canceled plans.

"Kya yaar... kuch ghanto mein vapis aa jate," (What is this yaar... we would have come back in just a few hours), Riya groaned, her voice louder than usual. Her frustration bubbled to the surface, sharp and unfiltered, as her foot tapped impatiently against the floor. Mishti watched her, taking in the way Riya's usually carefree face had scrunched up in annoyance.

Mishti swallowed, her gaze turning to the half-empty glass in her hands. She spun it slowly, watching the juice swirl in lazy circles. "Let it be... his brother is coming, that's why." Her voice was calm but tinged with resignation, like she was used to bending to these familial demands. She tried to smile, to brush it off, but the smile never quite reached her eyes.

Riya scoffed, throwing herself back against the pillows, her hair spilling messily over the fabric. "Toh kya... kahika PM hai?" (So what... is he the prime minister?) She rolled her eyes dramatically, frustration bleeding through every word. "Shaadi ke liye aa raha hai naa, yahi toh rahega." (He's coming for the wedding, he's going to stay here anyway.)

Mishti glanced at her friend, trying not to react, but Riya's words hit a nerve. She knew Riya meant well, but she couldn't bear any more arguments today. Instead, Mishti shifted the conversation, her voice softening as she stared down at her hands.

"Ye sab jaane de... tujhe pata hai aaj subah kya hua?" (Ignore all this... do you know what happened this morning?) Mishti's tone was quiet, almost fragile, and the sudden shift caught Riya off guard. Riya sat up straighter, her attention now fully on Mishti.

"What happened?" Riya asked, her voice immediately gentler, concerned. She set her glass aside, inching closer to Mishti.

Mishti bit her lip, feeling the weight of her emotions threatening to spill over. She could still feel the ghost of Raj's touch on her shoulder, the intensity of his presence that morning, the confusion in his eyes when she had pushed him away. Her heart twisted painfully just thinking about it. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

Setting her glass aside. She recounted the incident with Raj, her voice trembling slightly as she described the confusion, the tension in the air, the way she had pushed him away when things got too intense. She spoke of the anger that had flared in his eyes, the way he had almost—almost—raised his hand in frustration, but had stopped himself at the last second.

"I just don't like this Raj," Riya's voice cut through the silence, her tone low and serious now. "He gives me weird vibes, Mishti." Riya's eyes were searching Mishti's face, trying to understand the conflicting emotions that flashed across her friend's expression.

Mishti turned her gaze away, staring out of the window, where the afternoon light filtered in, soft and golden. She felt defensive, the instinct to protect Raj rising within her despite everything. "No, Riya," she insisted, her voice firm. She met her friend's gaze with a steady resolve. "He is a good man."

Riya's brow furrowed, but she didn't interrupt. Mishti pressed on, feeling a surge of determination to explain. "If he were bad, why would he be with me after all these years?" Her words came out faster now, her hands clutching her glass a little tighter. "We've been lovers since school, then college, and now we are getting married. He is the one for me, Riya. If not him, then who?" Her voice faltered slightly at the end, betraying the flicker of uncertainty she tried to suppress.

Riya's expression softened as she looked at Mishti, but her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, there was silence between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Riya could see how much Raj meant to Mishti—how deeply her friend believed in him. But that lingering discomfort still gnawed at her, and she couldn't just brush it aside.

"I don't know, yaar," Riya said finally, her voice tinged with unease. "It's just that... I don't trust rich boys." She sighed, her fingers playing with the edge of the pillow she was holding, frustration giving way to concern.

Mishti smiled at that, a small, almost wistful smile. She reached out and squeezed Riya's hand, her touch gentle and reassuring. "I understand," she murmured, "But Raj isn't like that." Her voice was softer now, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was convincing Riya. "He's different."

Riya looked down at their joined hands, the unease in her heart refusing to fade. She wanted to believe Mishti, to trust that everything would be okay. But as she glanced back at her friend's face, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. The tension, the uncertainty—it was all there, hidden behind Mishti's brave facade.

Riya didn't press further, though. Instead, they allowed the conversation to drift into lighter topics.

Ooo (🔞)

In the dimly lit club, the air thick with the haze of alcohol and the pulsing rhythm of bass-heavy music, Raj sat alone at the bar. His fingers traced the rim of his glass, the amber liquid swirling slowly as he lost himself in its depths. The burn of whiskey offered him a brief, fleeting reprieve from the suffocating thoughts that crowded his mind. His eyes were heavy with the weight of his own frustrations, the noise around him a distant hum compared to the storm within.

A soft hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his haze. Turning slightly, Raj squinted through the low light, his alcohol-fogged mind taking a moment to register Tina standing before him. Her smile was warm, but there was something beneath it—something more than just her usual playful charm. Concern.

"Tina..." His voice came out a little slurred, and he forced a smile, though it barely reached his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Tina slid into the seat beside him, her gaze never leaving his face. "First, you tell me why you're celebrating your wedding alone." Her voice was light, almost teasing, but Raj could hear the note of worry beneath it.

Raj waved her off, his hand shaking slightly. "Don't ask me, Tina... I am not celebrating." His words were bitter, tinged with a frustration that even the alcohol couldn't dull. He took another long sip from his glass, trying to drown the rest of his words in the burn of whiskey.

But Tina wasn't easily deterred. She leaned in closer, her eyes searching his face for answers. "What happened, Raj?" she asked, her voice softening, her hand gently cupping his face. "I'm your friend. You can tell me."

Raj's heart twisted at her touch, and for a moment, his emotions bubbled up, too raw to suppress any longer. "Why..." His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. "Why doesn't she let me come near her? We've been together for years... yet she still doesn't trust me." His voice cracked with the weight of his anguish, his normally composed exterior shattered by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Tina's eyes flickered with something—sympathy, maybe, but also something darker. She smirked slightly, her gaze sharp. "Maybe yes," she said quietly, her voice taking on an edge, "maybe she doesn't trust you."

Raj blinked, his mind struggling to process her words. He stared at her, his confusion growing as her expression shifted. Something had changed, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Before he could ask, Tina backed away, leaving him to wrestle with the unease her words had stirred within him.

The alcohol made his movements clumsy, and as he tried to steady himself on the barstool, he stumbled. Tina quickly reached out to catch him, her arms wrapping around him in support. But in the chaotic motion, Raj's hand brushed against her chest. Tina's top loosened slightly, exposing more than she intended.

"Shit... Tina, I'm sorry..." Raj stammered, his face flushed, not just from the alcohol but from embarrassment. He quickly hugged her, trying to shield her from the prying eyes of the crowd.

Tina laughed lightly, her voice dismissive. "Raj, it's dark here. No one can see. It's fine," she assured him, her tone surprisingly casual given the situation. She didn't seem bothered by the accidental exposure, but Raj couldn't shake the guilt.

"No, Tina, it's not right," he insisted, his moral compass struggling to stay intact through the haze of liquor. With a sense of decency, he took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. He couldn't allow her to walk around exposed, even if she wasn't concerned.

But as he handed her the jacket, the nausea hit him hard. Raj's face twisted in discomfort, and without another word, he stumbled towards the restroom, his stomach churning from the mixture of emotions and alcohol. Tina followed him closely, her steps quieter but purposeful.

"Hey... go back, Tina," Raj protested weakly as he reached the sink, gripping it for support. "I'm just feeling nauseous. I'll be fine. It's not like I'm gonna puke here."

Tina ignored him, locking the door behind them. The click of the lock echoed in the small, dimly lit restroom, and Raj's stomach dropped again—not from nausea this time, but from something more unsettling. She removed the jacket he had given her, tossing it aside, leaving her top still barely hanging on. Raj's eyes widened, caught between shock and disbelief.

"Tina..." His voice trembled as he backed against the wall, trying to regain control of his spinning thoughts. "It's... it's not dark here, you know." His gaze lingered on her exposed skin, his mind clouded with the alcohol but also something more primal, more dangerous.

Tina's movements were slow, deliberate. She stepped closer, her hands reaching for his tie. "Do you want me to go?" she asked, her voice dripping with seduction. Her fingers worked with ease, loosening his tie as her body brushed against his, then tightening it again, sending a shiver down his spine.

Raj's hands gripped the sink tighter, his knuckles straining under the pressure. His mind was spiraling, desperately trying to latch onto reason, but the alcohol in his system dulled his senses. He could feel Tina's presence like a weight pressing against him—too close, too intense.

"Tina, stop," he muttered, his voice unsteady as she stepped closer, closing the small gap between them. He turned his head away, trying to keep his thoughts straight, but it was hard. Her scent—sweet and overpowering—wrapped around him like a noose.

"Raj," she whispered, her voice low and coaxing. Her hand moved to his chest, her fingers dancing across the fabric of his shirt. "You don't really want me to stop, do you?"

He flinched at her touch, grabbing her wrist. His eyes snapped to hers, trying to convey his seriousness. "I mean it, Tina. Go back. This isn't right." He shook his head, but even as he spoke, his resolve felt fragile. His body was betraying him, his heart racing not only with anxiety but also with the magnetic pull she had over him.

But Tina wasn't one to back down. She smiled slyly, leaning in closer, her breath warm against his neck. "Isn't right?" she repeated softly, her lips brushing against his ear. "Then why haven't you pushed me away?"

Raj tried to steady himself, swallowing hard. He knew he should be stronger than this, but the alcohol mixed with the heat of her body pressed against his, and his resistance weakened further with every breath. "Tina, stop," he repeated, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

Her hands moved up to his tie again, tugging at it, and before Raj could stop her, she had loosened it. "You say stop," she murmured, her voice sweet and mocking, "but your body is saying something else entirely."

Raj squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the heat radiating from her, trying to block out the way her hands were pulling him closer. But when her fingers brushed his neck, he flinched. His body betrayed him. He could feel the stirrings of desire, the alcohol making him more vulnerable than he should have been.

"Tina, don't do this..." he managed, but she cut him off, her lips pressing against his with sudden force.

His hands moved instinctively to push her away, but she seized the moment, her mouth devouring his in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. He froze for a second—just a second—and that was all she needed. She pressed her body against his, her hands moving quickly to unbutton his shirt.

Raj's protests faltered, his hands trembling as they hovered between pushing her away and pulling her closer. His mind screamed at him to stop, but his body was quickly falling under Tina's spell. She kissed him again, and this time, the heat of the moment swept away what little resistance he had left.

Before he knew it, she had backed him against the wall, her lips trailing down his neck as her hands worked to undo his belt. "Tina, stop... please," Raj groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. But his words had no power behind them, and Tina knew it.

She grinned against his skin, her voice laced with seduction as she murmured, "You don't really want me to stop, Raj." Her hands slid lower, making him shudder as she undid the buckle and tugged at his pants.

Raj's breathing grew ragged, his hands gripping her waist as if to stop her, but he couldn't bring himself to push her away. He felt trapped—trapped by his own desires, by the alcohol that clouded his judgment, by Tina's relentless advances. His mind was screaming at him to stop this before it went any further, but it was too late.

Tina's fingers slid under the waistband of his pants, her touch electrifying. She guided his hands to her hips, her body pressing against his with undeniable force. "You know you want this," she whispered against his lips before capturing them again in a kiss that left him breathless.

Raj's hands trembled as they moved over her, almost against his will, pulling her closer. He groaned as their bodies connected, the tension between them snapping like a taut string finally breaking.

He could feel himself losing control, spiraling deeper into the moment as Tina pulled him onto her, her legs wrapping around his waist as she perched on the counter. The room spun around him, the dim light casting shadows that only seemed to intensify the heat between them.

"Tina..." he groaned, trying one last time to find some shred of self-control, but her hands were already guiding him, pulling him deeper into her orbit.

His breath hitched as their bodies joined, the connection so intense it nearly broke him. Tina gasped softly, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she held him close. They moved together in a heated rhythm, her moans filling the small space, mingling with his ragged breaths.

Raj's mind was a mess, torn between guilt and the undeniable pleasure that surged through him. He couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything but the sensations overwhelming him. Tina's body moved with his, her whispers in his ear spurring him on despite the conflict raging inside him.

And then, just as he felt himself reaching the brink, Tina's breath hit his ear—her voice was soft but laced with a cruel edge.

"You betrayed her, Raj... once again," she whispered, her lips brushing his skin as she spoke. "Like every time..."

What you think about the characters are introduced till now ??