Chapter 4: Confessions and Ultimatums

I knew I couldn’t hide it anymore. My heart sank. It was time to confess, whatever the cost. Even if it meant losing Neha forever.

I told her everything, voice shaking as I recounted the story from the first misunderstanding—mistaking Ritu for Neha and kissing her. I left nothing out, shame burning in my cheeks.

Neha listened, eyes red, tears streaming down her face. She packed her things quietly, folding her clothes and stacking them in her old brown suitcase, moving almost mechanically. The quieter she got, the more scared I became.

She didn’t shout or make a scene—just packed in silence, her pride holding her together. Only after a few minutes did her sobs break through, her shoulders shaking as she finally broke down.

"It’s not all my fault. Ritu took the initiative. I didn’t expect her to..." I tried to defend myself, but even I knew how weak it sounded. I stared at the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

"Thappad." Another slap—her palm cracked across my cheek, but I barely flinched. Maybe I deserved it.

"And after it was over, she pretended to be you just to get away. Isn’t it obvious she set it all up…" I tried to explain, desperate for her to believe me.

"Thappad." Another slap, this one with her hand trembling from anger and betrayal. My face burned, but the ache in my chest was worse.

That last slap broke me. My voice cracked: "Kya yaar, you sisters are the same—both like slapping, is it?" I tried to joke, but it sounded hollow.

"I told you, she seduced me, pretended to be you, that’s why I slept with her. It’s not like I wanted to from the start. Tell me, where exactly was I wrong?" I pleaded, pride gone, tears stinging my eyes.

Neha said nothing, packing quietly. She was always calm when angry—never a big scene. The quieter she got, the more I realised how badly I’d hurt her.

I hugged her from behind. "Listen, I really am at fault. I apologise, but..." I buried my face in her hair, hoping for forgiveness.

"Let go. Disgusting." Her voice was dead, colder than an ice block from the kulfiwala’s cart. She didn’t look back at me, her tone as cold as frozen paneer.

She stared out the window, her shoulders set. I wanted to beg, but the words dried up. If I didn’t let go, she wouldn’t resist, but I knew—the longer I held her, the more her heart would die.

It struck me then—love can’t be forced, not even with all the apologies in the world. Slowly, I released her, feeling emptier than ever before.

I watched her pack up and leave. The sound of her footsteps faded down the corridor, each step echoing in my chest. It felt like I’d gone through Ritu’s whole routine again—déjà vu, like a bad TV serial.

Why did Ritu seduce me? Why set me up, even at the cost of her own dignity? Was it just to hurt Neha? Or did she want to steal me away?

I dialled Ritu’s number—still off. She never seemed to keep her phone on. I stabbed at the buttons, frustration boiling over.

Thinking back, Ritu is a strange woman—comes and goes as she pleases, never following any pattern. Could she really have fallen for me? We’d hardly spent time alone. The most intimate thing was that mistaken kiss—and even that was a total accident.

Just as I was puzzling over it, my phone buzzed—the screen lighting up with Ritu’s name. My heart jumped into my throat.

[So, jiju? Isn’t it exciting to have an affair?]

Her words made my skin crawl. Was she actually proud of what happened?

[Are you mad or what?] I typed furiously, anger and fear battling inside me.

[You slept with my sister, then with me. Isn’t that every man’s dream?] Her messages came fast, teasing and taunting. I wanted to throw my phone across the room.

[You’d better explain this to your sister.] I warned her, hoping she’d realise how serious this was.

[Fine, tomorrow morning at 8, at Central Park. Let’s talk face to face.]

I stared at the closed door, numb. Then my phone buzzed again—Ritu. The message ended the chapter: [So, jiju? Isn’t it exciting to have an affair?]