3 ~ Midnight Hell - 21 #2
She gave my arm a small squeeze and left.
The moment she stepped out, I exhaled sharply.
"This is it," I whispered to myself.
I walked to the kitchen, my steps slower now. The tray was already prepared... four cups, neatly arranged, steam rising softly.
My fingers tightened around the tray as I picked it up.
My heartbeat was loud again. "Calm down, Chahat," I muttered. "You've done worse."
But it was a lie. This was worse.
Way worse.
I took a deep breath and walked toward the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last.
The moment I entered. My eyes stayed low, just like Mukti would. Just like everyone expected.
I was dying. Literally dying out of nervousness for the first time in my life.
Every step felt like I was walking toward my own funeral.
My hands were still trembling as my mother guided me toward the guests
From beneath the veil, I observed quietly.
The man sitting straight across must be the groom's father... calm, composed, authority written all over his posture.
Beside him sat an elderly woman.
Graceful and gentle.
His grandmother, I assumed.
Strangely...his mom wasn't here.
His grandmother rose gracefully as we approached, her eyes soft yet scrutinizing. She took my hand delicately. "Bohot sanskaari hai," she complimented, smiling warmly.
(She is very cultured.)
I rolled my eyes subtly, trying not to let my annoyance show. Sanskaari? Let's see how sanskaari I look under all this pressure.
Then my gaze shifted and everything inside me... stopped.
The tray almost slipped from my hands.
My breath hitched. My heartbeat vanished.
No.
It can't be...
But it was.
Kartik Singhaniya.
The owner of Midnight Hell.
He was sitting right in front of me.
He's the groom?
No... no, that's not possible.
I couldn't help but remember the incident happened almost a month ago.
Flashback.
I stared at the giant neon board glowing above me like a warning sign.
MIDNIGHT HELL - 21+ ONLY
My stomach dropped somewhere near my knees.
"This is a bad idea," I muttered. "Like... actually illegal-level bad."
Ishika rolled her eyes so hard I heard it. "Stop being dramatic and walk. You look hot. No one will even blink at your age."
"That's the problem," I whispered, gripping my tiny sling bag. "I am twenty. The board literally says twenty-one. I'm not entering a temple by mistake, Ishika... this is a club!"
"I told you, this is a bad idea," I muttered again, arms crossed, as my two best friends practically dragged me toward the entrance.
Ina scoffed dramatically, "You're twenty. Not twelve. Stop acting like the bouncer is your school principal."
"And," she added, linking her arm with mine, "no one checks IDs properly here. This is Mumbai, not your conservative town."
I sighed dramatically. "Still... it's illegal. And Papa..."
Ina groaned. "Chahat. For once in your life, stop being the good daughter. Let loose. Dance and breathe."
Her words hit me.
Because she was right, I was many things, but obedient wasn't one of them.
And honestly?
I wanted to go inside.
I wanted the music, the lights, the freedom that my mother kept shoving under "good girls don't..."
My other friend, Ina, leaned close to me. "Chahat, relax. No one even knows you're here."
I sighed, pressing a hand to my forehead. "Exactly," I muttered. "Kyunki unhe lagta hai main tumhare ghar group studies ke liye ruki hoon. Kitni mushkil se Papa se permission li thi night stay ki."
(Because they think I'm staying at your house for group studies. With great difficulty, I got permission from my father to stay overnight.)
My voice tightened.
Five years ago, when we shifted from Jaisalmer to Mumbai, my father had turned paranoid. New city. New people. New dangers.
He still treated me like the desert princess who needed to be guarded from dust storms, boys, and bad decisions. And here I was about to make all three.
I looked down at myself again.
The short maroon dress hugged me like a second skin, clinging to curves I pretended I didn't have. The hem ended mid-thigh, leaving my legs bare and glowing under the dim golden lights of the entryway.
I had worn short dresses before at college events, birthday dinners, even to the beach...but never like this.
Never in a place my parents didn't even imagine me going.
Never where I felt eyes could strip me before my thoughts even caught up.
My fingers curled around the long chain resting on my breasts. It swung lightly every time I breathed too hard... which was every two seconds.
I tugged the one sided off shoulder sleeve nervously, exposing my collarbone, my neck, my smooth skin that suddenly felt too visible.
I pushed my long curly hair behind my shoulder, exhaling shakily.
"What if they send us back?" I whispered.
Ishika snorted. "Then we'll go have ice cream and pretend we didn't dress like goddesses for nothing."
Easy for her to say.
"But Ishikaa!" I hissed, grabbing her arm. "What if they check my ID properly?"
"They won't," she said like she had summoned God, fate, and the club owner personally. "Chill. I've done all the arrangements."
I narrowed my eyes. "How?"
She scratched her cheek and muttered, "My boyfriend knows the owner."
"What?"
"Nothing. Let's go." She strutted ahead in confidence and I followed in fear.
The bass thumped through the walls. The dark glass doors reflected us like a movie poster for disaster.
The bouncer at the door was massive. Broad shoulders, crossed arms, expression like he had personally decided to be the last line of defense against underage fun.
Ishika flashed her bright smile at the bouncer.
"VIP table for four. Name - Ishika Singh."
He checked his tablet.
He checked Ishika's I'd and then Ina's and handed it
Then he asked for mine. I handed it over. My fingers were embarrassingly steady considering my heart was doing something that couldn't have been healthy.
He looked at the ID, then he looked at me, then back at the ID.
The silence lasted approximately one thousand years and then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. Something shifted in his expression... He immediately picked it up and nodded.
And then he stepped aside and waved all three of us through without a single word.
I walked in.
I didn't breathe until I was fully inside.
"See?" Ishika leaned close, grinning. "Told you."
"He looked at me for so long..."
"And then he let you in." She completed.
I started breathing only after the door shut behind me because for the first time in my life, worse than bunking lectures, worse than lying to my father, worse than sneaking out...this felt truly, dangerously illegal.
And my stupid heart wouldn't stop racing.
The moment I stepped inside the club, the world flipped.
Lights. Bass. Heat. People.
Everything hit me at once like a wave crashing after years of drought.
Ishika screamed first then Ina followed.
"OH MY GOD, WE'RE HERE!"
They jumped like idiots and I couldn't help smiling... a little.
Their excitement was contagious, but mine... mine was mixed with something tighter...nervousness and uneasiness like I had stepped into a fire I wasn't prepared for.
They ran straight to the bar and ordered drinks.
I didn't.
Not because I was some sanskaari princess... But I had tasted alcohol before once.
And it was disgusting.
If something wants to intoxicate me, it should at least taste nice. Otherwise, what is the point?
So I clutched my lemonade like it was holy water and gulped it down to calm my racing heartbeat.
That's when it happened.
A hand slid around my waist... firm, bold, uninvited.
I froze.
My entire body stiffened as if someone had poured ice down my spine. I turned my face, and a guy was smirking down at me.
"Hello, sweetheart."