A strange, heavy silence descended upon the back seat. Bhavesh and Sameer, who moments ago had been consumed by a brutish, feverish energy, had now collapsed into a deep, immediate sleep. Their slack bodies were sprawled across the seat, mouths agape, their ragged breathing mingling with the low hum of the engine.

The world behind Rati’s closed eyelids was beginning to crumble. The hypnosis of Arjun’s gaze, the strange intoxication that had held her suspended in time, was now dissolving. Like a body cooling after a raging fever, her consciousness was returning to the cold, hard ground of reality. She slowly opened her eyes. The pre-dawn light was faint, but her vision was now terrifyingly clear.

She took in the scene. Sameer and Bhavesh, unconscious. She looked down at her own body—disheveled, her gown pushed aside, her skin damp and marked. For a moment, a profound disconnect washed over her, as if she were looking at a stranger. Then, like a lightning strike, the memories of the past few hours crashed down—blurred, distorted, but undeniably real.

A tidal wave of shame, guilt, and a deep, searing humiliation swept through her. She shivered, but this was a tremor of the soul. Her hands, now shaking violently, fumbled to pull her clothes back into place, tugging her gown down in a futile attempt to cover the violation.

Arjun watched it all in the rear-view mirror. The goddess from moments ago, the one who held a strange dignity even in her brokenness, was gone. In her place was a frantic, ashamed woman, desperately trying to gather the shredded pieces of her honor. Arjun’s mind reeled. What he had seen, what he had felt—the silent communication in her eyes, her conscious, deliberate display—was it all just a mirage created by alcohol?

Suddenly, a sharp movement from the front seat. Rohan, who had been a statue until now, lurched forward. A choked sound escaped him as he frantically rolled down the window and thrust his head out into the night air. The car filled with the wretched sound of him being sick.

The grotesque interruption was a blessing. As Arjun’s attention naturally flickered to Rohan, Rati moved with a desperate urgency. She pulled her gown together, hiding the signs of disarray, smoothing her hair from her face. Her hands still trembled, but she was a whirlwind of frantic motion.

Arjun kept the car moving, perhaps to shield Rohan from the scene behind him, or perhaps to grant Rati this small moment of privacy. When he looked back, the scene had transformed. Rohan, having finished, wiped his face and slumped back into his seat, breathing heavily. He looked back with tired, bloodshot eyes.

Sameer and Bhavesh were still asleep. Rati was turned towards the window, her gown arranged around her, her face a mask of stone as she stared out into the darkness.

“Everyone… asleep?” Rohan asked, his voice low and faltering, as if he couldn’t recall who was even in the car.

Rati didn’t move. She didn’t answer.

“Yes… I think so,” Arjun said softly, his voice strained.

“Hmm… I drank too much,” Rohan mumbled, holding his head. “Don’t know when I passed out… Woke up when I had to vomit. How far are we?”

Something shattered inside Arjun. Rohan knew nothing. The man whose wife had just endured what she had, was completely, blissfully unaware. The emotionless stare Arjun had mistaken for consent, for perverted participation, was nothing more than a drunken stupor. And Rati…? Had she been just as lost? The silent praise he thought he’d seen in her eyes, the magnetic pull he’d felt—was it all a lie? A trick of the light and the liquor?

“We’re almost there,” Arjun heard himself say, his voice a mechanical drone.

Rati remained silent, a statue carved from ice. She seemed to have passed beyond the realm of normal emotion. Shame, fear, anger—they were all meaningless now. She was simply there, in a car with her oblivious husband and three friends—one who had watched her like no one else, and two who had touched her like an animal.

The car moved through the city night, wrapped in a suffocating silence. Unspoken words and unanswered questions hung in the air like a thick fog.

First, they reached Sameer’s house. Arjun stopped the car. “Wake him up,” Rohan said, his voice flat. It was Arjun who shook Sameer awake. He stumbled out, mumbled a goodbye, and disappeared.

The silence deepened.

Next was Bhavesh’s apartment. The same ritual. Arjun woke him. He too mumbled something and was gone.

Now, there were only three. The emptiness of the car was deafening. Rati stared out the window. Rohan closed his eyes, his fingers drumming a slow, erratic rhythm on the dashboard.

Finally, they arrived. Arjun pulled up to their block and killed the engine. The resulting silence was absolute.

No one moved.

After a long moment, Rohan opened his door. Rati mechanically opened hers. She didn’t look at either of them. Rohan got out and faced Arjun. His eyes were unreadable—a murky cocktail of exhaustion, intoxication, and something else. Something cold.

“You keep the car,” Rohan said, his tone devoid of warmth. “I’ll get it in the morning.”

“Okay,” Arjun managed. “Good night.”

Rohan didn’t reply. He turned and walked towards the building entrance. Rati followed wordlessly, a shadow trailing in his wake. The distance between them was only a few feet, but it felt like miles.

As they disappeared inside, Arjun finally released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He started the car. Rohan’s words echoed in his ears. There was no direct accusation, but the cold needle of suspicion had been planted. Rohan might not know what happened, but he suspected something. And his suspicion, Arjun felt with a sickening certainty, was focused on him. And on Rati.

He didn’t know why. All he knew was that the night was not over. This silence, this doubt, this unspoken guilt—it was only the beginning.