Avinash exhaled. “We never meant to—”
“I know,” Vivek interrupted. “That’s why I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to keep being who you are.”
Amit looked up, voice soft. “She’s… extraordinary.”
“She always was,” Vivek said. “Now she just gets to feel it again.”
There was a long silence. Not awkward. Just full.
Then Avinash offered a hand. Vivek took it.
Amit followed, smiling.
In that handshake, there was no shame.
No taboo.
Only truth.
Three men.
One woman.
One life finally being lived in its fullness.
And no one needing to hide from it anymore.
Chapter XXVI: Flame to Flame
Rhea opened the door wearing an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Her hair was loose, slightly messy, eyes lined with surprise and sleep.
“Vivek?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “Is everything okay?”
He didn’t answer right away.
He stepped in, gently closed the door behind him, and looked at her—not like he had before, but like he was really seeing her.
Not as someone to impress.
As someone he wanted to open to.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, voice low.
She nodded, motioning toward the couch. “Sit?”
He shook his head. “No. Just listen.”
She stood still, sensing something different in him—something heavier, more grounded.
“I haven’t been fair to you,” he said. “Not because I’ve lied. But because I’ve held myself back. I’ve been… performing. Trying to be good. Measured. Predictable. And I don’t want that anymore.”
She blinked. “What changed?”
His voice dropped. “Everything.”
He took a step closer, hand brushing the hem of her shirt. “I watched someone I care about let go of everything. Shame, history, roles. She… burned for the first time in her life. And it was the most honest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Rhea’s breath caught. “You’re talking about… her?”
He nodded.
“And now I want that too,” he whispered. “With you. If you’ll have all of me.”
She touched his chest. “Then stop talking.”
They moved through each other slowly, with a hunger that had waited too long.
She pulled his shirt off with fingers that trembled—not from fear, but from anticipation. His hands slipped under her t-shirt, palms finding the softness of her waist, her back, the underside of her breasts.
When they kissed, it was deep and quiet.
Not greedy.
Just true.
She backed toward the bedroom, dragging him with her, never breaking the kiss. Clothes peeled away in pieces, falling like petals around their feet.
In bed, she lay back, legs parting without fear. “Come here,” she whispered.
He hovered above her, his body brushing hers, every inch tingling with reverence. “I want to see you. Every part.”
“You already do.”
He entered her slowly, the stretch sweet, the heat immediate.
Her hands curled around his arms. Their hips moved together like they’d rehearsed this in dreams.
When she moaned his name, it didn’t sound like control.
It sounded like surrender.
He kissed her ankle. Her thigh. Her navel.
Her pulse.
And when she came—eyes open, mouth wide, fingers clutching the sheets—he followed, spilling into her with a growl that broke the stillness of the night.