Chapter 4: Night Confessions and New Questions

I tried to get closer to Kabir, but his bad temper made him hard to approach.

He reminded me of the stray cats outside our building—hungry but proud, taking food only on their terms.

Strictly speaking, the one I bought was Aarav. Kabir was the freebie. I guessed his temper was so bad he couldn’t be sold and ended up as a bonus. Just like those extra soap bars you get when you buy a family pack. Not that I’m complaining.

I thought Kabir wouldn’t show up for bed-warming, but after my shower, there was one lying on each side of my bed.

I froze at the door—this was not the kind of surprise I was used to after a hot shower. My heart did a little somersault.

The whole bedroom was thick with a hot, masculine scent. It was a mix of sandalwood, sweat, and something wild—utterly intoxicating. My cheeks burned. I glanced away, cheeks burning, and pretended to check my phone as if a WhatsApp meme had just popped up.

Aarav smiled and waved at me. "Madam, come here."

His voice was gentle, but it pulled at me like a forgotten song. I almost floated towards the bed.

Just before I got into bed, I snapped out of it and stood at the bedside. "Once the bed’s warm, you two can go. Your bedroom is next door—I’ve made it up for you. There’s only one bed for now, so you’ll have to share. I’ll buy another one tomorrow." After all, I hadn’t expected to end up with two incubi.

I spoke in my 'hostel warden' voice—firm but fair. Rules are rules.

Aarav obediently got out of bed, paused, and asked, "Madam, don’t you want us to sleep with you?"

His face was so hopeful, I almost caved.

I tried out the warm bed. "No need. I’ll call you if I need you."

Aarav pulled the sulking Kabir away, glancing back at me with an unreadable expression. "Madam, is it because we didn’t do well enough?"

His tone was soft, but there was a trace of sadness. I wanted to reach out and hug him.

"No," I shook my head. "You’ve already done great."

The truth was, I just didn’t want to get used to too much comfort too quickly. Old habits die hard.

Cooking, washing dishes, warming the bed—just like the people online said. Isn’t this way better than a boyfriend who only ever annoys you?

I thought of my ex, who couldn’t even fry an egg without calling his mother for instructions. These incubi were in another league.

The quilt was full of their scent. That night, I dreamed of two barely dressed incubi, both in collars, tied to the bedpost—a scene that was way too steamy. I pulled the quilt up to my chin, heart racing, and muttered "Ram, Ram" under my breath before giggling into my pillow.

I woke up in the middle of the night, breathless, my face burning hotter than a dosa tawa. I couldn’t believe my own imagination.

I actually had a wet dream. In all my years, this was a first. I giggled into my pillow, embarrassed and delighted.

And the stars of my dream were the incubi I’d brought home. How embarrassing.

If my college friends heard about this, they’d never let me live it down. I’m just a pervert, even fantasising about my own incubi.

I sighed, hugging the pillow. Maybe this is what happens when you live alone too long.

Although customer service promised ultimate gentleness, it wasn’t supposed to be this intoxicating. In the middle of the night, I was so thirsty I had to get up for water.

The flat was quiet, the only sound the hum of the ceiling fan. I tiptoed past their room, careful not to wake them.

Passing by the guest room, I vaguely heard Kabir’s angry voice: "Aarav, she’s just playing with us."

His words stung a little. I paused, hidden in the shadows, suddenly unsure if I was raising incubi—or if they were raising questions in my heart I wasn’t ready to answer. I felt a pang of guilt, remembering how I used to hate being left out during antakshari at family weddings. Maybe Kabir felt the same. Maybe, in this strange new house, we were all just learning where we belonged.