Raja’s fist worked, jaw locked.
Vivek’s ears went red.
Sanjay stroked like it hurt and like he needed it.
Puja crouched, elbows on her knees, tits hanging.
“Spend on your own stomachs. Not on me. Then we clean. Then we talk like people who still have bones.”
Raja broke first, a punched-out groan, striping his abs.
Vivek followed, messy, ashamed.
Sanjay last, eyes on hers, a quiet wrecked sound over his fist while her breasts hung a foot from his knuckles and she did not let him touch.
She stood. Clapped once.
“Bathroom. Now. You smell like a crime scene.”
The bathroom was too small and too honest.
Puja went first, water over bite marks, singing badly on purpose. When she came out she had a towel around her and another in her hand.
“One by one. Soap. Teeth. Don’t faint in my shower. If you fall I will laugh before I help.”
Raja went, wincing when heat hit raw skin. Vivek went and stared at himself in the mirror like the mirror had gossip. Sanjay went last. Puja leaned on the doorframe, watching him wash last night off his stomach.
“Talk, Bhaiya. You go quiet when you think too much.”
“I’m thinking about leaving this flat looking like nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened?” She snorted. “Your wrist still thinks it has a thread. Your friends can barely walk. I can still feel all three of you. We are going to eat. Then we are going out. Patna does not care about your feelings.”
He shut off the tap.
“Out where.”
“Visit. Walk. Food that is not eggs you burn. And we are meeting two people I know. You will behave.”
In the other room Raja called, “What people.”
“Later,” Puja said. “Clothes first. Jeans. T-shirts. Hair that does not say orgy.”
They dressed like men reassembling themselves. The flat in daylight looked ordinary again—sofa, kitchen slab, a dead RGB strip, the bed they did not remake.
Breakfast was in the kitchen.
Puja made tea. Sanjay fried eggs and did not burn them this time. Raja buttered toast and got butter on his wrist. Vivek cut fruit badly and was told he was banned from knives. They ate standing and sitting, plates on the counter, knees touching because the space was small.
Raja: “I thought I would feel like a king.”
Puja: “You feel like soup. That is more accurate.”
Vivek: “Do the two people know about last night.”
Puja poured tea.
“They know me. They do not know the full inventory. You will not give them the inventory. You will say hello. You will not stare. You will not say the word booking unless I say it first.”
Sanjay wrapped both hands around his mug.
“Names.”
“Sonam. Akriti.” Puja watched their faces change. “Yes. Those names. You saw them on my phone because I was messy and mean and showing off. Today you meet them as people in Patna, not as clips. If you look at them like last night, I will take you home myself.”
Raja set his toast down.
“They’re going to hate us.”
“They might. That is allowed.” She flicked Sanjay’s bare wrist. “Last Rakhi I tied a thread and we pretended the year would stay clean. It didn’t. Today you walk in a city with that on your conscience and you still use your manners. Eat. Then we go.”
