!!Story Time!!
Radhika P.O.V
I followed Justin, my footsteps echoing faintly behind him as he walked out of the wedding hall and into the darkness that had slowly swallowed the evening. Night had fallen completely now—still, silent, almost suffocating in its quiet. There was no one around. Just me, the cold air, and the questions clawing at my chest.
"Stop right there, Justin," I called out, my voice low but burning with restrained fury. "I need to ask you something."
He halted mid-step—but he didn't turn around. He just stood there, his back to me, rigid like a stone statue in the dark. I walked up behind him, stopping a few feet away, the distance between us filled with words unspoken.
"Do you really have nothing to explain?" I asked, my voice faltering slightly. "Was all of it... really a lie?"
My voice cracked. My throat tightened. I couldn't say any more. The words refused to leave me, but the anger didn't. It flickered in my eyes, sharp and trembling.
He turned to face me slowly.
His eyes—bloodshot. His gaze met mine, intense, raw, and broken. He looked like someone who hadn't slept in days, someone who had been fighting a war within.
I tilted my head up to meet his stare. He was taller, and right now, he felt even more unreachable.
Then he took a slow step toward me.
His voice was hoarse, heavy with pain.
"You really think it was all a lie?" he asked. "If it was, why did you come looking for me?"
He paused, his eyes never leaving mine.
"If you truly believe I betrayed you… then do what you must. Take your revenge. Hit me, hate me—whatever you want."
He kept walking toward me, his voice rising with every step, but I didn't move. I just stood there, locked in his eyes, my heart pounding in my ears.
"I just want to know *why*," I said, my voice nearly a whisper.
He stopped.
There was a silence. And then…
"I loved you, Radhika," he said quietly—no theatrics, no performance. Just truth.
"I really did. You didn't see it?" His voice trembled now, his pain bleeding through every word. "Couldn't you see it in everything I did? Everything I was?"
"I never let anyone else close to me. Never. The day I first saw you, something in me shifted—and for months after, you haunted my thoughts. I told myself to stay away, to keep my distance, because I knew\... getting close to you would put your life at risk."
He swallowed hard, stepping even closer.
"I tried not to think about you. Tried to forget. But it was killing me, Radhika. Every single day."
There was a quiver in his voice, but his eyes held steady.
"And the day I got too close to you—" he paused, searching my face "—I knew I wouldn't be able to let go."
My chest tightened. My breath caught.
"Then why didn't you tell me about my brother?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "If none of it was a lie, if you knew\... then why?"
His expression shifted, clouded by something darker—guilt.
"At first," he said slowly, "I didn't know who he was. I didn't know he was your brother."
"We threatened each other. Fought. More than once. He tried to kill me, and I tried to do the same. It was war between us. But when I found out the truth... when I realized who he was to you... I wanted to stop. I wanted to fix everything."
He looked down for a moment, then back at me.
"But I couldn't. It was too late. It was never fully in my hands, Radhika. If I could have changed the past... I would've torn the whole thing apart just to give you a different present."
Absolutely. Here's the **continuation**—Radhika's **emotional reaction** to Justin's confession, filled with internal conflict, pain, and the fragile pull of love. It leads into a gentle, emotionally charged **kiss scene**, written in a **novel-style**, with a blend of restraint and release:
---
His words sank into me like slow-moving fire—consuming, confusing, comforting, and cruel, all at once.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hit him. But more than anything... I wanted to believe him.
My mind was at war with my heart.
He had fought my brother. He had lied by silence. He had hurt people I love.
But he had also loved me. And I had seen it—in the way he looked at me when I wasn't watching. In the way his voice softened when he said my name. In the way his world went still when I entered a room.
I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that could stop the shaking.
"Do you have any idea," I whispered, barely able to speak, "what it did to me—thinking everything between us was a lie?"
He didn't respond. He just looked at me with those aching, guilty eyes, as if saying sorry would never be enough.
"And yet," I said, stepping closer, "here I am. Still standing in front of you. Still asking *why*, when I should've walked away long ago."
He flinched, but said nothing.
"Because no matter how hard I try," my voice cracked, "I can't unlove you, Justin."
I hated that truth. I hated how honest it was. I hated how my body betrayed me every time he was near.
But I couldn't deny it.
"I wish I could," I breathed, the tears finally rising, "I wish I could hate you. I *want* to hate you."
He stepped forward.
"But I can't."
And just like that, my strength broke.
He reached out slowly, carefully, like I was something fragile that could shatter with the wrong touch. His hand gently cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing the tear that escaped down my cheek.
I should've stepped back. I should've stopped this.
But I didn't.
Because in that moment, I remembered everything.
The warmth of his arms. The nights we talked till sunrise. The way his eyes lit up when he laughed. The promises he made with silence, not words.
And just like that... I closed the space between us.
His lips met mine—soft, trembling, searching.
It wasn't desperate. It wasn't perfect.
It was broken, aching, full of questions still unanswered. But it was real.
I kissed him like I wanted to forget everything he'd done. And he kissed me like he wanted to earn the right to start again.
When we pulled apart, my forehead rested against his, our breaths mingling, shaky and uncertain.
"This changes nothing," I whispered, my eyes still closed.
"I know," he murmured. "But maybe... it changes something."
---
**Gulafsha's Point of View**
I stretched languidly and opened my eyes. Dev lay beside me, still fast asleep. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the soft morning light pouring in through the window shimmered on the love bites scattered across his fair yet dusky chest. The bruises stood out vividly, like wildflowers blooming after a storm.
As for me—I wasn't wearing anything either. I had no idea in which corner of the room my clothes had landed. Dev's arm was tucked beneath my head, and I'd fallen asleep with my cheek resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
His hair was a mess, tousled in every direction.
A dull ache throbbed between my thighs and in my lower abdomen. It had been my first time, and last night had been... overwhelming. I don't even know how many rounds we went through—but everything, every moment, had felt beautiful.
I noticed his other hand resting on my stomach. Gently, I moved it away, wrapping the sheet around myself, and stood up slowly. I walked toward the bathroom, each step reminding me of the soreness within.
Without making a sound, I pushed the door open and closed it behind me. I had brought a change of clothes with me. The cold water from the shower refreshed me, soothed me. I washed my hair and got dressed quietly. When I stepped out twenty minutes later, Dev was still asleep—and looked rather handsome even in slumber.
In a corner of the room, near the camera stand, lay a pile of wedding gifts—boxes, envelopes, and all. My eyes instinctively found the ones from my friends.
I walked over and sat cross-legged on the floor, picking through the pile, trying to decide which one to open first. My hand reached for Radhika's gift. I smiled slightly as I gently unwrapped it.
Exactly what I expected—chocolates from "that" time. As if I'd need chocolates to get in the mood for sex.
Rolling my eyes, I closed the box and reached for Akanksha's gift next. Honestly, these girls are such **characters**.
It was a red and black net nightie. Transparent. Useless. As if wearing this makes a difference—I'd rather just walk around without it altogether.
I had a feeling even Ishika's gift would be similar.
And I was right—condom boxes. Seeing them suddenly brought back a vague recollection from last night.
Dev hadn't used any... and to be honest, even I wasn't exactly in the right mind to notice.
That thought was still lingering in my mind when I suddenly heard a voice behind me.
"What are you looking at?"
I turned quickly. It was Dev's voice—sleepy, low, slightly hoarse. He had woken up and was now sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes.
The light fell perfectly on him—highlighting his toned abs, that lean muscular body. His skin had a warm, dusky glow, with scattered marks of last night still visible.
"Nothing... just looking at the gifts," I said with a casual shrug, subtly hiding the gift box behind me.
If he sees what's inside, and with me already sore from last night... God knows, he might just decide on a second round right now.
"What's in it? And whose gift is it?" he asked, yawning as he stretched.
**Dev's Point of View**
The faint morning chill crept through the half-open window, and the warmth of the soft skin resting against my chest began to fade as she shifted away. I stirred slightly, reluctant to wake, but my senses caught on to the rustle of movement—delicate, careful.
She was gone from my arms.
For a few seconds, I kept my eyes closed, letting the silence wrap around me. The memory of the night before came rushing back like a quiet storm—her trembling breath, her fingertips tracing my skin, the way she whispered my name in the dark.
My body ached in that pleasant, satisfied way, but there was an emptiness next to me on the bed now.
I blinked my eyes open and looked at the space where she'd been. The sheets were still warm. Her scent lingered—something soft, like rose and clove. I glanced down at my chest. A constellation of bite marks and bruises painted across my skin, glowing faintly in the dawn light.
Her first time.
Our first time.
And god, it had been... intense. Beautiful. Raw.
I sat up slowly, the cool air brushing against my bare back. My muscles were still heavy from the hours of passion we'd sunk into, the kind that blurred time. I ran a hand through my hair—disheveled and damp at the edges from sleep—and stretched my arms out, releasing a quiet yawn.
My eyes scanned the room. The chaos of the night was still present—her earrings on the floor, my buttons scattered like afterthoughts. One of her bangles lay on the nightstand, bent slightly. I smiled.
Then I saw her—kneeling by the pile of wedding gifts like a curious child, wrapped in a soft robe. The light from the window kissed her wet hair, making it look like strands of midnight silk. She was flipping through the gifts one by one, trying not to laugh, but I knew her well enough to catch the corners of her lips twitching.
"What are you looking at?" I asked, my voice still coated with sleep, half amused, half possessive.
She turned quickly, startled but composed, and tried to hide the gift behind her back like a guilty teenager.
"Nothing," she said with that mischievous little smirk, "just looking at the gifts."
God, that smile.
I leaned back slightly, folding the sheet over my lap as I studied her. The curve of her shoulder, the slight flush still on her cheeks, the way her eyes darted between me and the box she didn't want me to see.
I arched an eyebrow.
"What's in it?" I asked, pretending to be casual. "Whose gift is that?"
I could see the hesitation in her eyes. She was worried. Probably something stupid or scandalous from her ridiculous gang of friends. If it's what I think it is…
I grinned to myself.
I was already tempted to get out of bed and tease her more, maybe pull her back to me, see that look of mock annoyance on her face turn into something else.
But then I noticed her movement—slow, careful, with a hand resting on her stomach. A flicker of guilt ran through me.
Was she hurting?
Too much?
Too soon?
Last night, I had tried to be gentle. Tried. But there were moments where we both got lost, where restraint vanished. I remembered her gasping, holding me tight, her voice breaking around my name. She hadn't stopped me—hadn't wanted me to—but still...
I softened my voice. "Are you okay?"
She paused for a second, then gave a small nod. But her eyes… they held a trace of ache, a fragile honesty she couldn't quite mask.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
I'd never been this drawn to someone. Not just physically—but emotionally. Deeply. As if I could see all her layers, and still want to drown in them.
This wasn't just the morning after.
It was the beginning of something.
And I wasn't going to let her carry even a hint of pain alone.
__________________________
Ishika P.O.V
I was tired—but not the kind of tired that lets you sleep.
Just the kind that leaves you *bored*.
Restless.
Staring at the ceiling and questioning every decision from the last twenty-four hours.
I had just returned from Garasiya's wedding.
It was lovely, honestly.
I couldn't help but wonder—has she opened her gifts yet? Or are they still sitting there, all wrapped and waiting, like unopened secrets?
She's going to love mine. I'm sure of it....
But as for me…
I didn't know what to do with myself.
Sleep simply refused to come.
Which is strange, really—because I've had two cups of coffee.
Though let's be honest, I could drink ten and still pass out within minutes.
But tonight?
Tonight, sleep decided to play hide and seek.
I blame Pushpanjali.
She jinxed it.
She's always teasing me about how I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime—like it's some magical power.
Well, not tonight.
And maybe it wasn't just the caffeine.
I did something.
I unblocked Sahil.
Everywhere.
It wasn't impulsive.
I thought it through. A lot.
In fact, I had even asked my Sahil to give me space—just a little time alone to think clearly.
And he did.
No messages, no interference. Just silence.
Strangely peaceful.
And in that silence… I thought.
About him.
About *us*.
And now… I think I've found something.
A kind of clarity.
Which is why tomorrow will be interesting.
Maybe that's what's keeping me awake.
The anticipation.
A part of me is excited—no, *thrilled*—to see their faces when they realize… I *know*.
Everything.
I want to see their reactions.
Their expressions.
Especially *his*.
What does guilt look like?
What does betrayal look like when it's caught in the act?
And more importantly…
Will he even realize that I saw right through it all?
Tomorrow holds answers.
But tonight?
Tonight, I just lie here—wide awake, wrapped in silence and half-smiles, waiting for the morning to arrive.
_______________________________
Thank you.....