Rohit went straight back to his room.
He switched on all the lights, then headed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.
As he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a young man—and it reminded him of his revenge.
That's when he lost it.
He gripped the sink and screamed.
"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"
In a burst of frustration, he ripped off his T-shirt and hurled it into the corner.
Looking down, he muttered to himself,
"How could I be so stupid?"
"How did I lose such a chance?"
"Why the hell did I do that?"
Deep down, he knew the truth. Something about all this just didn't feel right. Yes, he had planned it—he used the treatment as an excuse to get closer to her.
He wanted to charm her, to win her over. But things had spiraled emotionally, and now it felt all wrong.
She wasn't the type of human he anticipated. She was righteous, kind and devoted. What he mistook as fake pride turned out to be the genuine self esteem. Her confession of feelings and tears put a knot on his heart and at that time he felt himself with disgust.
He couldn't stand the idea of being seen as disgusting.
Revenge or not, this wasn't his way. He could be many things—a gangster, a thug, even a scum—but he was not someone who used intimacy to wound the innocent. His heart screamed, 'Not like this, not without her full consent.'
The old scars burned: the false molestation accusation that ruined his first life, forced him out of college, into the streets. He wouldn't repeat that cycle.
He splashed more cold water, ran wet fingers through his black hair, trying to steady himself.
Maybe it was time to change the approach. He wanted her body, yes—but more than that, he wanted her to choose him. To want him back. To feel something real.
His breathing finally slowed.
Then came the soft knock, followed by a familiar voice—'only this time, it had a sweet tone.'
"Rohit? Are you inside, honey?"
His ears perked up. It was his mother, Ragini. He could vaguely sense her intent from the way she spoke.
He took the towel hanging nearby and opened the door, rubbing his hair as he dropped the towel.
She stood in the doorway wearing a thin night robe, loosely tied at the waist. The fabric clung to her curves; her full breasts pushed against the neckline, threatening to spill free. A seductive little smile played on her lips.
The sight hit him like a punch. His cock hardened instantly, tenting his pants.
However, he quickly bent down to somehow fix the tent in his pants. Grabbing a towel from below, he began rubbing his ears as he asked, "Mom… why are you here right now?"
It was a failed attempt, but he didn't bother. It wasn't as if he had any other options.
She peeked at the obvious bulge and gave a small, knowing smile.
Her expressions unbothered as she stepped inside softly and placed her hands on his bare chest.
"We still need to continue the treatment, honey," she said quietly. "Don't carry all that weight. This time… it'll be different."
She leaned in haste and kissed him on the lips.
This time, his towel slipped, and he didn't hold himself back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.
He continued kissing her. It was slow at first, then deeper. His lips sucked gently on hers; his tongue slipped inside, tasting her.
Ragini froze for half a second, surprised, then melted. She had only intended to kiss him on the cheek, but due to his slight movement, it landed on his lips. Still, the mistake felt like a blessing of pleasure.
Her hands rested on his chest as she was kissed passionately.
How long since anyone had kissed her like this? Held her like she was wanted?
Her hands pressed against his chest as she allowed him to do what he liked. The feeling was dangerously addictive.
She felt his hands slide down her back and cup her hips with a firm, deliberate squeeze. A jolt of heat rushed through her body,
She liked this feeling of being dominated, her lips parting as he sucked on them, his tongue slipping inside to meet hers, while his hands roamed freely over her body, claiming it without permission, as if he owned every inch of it. Her heartbeat quickened, and a jolt of electricity shot through her.
Before her mind could catch up, her body took over. Her hands wrapped around his back, pulling him closer, searching for the masculine warmth his body radiated.
She was so lost in the kiss that her nails dug into his back. She wanted to hold onto this feeling forever.
But her mind jolted back when she felt his hard bulge pressing against her belly.
Meanwhile, Rohit was completely lost. He forgot all his anger, frustration, and worries, leaving them for another time. Right now, he was completely lost in the moment, focused only on their kiss.
The more he pressed against her, the more Ragini's body responded. He could feel her warmth and the growing need between them.
His pants felt tight, like a prison, and though he longed to take things further, he held himself back—wanting to focus on giving her pleasure first.
Her lips were like soft dew, and he savored their sweetness. But he wanted more—he wanted to kiss every inch of her.
Slowly, his hands moved to the edges of her robe, gently unveiling her soft breasts and giving them a tender squeeze as he continued to explore her mouth.
After tasting her mouth, he leaned to kiss her soft cheeks and slid down to her neck.
But then, all of a sudden, he was pushed back.
He was shocked and saw Ragini in shame. He looked into her eyes, searching for answers, which she desperately avoided.
Ragini wrapped her robe tighter, her gaze fixed on the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I… I thought I could. But I can't. Not yet."
He exhaled slowly, nodding. No anger. No pressure.
"I understand," he said gently. "It's okay. Really."
She bit her lip, visibly frustrated with herself. But he stepped forward again, not to continue—but to reassure. He touched her shoulder gently, then tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.
"No, I'm sorry," he said with a small smile. "I shouldn't have let things go that far. You've done nothing wrong."
Her eyes softened, and she gave a faint smile in return.
They shared a brief embrace.
Then he gently pushed her back, gesturing toward the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my lady," he said, bending down to pick up the towel. As he turned away, he added, "I still need to dry off before I can sleep."
She remained in place, blocking his way. He wasn't sure how to react, so he simply gave her space, assuming she'd leave on her own.
But Ragini stood there, torn inside. It was her who had crossed the line, her who had lost control. Yet he took the blame and comforted her.
She felt as if she were standing at a crossroads. Once she took the road not taken, there would be no turning back. She still had the option to back off and reset everything as if nothing had happened—but wouldn't that defeat the very purpose of coming to him in the first place?
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Author's Note: Guys, please vote! I'm really glad about the views and all, but votes are important for the book's survival, especially in its early phase.