𝟒𝟗: 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

                                    

                                          
Content Warning: 18 
Viewer discretion is advised.
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All the pictures are available here: @Astrophile389
Backdrop of Canvas and Crimson
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WC:6.6K

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
Timeline: 2017 (London) 2022 (India)
(Secret Room)
A SWEAT FORMS on my upper lip, the first sign of the tension tightening every muscle in my body as I stand at the centre of Tapish's desk, staring at the room as it has been for the past five minutes.
Which means I now have 35 minutes left to decide.
In these tense minutes, the room seems to close in around me, pushing me back and placing a heavy responsibility on me to think twice about my actions as I move towards the secret this room holds for me to discover.
As I advance, I notice on my right a black metal and rust-coloured marble wall that meets the ceiling, were subtle, beautiful crystal chandeliers dangle. Their soft yellow glow creates shadows that stretch across the glass table where I've placed my purse.
And yes, my phone is right behind me on the desk.
In the room's quiet melancholy, under the coolness of the air conditioning fan, the creamy sofas beneath them look inviting, as if they're begging me to sink into them, to sleep, to escape until Tapish comes and lifts me in his arms, where I'd wake up in his bed.
But there's no pleasure that can stop me.
Beyond the glass wall on my right, the shoreline stretches endlessly, with the Jashnpur buildings complementing the waves hitting against the shore.
I can almost picture Tapish waiting to hug me from behind so we can leave for his house, where we'd make love until sunrise as promised. But none of this brings me any pleasure that could stop me.
None of it matters. All I care about is what's here. It's now or never. Sahej, who never chased after answers from the shadows, is now standing before the very heart of the mystery. The door is open, the truth so close I can feel it, almost taste it on the edge of my breath.
As I reach the threshold, my feet hesitate, giving that last thought: Should I text Tapish and tell him what I've stumbled upon? Will he be angry with me? The thought of "angry" makes me glance down at the diamond ring on my finger and twirl it around.
It feels so wrong. A sin is too dramatic a word for my moral dilemma.
It's been 24 hours since I became his fiancée.