Melody of Sin

࣪𖤐 MELODY OF SIN :

One Night Stand.

Age Gap Romance (she is older)

Teacher x Student (not briefly)

Revenge Marriage.

Co-Parenting Romance.

Second Chance Love.

𖤐

Rag-rag wo samaya mere, Dil par woh chaaya mere, Mujhmein wo aise jaise jaan, Gire barsaat mai paani jaise

━━༺ ❁ ༻━━

Y U V A A N

Bhai’s voice cut through the suffocating silence of the hall, sharp and steady enough to make every person present turn toward him.

“She is the one who was torturing Raavi. The one who was trying to pull our family apart.”

For a moment, I didn’t understand the words.

Not because I couldn’t hear them, but because my mind refused to accept them.

They stayed suspended somewhere between my ears and my heart, waiting for my brain to make sense of something that felt impossible.

Then my eyes moved toward Rhea.

She was still holding my arm, her fingers wrapped around me like she always did whenever she needed reassurance. Like I was still the person she reached for when the world became too heavy.

My wife.

That was what I had called her.

The same woman I had spent years protecting, believing she was too delicate for the cruelty of this world. I had convinced myself that if I stood between her and every harsh truth, she would finally feel safe.

I never imagined that one day, I would be standing there wondering if I had been protecting the wrong person.

Rhea’s face had gone pale. Her lips parted slightly, but no explanation came. Her eyes moved around the room, searching the faces of the people who had once trusted her, as if she was trying to find a way out of a situation she could no longer control.

And maybe that should have been enough for me to believe she was guilty.

Maybe I should have looked at her and seen only betrayal.

But all I could see were memories.

The girl who laughed with me in empty music rooms when everyone else had already left. The girl who would sit beside the piano and lose herself in melodies she never let anyone else hear. The girl who looked at me like I was the one person in the world who made her feel understood.

The woman who kissed me like I was her safe place.

The woman who whispered my name like it meant home.

I wanted to believe that person was still there.

I needed to believe it.

But standing in that room, surrounded by a truth I had spent years refusing to imagine, every memory I had carefully protected began to feel fragile.

Because maybe the most painful part of being betrayed wasn’t discovering that someone had changed.

Maybe it was realizing you never knew them as well as you thought you did.

My chest tightened as my mind desperately searched through the past, trying to find the moment where everything had gone wrong. Trying to find a sign I had ignored, a warning I had brushed aside because loving her had made me blind.

Before all of this, before the accusations and the damage she had caused, she was just Rhea Mehra to me.

The music teacher with a crooked smile and a sadness she always tried to hide behind soft jokes.

I still remembered the first time I saw her.

She would pretend she wasn’t looking at me whenever I entered the room.

I would pretend I didn’t notice.

And somehow, those small moments became everything.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for her.

She was never supposed to become the person I looked for in every room.

But she did. And I fell harder than I ever thought I could.

I thought I mattered to her. I thought I was helping her heal from things she never spoke about.

I thought I was the person who gave her the comfort she had spent her whole life searching for. But maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I was only useful because I loved her enough to ignore everything else. The woman standing in front of me now wasn’t the person I had imagined.

She wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t someone who needed saving.

She was the same person who had hurt Raavi. The same person who had stood by while my brother’s wife suffered. The same person who had accepted my love while keeping the truth hidden from me.

My stomach twisted painfully. My hands felt cold, my throat burning as I tried to force words past the weight sitting inside my chest.

“Rhea…” Her name felt different now. Once, it had been the easiest word in the world to say.

Now, it felt like a question I already knew the answer to. She didn’t look at me. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes carried something I couldn’t understand.

Guilt? Fear? Regret? Or maybe I was just searching for a reason not to hate the woman I had loved.

And that was when the truth finally settled in. I wasn’t betrayed by a stranger. I was betrayed by the woman I had imagined my entire future with.

My mind dragged me back to the beginning, to the night before everything changed.

The night I met her. The night at the bar.

And the woman who would become both my greatest mistake and the only melody I could never forget.

I had been drinking with my friends after my breakup with Nandini, trying to drown the humiliation instead of actually facing it.

That night, I was certain about one thing. I didn’t want anything serious anymore.

Not after her. She had cheated on me, and somehow, like the fool I was, I had convinced myself that it was my fault. That maybe I hadn’t been enough. Maybe I hadn’t loved her the right way. Maybe if I tried harder, if I apologized more, if I somehow became the person she wanted, she would choose me again.

So I begged her.

Then I begged Raavi to talk to her, to fix something that had already died long before I was willing to accept it.

And then I found her. In her room. In someone else’s arms. The memory still burned in a way I hated admitting.

Because the worst part wasn’t just what she did. It was how small I had made myself afterward.

God, I had been pathetic. I had told my family about her. Everyone knew how much I loved her, how serious I was about her, how certain I had been that she was the person I would spend my life with.

And then I had to stand there and accept that the future I had been defending so desperately had never existed. My jaw tightened as the memory returned.

I wasn’t some obsessive hero from a story who could destroy another man and call it love. I couldn’t hurt someone because they were chosen over me and pretend it was justice.

The truth was much uglier. I wasn’t obsessed. I was insecure. Maybe I didn’t even love Nandini the way I thought I did. Maybe I was just addicted to the feeling of being wanted. To the reassurance that someone had chosen me. To the illusion that I was finally enough for someone.

That night, I sat in the bar surrounded by noise, pretending I wasn’t falling apart

My friends were laughing, flirting, and enjoying the night like nothing in the world could touch them. Glasses clinked. Music played too loudly. People moved around us without knowing that my entire world had just collapsed.

And then my eyes found her. A woman sitting alone at the bar in a royal blue dress.

She wasn’t trying to look beautiful. She didn’t need to. There was something about her that demanded attention.

She was drinking like she was trying to erase a memory rather than enjoy herself. Every movement looked controlled, but there was something exhausted hidden beneath the sharpness in her eyes.

She lifted another shot to her lips, finished it, and placed the glass down harder than necessary.

Then she looked directly at me. Not shy. Not curious. Just unimpressed.

Something about that made me smile. Maybe because everyone else that night looked at me and saw the Oberoi name, the money, the confidence I pretended to have.

She looked at me and saw right through it. I adjusted my jacket and walked toward her.

Before I could even say anything, she picked up a lemon slice, sucked on it casually, and then flicked it in my direction.

I blinked.

“Hey,” I protested, looking at the lemon that had landed near me. Her eyes moved over me slowly before she spoke.

“You killed an animal for that jacket and still managed to look like a shrimp.”

For a second, I just stared at her. Most people either complimented me or tried too hard to impress me. She insulted me within five seconds of meeting me.

And somehow, I found that more interesting. I sat beside her anyway, ordering another drink for myself and telling the bartender to close the tab.

She let out a quiet laugh. “Fucking spoiled brats.”

I turned toward her. “What’s with the hate? You don’t even know me.”

She looked me over, her gaze sharp enough to make me sit straighter. “I know enough.”

She pointed casually at my drink, then at my clothes. “You’re in college, you’re not paying your own fees, and that card you just used isn’t yours. So yes, spoiled brat.”

She picked up her purse. “And I hate spoiled brats.” Before I could respond, she threw money onto the table and walked away.

I don’t know why I followed her. Maybe because I wasn’t ready to go back to my friends.

Maybe because, for the first time that night, someone had spoken to me like I was just a person and not someone who needed to be pitied.

Or maybe because something about her sadness looked strangely familiar. “Indian?” I asked when I caught up with her.

She glanced at me before nodding. Outside the bar, she slipped off her heels, looking more tired than she had inside.

“I can hold those,” I offered. She stopped walking and turned toward me. There was no anger in her expression now.

Just exhaustion. “I’m twenty-seven,” she said quietly. “I just got out of a mess. Don’t waste your time.”

Then she turned around and started walking away. I should have let her. Anyone sensible would have.

But that night, I wasn’t sensible.

“My girlfriend cheated on me too,” I called out.

She stopped. I didn’t know what I was hoping for. A conversation. A distraction. Anything that would keep me from going back to that empty feeling waiting for me.

“Looks like we’re equally broken.”

For a few seconds, she just stood there. Then she looked back at me. “Come.”

And like an idiot…I followed.

“I’m Yuvaan, by the way.” The introduction came out easier than I expected.

A small, crooked smile tugged at my lips as I said it, almost like some part of me was trying to convince myself that this was normal. That I wasn’t walking beside a stranger in the middle of the night because I was trying to escape my own thoughts.

“Rhea.” She waited a moment before answering. Her voice was soft, but there was a carefulness to it, like she measured every word before letting it leave her mouth. A faint smile touched her lips, but it didn’t completely reach her eyes.

It was the kind of smile someone gave when they wanted to be polite but didn’t want to invite anyone closer.

“So… what do you do?” I asked, mostly because the silence between us had started feeling too heavy.

The city moved around us, cars passing by, streetlights casting golden shadows on the pavement. But somehow, walking beside her felt strangely quiet.

She didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes stayed ahead, focused on the road rather than me. For a moment, I wondered if she had even heard the question.

Then she spoke. “Let’s not get attached, shall we?”

I looked at her. The sentence was simple, almost casual. But something about the way she said it made it feel like it wasn’t meant for me.

It sounded like something she had told herself many times before. I nodded, even though I didn’t fully understand why those words bothered me. Maybe because I wasn’t looking for anything serious either.

Maybe because, after everything with Nandini, I had promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to hurt me again.

And yet, hearing her put that distance between us felt strangely disappointing.

We continued walking, her steps slowing slightly as we passed through the quieter streets.

She stayed closer to the road, walking near the edge of the pavement. Ahead of us, a group of drunk boys stumbled in our direction, their voices loud and careless, their laughter filling the empty street.

I didn’t think. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. My hand reached for her arm, gently pulling her toward me as I switched our positions.

Now I was closer to the road. She was on the safer side. The movement was so natural that I didn’t even bother explaining it.

But she stopped. Only for a second. Her eyes dropped to where my hand was holding hers before she looked back at the boys passing by.

They walked past us without noticing. And only then did she release the breath she had been holding.

I let go of her hand, pretending not to notice the way her expression had softened slightly.

“Do you live nearby?” I asked.

Her answer came without hesitation. “I don’t have a place for tonight.”

I frowned. “What?”

“I’ll get a hotel.” There was something so casual about the way she said it that it took me a second to process.

“Why?”

She glanced at me, almost amused by my reaction. “Told you.” She shrugged lightly. “No strings.”

Her gaze moved ahead again, landing on the bright sign of a nearby liquor store.

“Beer?” she asked. I nodded. She walked inside without waiting for my answer.

I stayed outside, watching her through the glass doors. I didn’t know anything about her.

Not her past. Not her secrets. Not the reasons behind the sadness she carried so effortlessly.

Standing there under the city lights, watching her pick up a bottle like she was trying to hold herself together one decision at a time, I had a strange feeling.

Like this wasn’t just another random night. Like meeting Rhea Mehra was going to change something in my life.

I just didn’t know yet whether she would save me from the person I had become…or become the reason I would never be the same again.

Her chestnut hair fell freely down her back, moving slightly with every step she took. It suited her hazel eyes perfectly, making them stand out even more whenever she looked at me with that unreadable expression.

There was something different about her.

She carried herself with a confidence that didn’t ask for attention. She didn’t try to impress anyone. She didn’t seem to care whether people approved of her or not.

It was as if she had learned how to exist without needing anyone’s permission.

And for some reason, that fascinated me. I felt an unexpected pull toward her, subtle but impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the way she looked. It was the way she spoke, the way she challenged me, the way she seemed completely unaffected by the things that usually worked on everyone else.

Every time her fingers brushed against mine accidentally, I noticed.

Every time she laughed, I found myself wanting to hear it again.

And that confused me more than anything. Because she didn’t look anything like Nandini.

So why did she affect me this much?

Later, we ended up sitting beside the lake, our legs hanging over the edge while the city continued moving around us.

The noise of the bar felt like a distant memory now

All that remained was the quiet sound of water moving against the shore and the occasional hum of passing cars

For the first time that night, my mind wasn’t stuck on what I had lost.

I placed my hand beside hers on the cold concrete.

Neither of us moved closer. Neither of us moved away.

Then our fingers brushed. A small touch. Barely anything. But I felt it.

The sharp inhale that escaped me was embarrassing, but thankfully she didn’t comment on it.

Or maybe she noticed and chose not to.

The lake was calm beneath us, the water reflecting the dim streetlights, but my thoughts were anything but peaceful.

Everything about that night felt wrong. And somehow, exactly right.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked suddenly.

She was still looking at the water, not at me.

I glanced at her. “Trying to figure something out.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “What?”

Without really thinking, my pinky finger curled around hers. “How long I’ve apparently been attracted to older women.” A smirk tugged at my lips.

She finally looked at me, amusement flickering across her face. “Careful, Yuvaan.” Her voice carried a teasing warning.

“The older attractive woman might push you into the lake.”

The way she said my name felt strangely different. Too soft. Too familiar. Like it belonged there.

I smiled, leaning slightly closer without even realizing I was doing it. “Well,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt, “I’m not that weak either.”

A faint scent of cherries surrounded her. Sweet, and unexpectedly addictive.

I hated that I noticed. I hated even more that I didn’t want to stop noticing. Before either of us could say anything else, she suddenly turned toward me.

“Do you want to jump into the lake?”

I blinked. “What?”

She shrugged like she had just suggested getting another drink. “I just feel like it.”

Then she stood up, placing her heels and bag safely beside her. I stared at her. “Rhea, are you insane?”

I reached for her hand before she could take another step. She looked down at our joined hands. For a second, something changed in her expression.

A decision. A quiet acceptance that, for once, she didn’t want to think about consequences. Then she pulled me up before I could react. My jacket was off my shoulders before I even understood what was happening.

“What the hell—” She tossed it aside and dragged me forward.

The next second, the cold water hit me hard. A shock ran through my entire body as I gasped, the sudden temperature stealing the breath from my lungs.

When I looked up, she was laughing. Actually laughing. Not the polite smile she had given me earlier. Not the guarded expression she wore like armor. A real laugh.

Her head tilted back, water dripping from her hair as she breathed deeply, like she had finally released something she had been carrying for too long.

“You’re crazy,” I said, laughing despite my teeth already starting to chatter.

She looked at me with a brightness I hadn’t seen before. “And yet,” she said, splashing water toward me, “you still followed.”

“Hey!” I splashed her back, pretending to be annoyed, even though the sound of my own laughter betrayed me.

And somewhere between the cold water, the ridiculousness of what we had just done, and the way she was smiling like she had forgotten how heavy life could be…I realized something.

For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t thinking about Nandini. I wasn’t thinking about betrayal. I wasn’t thinking about what I had lost.

I was just there with Rhea. For the first time in what felt like forever, my mind wasn’t replaying the same painful memories. I wasn’t wondering where I had gone wrong or why someone I loved had chosen someone else.

I was simply laughing. And maybe that was why I forgot to be careful.

The splashing between us became more reckless, turning into a childish competition neither of us was willing to lose. She laughed every time I tried to get revenge, and somehow that only encouraged me more.

When she moved back to escape another splash, I reached for her wrist.

Before she could react, I gently pulled her toward me, turning her around in one smooth motion.

She stopped. So did I. The laughter faded into silence.

Her breath caught slightly, and her eyes lifted to mine, suddenly searching, suddenly aware of the distance between us.

A wet strand of hair had fallen across her face. Without thinking, I reached up and brushed it away.

My fingers lingered for a second longer than they should have.

“So…” I murmured, unable to stop the teasing smile forming on my lips. “Are you finding the shrimp attractive now?”

For a moment, she just stared at me. Then my hand settled instinctively at her waist, steadying her in the water.

Her lips parted slightly. Her eyes closed for the briefest moment, like she was fighting a thought she didn’t want to have.

I leaned closer. Not enough to cross a line. Just enough to see if she would let me.

But before I could find out, she pushed me back lightly. “Shut up,” she whispered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice.

Then she looked away. “You’re too young for me.” The words should have felt like rejection.

Strangely, they didn’t. Because the way she said them sounded less like she was trying to push me away and more like she was reminding herself why she should.

She stepped out of the lake, leaving small ripples behind her. I followed, grabbing my jacket from where she had thrown it earlier.

She stood there quietly, looking at me like she was having an argument with herself. Like some part of her wanted to stay and another part was reminding her not to.

I didn’t say anything.

I just stepped closer and gently moved her damp hair away from her face before placing my jacket over her shoulders.

For once, she didn’t make a sarcastic comment. She simply held the jacket closer, her fingers curling around the fabric. “Walk me to a hotel?” she asked softly.

She still wasn’t looking at me. I smiled. “Yeah.” As we walked, I reached out and took her heels from her hands again.

Our fingers brushed during the exchange. This time, neither of us immediately pulled away. She looked at me, and a small smile appeared on her face.

I grinned back, running a hand through my wet hair. A few droplets landed on her. “Hey,” she complained, stepping away slightly. But the tiny laugh that escaped her ruined the attempt at sounding annoyed.

And even then, before I knew what this night would become, before I knew how deeply she would find her way into my life, I felt it.

Something had already changed. I was already in trouble.

“So…” I said after a while, trying to sound casual. “How did you end up here anyway?”

She looked at me. “In this city,” I continued. “Without a place to stay.”

Her expression changed slightly. Not dramatically. Not in a way that asked for pity. She simply looked ahead, thinking about where to begin.

And when she finally spoke, she didn’t tell her story like someone who wanted sympathy. She told it like someone who had already survived it.

Like someone who had learned to carry painful memories without letting them define every breath she took.

I listened, really listened. And somewhere between her words and the way she casually brushed off things that would have broken most people, I understood something.

Rhea wasn’t fragile. I had mistaken her quietness for weakness. But she was strong in a way I had rarely seen.

Not the kind of strength that announces itself. Not the kind that needs to prove anything.

The kind that comes from surviving things nobody knows about and still finding a reason to smile afterward.

The kind that doesn’t demand attention. It simply endures. Before I even realized what I was doing, my hand reached for hers.

She looked down at our joined hands. For a second, I wondered if she would pull away.

But she didn’t. Her fingers slowly curled around mine, fitting there so naturally that it almost scared me.

Like we had known each other longer than a few hours. Like some parts of us had recognized each other before we had the chance to understand why.

We talked about everything that night. Not the kind of things people usually share with strangers.

The real things. The parts of ourselves we usually hide because they make us feel too exposed.

We talked about our lives, our mistakes, the things we regretted, and the things we pretended didn’t hurt anymore. Somehow, with Rhea, the conversation never felt forced. There were no awkward pauses, no pressure to fill the silence.

It felt natural. Almost too natural. Like two people who had known each other for years were simply catching up after being apart.

And before I realized it, we were standing outside a hotel. A part of me wanted to stay there a little longer.

To keep walking. Anything except admitting that this night had to end. Slowly, I let go of her hand, forcing myself to take a step back.

I gave her a small smile and lifted my hand in a quiet goodbye. It shouldn’t have felt that heavy.

It was ridiculous, honestly. I had known her for only a few hours. Yet somehow, it felt like I was walking away from something I hadn’t even gotten the chance to understand.

Rhea slipped my jacket off her shoulders and held it out to me. “Thank you,” she said softly.

I frowned, taking it from her. “For what?” She looked at me for a moment. Not with the sharpness she had shown earlier.

Not with the teasing confidence. Just with something softer. “For everything.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek. Then she turned around and walked inside.

And I swear, for a few seconds, my brain completely stopped working.

I stood there staring at the hotel entrance, trying to understand why such a small gesture had affected me so much.

When I finally breathed out, my lungs felt strangely tight.

I ran a hand through my hair and started walking around the block, searching for a taxi. My friends had dropped me there earlier, and I had no intention of bothering them again.

I had just opened the cab door when I heard my name.

“YUVAAN!

I turned instantly.

Rhea was running toward me, her breathing uneven, her hair slightly messy, and panic written all over her f

For a second, I thought something had happened. Then she stopped in front of me.

“I can’t afford this five-star hotel,” she admitted. She looked almost embarrassed saying it.

And then, despite everything, she pouted. I stared at her. This woman had spent the entire night acting like she needed nobody.

Like she could handle everything alone. And now she was standing in front of me, worried about a hotel bill.

Then I remembered what she had told me earlier. The reason she had left. The way her own mother had made her feel like a burden. How she had been blamed for things that were never her fault.

How her boyfriend had turned the person who should have protected her into someone who made her feel unwanted.

How instead of being loved, she had been made to believe that her existence was something wrong.

My chest tightened. I didn’t know Rhea well enough to understand everything she had been through.

But I knew one thing. Nobody deserved to feel like they were a mistake.

“I live alone,” I said gently before I could overthink it. “If you want, you can stay at my place tonight.”

Her eyes lifted to mine. For the first time that night, she looked surprised.

I placed my jacket around her shoulders again, the movement almost instinctive.

Her gaze dropped to my hand resting there. Something in her expression softened.

And when she leaned slightly into my touch, I realized I had been holding on a little tighter than necessary.

“I’ll give you money,” she whispered. I laughed quietly. “Oh, come on.”

I nudged her lightly toward the car. She immediately kicked my leg in protest. I laughed harder as I opened the door and she climbed inside.

And somehow, somewhere between her annoyed expressions and my laughter, I forgot about everything else.

I forgot about Nandini. I forgot about the humiliation. I forgot about the reason I had gone to that bar in the first place.

I was just happy being with her for a few hours. And that scared me. Because there was no reason for it.

Rhea tied her hair into a loose bun as we drove, rolling her eyes at my teasing, but the cab ride was anything but quiet.

We talked about meaningless things. Random things. Things that didn’t matter. And somehow, they mattered more than anything else that night.

We laughed too loudly. We argued over the smallest things.

She hit my arm every time I annoyed her, and I let her because, strangely enough, it felt like her way of staying close.

Her smile was dangerous. Not because it was perfect. Because it was real. It found its way into places inside me that had never been touched for a long time.

And somewhere during that ride, I realized I wanted to kiss her. The thought came so naturally that it scared me.

Because wanting someone was easy. But wanting someone after you had promised yourself you wouldn’t let anyone matter again?

That was different. When we reached home, I paid the driver and guided her inside.

I checked the time. 11 PM. Only three hours had passed since I met her.

But standing there, watching her look around my apartment like she was seeing a completely different world, it didn’t feel like two hours.

Like somehow, in the shortest amount of time possible… Rhea Mehra had become someone I didn’t want to lose.

“I have my ex-girlfriend’s clothes if you want them,” I offered, holding up the keys.

“No thanks.”

I frowned. “Why? Your clothes are soaked.”

She looked down at herself, then tugged lightly at the jacket around her shoulders. “Yes, but…” The hesitation in her voice made me pause.

“You know how I am.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

She sighed, looking away with embarrassment. “Oh, come on, Yuvaan. I’m a big girl. Her clothes probably won’t fit me. Don’t make me say it out loud.”

Something about the way she said it bothered me. Not because of what she said. Because of how easily she had accepted that she was someone who needed to apologize for existing.

“That’s the kitchen, right?” she asked quickly, changing the subject.

I nodded, letting her avoid the conversation for now. I went to my room to change, and when I came back, she was standing near the counter, drinking water quietly.

For someone who had spent the entire night pretending she needed nobody, she looked strangely small in that moment.

I placed the clothes in her hands.

“That’s my room,” I said, pointing down the hallway. “That’s my brother’s. Use whichever one you’re comfortable with.”

She held the clothes against herself and nodded. She turned to leave. But something stopped me.

I reached out and caught her hand. “Rhea.” She looked back.

And suddenly, all the teasing disappeared. “I think you’re beautiful.” Her expression changed instantly.

“Don’t do that,” she whispered. “Don’t say things just because you feel bad for me.”

My eyebrows pulled together. “I’m not.” I stepped closer, but slowly, giving her enough space to walk away if she wanted to

“I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for you.” Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to figure out if I meant it.

“I genuinely think you’re beautiful.” I smiled softly. “Not just because of the way you look. Although, yes, you are beautiful. But that’s not the reason I can’t stop looking at you.”

She stayed quiet. “It’s the way you laugh when you forget to be guarded. The way you pretend things don’t hurt you even when they do. The way you still manage to be kind after everything you’ve been through.”

Her expression softened. “The number on a scale doesn’t decide your worth, Rhea.”

For a moment she says nothing. She looks at me as if nobody has ever said those words to her before, as if no one has ever made her feel enough.

Before I can say more, she closes the distance between us and her lips meet mine unexpectedly.

Her kiss catches me off guard, not because I didn’t want it, but because I finally understand how much I’ve wanted to know what it feels like to have her right against me.

I hold her like something fragile, careful not to break whatever this is. When she pulls back, she looks as surprised as I feel. Her eyes gets filled with tears.

“Rhea…” I softly called her, trying to grab her hand.

She shakes her head slightly, as if trying to make sense of herself. I manage a small smile and step back.

“It’s okay..we are adults.” I turn to give her the space she seems to need.

But her hand finds mine. I look over. She says nothing, there’s no need. The look in her eyes says everything.

For the first time tonight I understand something clear and terrible and beautiful, Rhea isn’t asking to be rescued. She’s asking for someone to remind her she’s worth saving. And, against all my better sense, I want to be that person.

“Take me to the room, or my legs might give out,” she whispers, closing in and looping her hands at my waist. Her eyes lock on mine with an intensity that makes my chest tighten.

I kissed her again, harder this time, with more passion as I wrapped her arms around my shoulders and then I lifted her with ease. She breaks the kiss, staring at me surprised.

“I weigh like eighty kilos,” she murmurs, amused.

“More to hold on to, then,” I blurt before I can think.

She flushes, really flushes, and comes at me with another kiss. God, she’s gorgeous.

I respond without thinking, putting one hand at her waist, pulling her flush to me, returning the kiss with the same urgent hunger as I take her to my bedroom. Her lips are soft and demanding, when she parts from me with a shaky sound, the air between us hums.

“Do you want me to get a condom?” I manage, voice low.

She smiles laying on the mattress and tugs my face by the nape of my neck. “Don’t worry about it,” she murmurs, brushing my mouth with hers. The softness of that touch, the way she draws me in, makes everything else fall away. She slips my shirt over my head, and for a second I’m dizzy, caught in the motion of her, the deliberate flare in her eyes when her fingers brush the pendant at my chest.

She grabs the chain and yanks me down into a rougher kiss, then shoves me and flips us with more force than I expect. I end up on my back, watching her undo her hair, it tumbles free, dark and messy around her shoulders. She pulls her dress off in one smooth movement, and something tightens in my throat.

I reach for her hands at her waist drawing her down until she straddles me again. My fingers fumble the clasp of her bra and it falls away. Seeing her like this, exposed and fierce, knocks the air from me.

I pull her into me, mouth finding hers with a harsh, desperate need. My hands travel over her, possessive and clumsy, and the room narrows to the press of skin and the heat of our breath.

I stop before anything more can be said aloud, the moment hangs, heavy and absolute. We both know what comes next without speaking it, so I let the world go dark around the edges and hold her until the rest of the night swallows us.

“Pants off,” I mutter against her mouth, half demand, half plea.

She helps me, sliding my trousers down and off, and the sudden cool air feels like a shock compared with the heat between us. I flip us again, needing the sharpness of control, and lower my head to her chest.

I mouth at the first curve, tracing it slowly, feeling her gasp, an involuntary sound that scrapes at me. Her head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as her body opens to whatever I’m doing. When I move to the other side, the rhythm of her breathing becomes ragged, testing me.

A small, deliberate nip draws a cry from her, I soothe it with careful, possessive attention until her breath steadies into broken, hungry gasps. Each response from her is a pull, a small rush that settles deeper into me. I hadn’t known what addiction was until this.

When I finally pull back, both of us are heaving. My hand finds the hem of her underwear. I peel it away with slow, deliberate fingers, tasting the small thrill of stripping away the last barrier between us. She asks, voice thin and urgent, “turn the lights off.”

“Shut up,” I tell her softly, not unkindly, and part her knees again. I plant kisses along the inside of her thigh, higher and higher, until her muscles tremble under my mouth. I press my attention where it makes her lose herself, gentle, insistent, searching.

She responds with noises that fray into something raw and unguarded. Her hands find my hair, fingers digging in as if to anchor herself, and her legs wind around me with a grip that says she isn’t letting go. I move with deliberate care, matching the pace she needs.

Between breaths I steal a look at her, flushed, wide-eyed, dangerous in the way she gives herself.

For a second a cold panic flashes through me, what if I’m not able to perform well, what if I can’t give her what others did?

“What?” she asks, catching the hesitation in my face. She wraps a hand around the chain at my throat and tugs me closer.

“N—nothing,” I whisper, suddenly shy in a way that feels ridiculous for a man my size.

Her eyes soften, curious. “Is it your first time?” she asks quietly.

“No,” I lie, the word comes out too quick, too sharp.

She studies me for a beat, then she gently shoves at my shoulder and guides me back onto the bed. This time she settles into my lap with care, her weight deliberate and warm. “I hope I’m not crushing you,” she murmurs against my lips.

“I’d love it if you did,” I admit, dizzy with how much she affects me, how much my lips felt desperate without hers.

She kisses me slowly, a soft, measured press of lips that makes my chest ache. When she pulls back, just enough to breathe, she reaches between us with a steady, confident touch that tightens something in me. I bite back a sound, palms clenching the sheets as the room narrows.

“God–” The word escaped her lips.

She keeps her eyes on mine as she shifts her hips to find a rhythm. When she closes her eyes and releases a small sound, I feel every muscle in me go taut. I anchor my hands at her hips and slide them up, cupping her as if I need the weight of her to make sense of everything.

“That’s not my name, wildcat,” I murmur against her throat, and she answers with a breath that trembles between laugh and moan. Her hands roam, but I gently take them and replace them with kisses, soft, possessive, trying to tell her without words that she’s held.

I move with her, careful and present, focusing on the small things, the way her breath hitches, the tiny arch of her back, the heat of her skin under my mouth. Doubts spike, what if I’m not what she needs? but they fade as she grips me, as our breaths sync and the world outside the bed blurs.

When everything finally rushes and then softens, we collapse together, her face buried against my neck, my hand splayed over the curve of her hip, both of us spent and quiet. I smooth her hair and ask, in the small, clumsy language we’ve been using all night, “Thik ho?” (You okay?)

She nods into my skin.

I press a lingering kiss to her forehead, then ease us into a gentler position so she can breathe easier. We lie tangled and warm, and for once the questions that spun through me are quieted by the simple fact of her beside me.

I pressed her down against the mattress and eased her legs apart, steadier now that I’d seen how she fell apart for me. I maintained my contact with her, watched as she closed her eyes and dipped her head into the pillow as I entered her slowly. She was warm and slick enough.

I moved slowly at first, finding a pace that made her eyes flutter halfway closed. I watched her face for any sign of pain, she met my gaze and gave a small, sure nod, permission without words.

I bowed my head and kissed the sensitive spot at the curve of her breast, sucking and licking until another soft sound escaped her. The rhythm built quietly, each shift and roll pulling a new breath from her. Her voice, soft, broken, ultimately surrendered, became everything I could hear. For a while the whole world shrank to that intimate, fragile place between us where nothing else mattered.

Afterward, I held her without even thinking. My arms wrapped around her instinctively, pulling her closer as if my body had already decided that protecting her was the most natural thing in the world.

She fell asleep almost immediately. Like she had finally allowed herself to stop fighting.

Like her body had been waiting for someone to tell it that, just for one night, it was safe to rest.

I pulled the comforter over us and held her a little tighter, careful but unable to stop myself from feeling protective.

She looked different when she was asleep. The sharpness disappeared. The walls disappeared. There was no guarded woman who had told me not to get attached.

There was just Rhea. The woman who had laughed with me by the lake, who had teased me, who had looked at me like I wasn’t just some spoiled Oberoi boy but someone she could actually see.

I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

My fingers traced the side of her face slowly, memorizing the little details I didn’t want to forget

The curve of her cheek. The way her hair fell across the pillow.

The small pout that appeared even in her sleep. A helpless smile crossed my face.

I didn’t even realize how attached I had become.

Not after one night. Not after a few hours. But somehow, she had slipped past every defense I had built after Nandini.

I reached for my phone on the side table and pulled her closer.

The picture captured exactly what I was feeling in that moment. Her head resting against my neck. Her body curled into mine. Like she belonged there.

I stared at the screen for longer than I should have. And without even realizing it, I made a wish.

A desperate, silent prayer. Take everything else from me. Just don’t take her. Please. Please don’t let her go

The memory didn’t disappear gently.

It tore through me. One second I was there, remembering the warmth of her beside me.

Next, I was back in that hall. Back in front of the woman who had once been my entire world.

My body moved before my mind could catch up. I stood up so quickly that the chair behind me scraped against the floor.

My hands were shaking. I tried to hide it, wiping my face with the back of my palm, trying to collect myself, trying to pretend I wasn’t falling apart in front of everyone.

But I was. My throat burned. My eyes stung. The pressure in my chest felt unbearable. And still, I refused to cry.

Not in front of her. Not yet.

“Was any of it real?”

The question left my mouth quieter than I expected. Broken. Almost unrecognizable.

It wasn’t anger. Not completely. It was pain. The kind that came from realizing the person you trusted most had been living beside you while hiding an entire truth.

“I loved you, Rhea.” My voice cracked. But I continued. “I loved you.”

I looked at her, searching for even a small sign that the woman I knew was still there. “I fought with everyone for you. For us.”

My chest tightened. “For our baby…” The word barely left my mouth before her expression changed.

Her head lifted. And then came the sentence that destroyed whatever hope I was still holding onto.

“There is no baby!” Rhea’s scream cut through the room. The tears running down her face didn’t make it easier.

If anything, they made it worse. Because I didn’t know what I was looking at anymore. The woman who was crying.

Or the woman who had lied. “I can never have children,” she said, her voice shaking. “I used it…” She swallowed. “…just to get into your family.”

For a moment, I couldn’t process it. The world didn’t stop. Nobody disappeared. There was no dramatic moment where everything changed.

It was worse than that. Everything around me continued moving while something inside me completely collapsed.

I couldn’t feel my hands. I couldn’t feel my feet. I could barely hear anything except the echo of her words.

No baby. A lie. Used me.

Every memory came rushing back. The nights she held me. Thepromises she whispered.

The way she looked at me like I was the only person who mattered.

The way I believed her. My knees almost gave out. Because the cruelest part wasn’t that she had lied.

It was that I had loved her so completely that even now…even after everything…A part of me was still searching for a reason not to hate her.

That was the part that hurt the most. Because even after everything she had confessed, even after she had admitted that our entire relationship had been built on something false, there was still a small, broken part of me that remembered the woman I had loved.

The woman who had fallen asleep in my arms. The woman who had made me believe I was her home.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t shout. I didn’t even ask why. I just stood there, completely hollow, staring at the woman who had rewritten my entire life with a lie.

Then Bhai’s voice cut through the silence. “That’s not true.” He moved closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

I didn’t lean into him. I couldn’t. But I didn’t pull away either. Because right now, I wasn’t sure my own body knew how to keep me standing.

“You are pregnant, Rhea.” His eyes never left hers. There was no anger in his expression.

Just certainty. Like he already knew the truth, even if she was still trying to run from it.

Rhea shook her head immediately. “No.” Her voice grew louder, almost desperate. “I’m not.” She looked between us, searching for someone to believe her.

“I told you. I can never be pregnant.” Her breath trembled. “My mother tried to kill me when I was still in her womb. I’m not capable of having children.”

The last words broke somewhere between her lips. For a moment, I saw the pain in her face. The old pain.

The pain she had carried long before she ever met me. But I couldn’t let myself reach for it.

Not anymore. Not after everything.

“I confirmed it before the marriage.” Bhai’s voice was quiet, but every word carried the weight of something final.

“You are pregnant, Rhea.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. “You’re carrying the child of the man you shattered.”

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The entire hall felt frozen. But inside me, everything was collapsing.

I could hear my heartbeat everywhere. In my ears. In my chest. Each beat felt painful, like my body itself was struggling to understand something my mind already had.

She was pregnant. She had manipulated me. She had taken the love I gave her and used it as a weapon.

My chest tightened until every breath felt like effort. The memories came rushing back. Every promise. Every whispered confession.

Every time she held onto me like I was the only person in the world who mattered. Every time she looked into my eyes and made me believe I was her future.

All of it collided with the truth. I looked at her. Really looked at her. And for the first time, I couldn’t see the woman I had fallen for.

I couldn’t see the girl from the music room. The woman who laughed with me. The woman who curled into my arms like she belonged there.

That person felt like a memory now. A beautiful one. But a memory. The woman standing in front of me was someone I didn’t recognize.

Someone who had worn my love, my trust, and my dreams like they belonged to her. The truth finally settled inside me.

She didn’t just lie to me. She didn’t just break my heart. She destroyed everything we could have been.

And the worst part? She still wasn’t brave enough to admit it.

The world didn’t tilt. It didn’t shake. There was no warning before everything fell apart.

It simply collapsed. And I was standing in the middle of the ruins.

Author’s Note

Hello, my loves! ❤️

I’m excited to announce that “Melody of Sin” is my new novella. This story will be a shorter read, approximately around 25k words, divided into multiple chapters.

The chapters will initially be available as paid chapters, and after some time, they will be made free for everyone to read.

I hope you enjoy this little journey with me and give Melody of Sin the same love and support you’ve always shown my stories. Thank you for being a part of my writing journey. ❤️

Happy reading! ✨