The train pulled into Bhubaneswar just after dusk. The air was different — warmer, more humid, with a subtle pulse of city life beneath the quiet evening. Shreya stepped off the platform, her hand in Sagar’s, the other gripping the end of her pallu tightly.

She looked around. The station was crowded, but all she could feel was the echo of Pawan’s last words:

"Rajiv has friends there... and so do I."

Sagar was excited, already talking about their new government quarters near Unit 6. It was a well-built two-bedroom flat in a gated colony — clean, quiet, and safe. But Shreya noticed one thing immediately: the guest bedroom.

“We’ll make this the study room, maybe? Or your little office, since you want to apply for lectureship,” Sagar said, placing their bags down.

She nodded with a faint smile. But inside her mind, something stirred. A guest room again.

That night, while Sagar unpacked, she stood at the balcony, looking at the city lights. A gentle buzz from her phone broke the silence.

Unknown Number.

One message.

“Welcome to Bhubaneswar, bitiya. I’ll be seeing you soon. — R.”

Her heart raced. She looked back inside — Sagar was folding clothes, humming. So ordinary. So safe.

But her body remembered the danger. The taste of the forbidden. The ache for more.

***