65. A drop at home

Don't ever overshare...

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Mahima swirled the rim of her tequila shot glass absentmindedly before knocking it back.

Her mind kept wandering to Rishi, who was now leaning casually against a nearby pillar, his sharp eyes scanning the room like a hawk.

As she poured herself another shot, a sudden realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

She set the glass down with a sharp clink and turned toward him. “Wait a minute…” she began, her voice tinged with both accusation and curiosity.

Rishi raised an eyebrow, his calm demeanor unshaken. “Something on your mind?”

Mahima crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re Max’s friend, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating his answer. “I wasn’t,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped, stepping closer. “I perfectly remember that day when I broke up with him. You were there, standing with his gang, weren’t you?”

Rishi sighed, his eyes briefly flickering with what looked like regret. “I was there,” he admitted, his tone measured. “But I wasn’t his friend.”

Mahima scoffed. “Oh, come on. You expect me to believe that? You were practically shoulder-to-shoulder with him. What were you doing there if you weren’t his friend?”

Rishi straightened up, meeting her gaze directly. “Max begged me to meet him that day. I didn’t know you or anything about your relationship. I was just there for one day because he insisted.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “And yet you stood there and did nothing while he made my life hell.”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his voice lowering. “I didn’t know the full story until after you left that day. But when I saw the way he behaved—especially after you broke up with him—I realized what kind of person he was. That’s why I’ve kept him away ever since.”

Mahima blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You… stopped being his friend?”

Rishi nodded. “I don’t associate with people who can’t respect others. After what I saw that day, I knew he wasn’t worth my time.”

She studied his face, searching for any sign of deceit, but found none. “So, you’re saying you only knew him for a day?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said firmly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for whatever part I played in making that day harder for you.”

Mahima didn’t know how to respond. Part of her wanted to stay angry, but another part of her couldn’t ignore the earnestness in his voice.

She sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Well… I guess it’s not your fault. But I hope you realize what kind of people you choose to associate with in the future.”

Rishi smirked slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I’ve already learned that lesson, trust me.”

Mahima felt a strange sense of ease. As much as she hated to admit it, Rishi’s presence was oddly comforting. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as she’d initially thought.

But she wanted to keep any sign of her ex, away in her life again.

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The girls stumbled into the house, laughing and chattering, their exhaustion masked by the lingering effects of the alcohol.

Rishi followed behind, ensuring they all made it safely inside. Ananya and Divya leaned heavily on each other, giggling about something no one else could understand,

while Ishika and Amrita plopped onto the couch, declaring their undying love for the cushions.

Mahima, however, was a different story. She was more than just drunk—she was completely out of it.

Her steps were unsteady, and she was muttering under her breath about something no one could quite decipher.

"Mahima, you okay?" Ananya asked, trying to steady her, but Mahima just waved her hand dismissively.

"I’m fiiiiine," Mahima slurred, her words dragging. "But the world... the world is not fine."

The girls exchanged amused looks before Ishika spoke up. "Rishi, can you drop her home? We’ll text you her address."

Rishi, who had been silently observing the chaos, nodded. "Yeah, I’ll take care of her."

Mahima protested weakly, “I don’t need a bodyguard,” but no one took her seriously.

With a quick exchange of details, Rishi helped Mahima into his car.

She leaned against the window, mumbling to herself about life, love, and everything in between.

By the time they reached her apartment, she was barely coherent.

Rishi parked and helped her out, guiding her carefully to the door. “Do you have your keys?” he asked.

Mahima fumbled with her bag, pulling out a set of keys with a triumphant grin. “Got ‘em!” she declared, only to drop them immediately.

Rishi shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He picked up the keys and unlocked the door, gently guiding her inside.

As soon as they stepped in, Mahima flopped onto the couch, throwing her arms out dramatically.

“I hate love,” she announced, her voice thick with drunken emotion.

Rishi raised an eyebrow, crouching down to her level. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because… because love is stupid,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “It makes you weak. It makes you trust people. And then... they break your heart.”

Her eyes grew glassy, and Rishi could see the pain behind her drunken rambling. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mahima, maybe you should—”

“And don’t even get me started on men,” she interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at him. “They’re the worst.”

He chuckled softly. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do!” she insisted, her voice wobbling. “Love is overrated. It’s just a trap. A big, stupid trap.”

Rishi sighed and gently helped her up. “Alright, that’s enough. Time for you to sleep.”

She didn’t protest as he guided her to her bedroom. The moment she saw the bed, she collapsed onto it, burying her face in the pillow.

“I hate love,” she muttered one last time before her voice trailed off.

Rishi smiled, shaking his head as he pulled the blanket over her. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, despite all the walls she tried to put up.

“You’re so cute,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Standing up, he glanced back at her one last time. “And I’ll try to make you believe in love again,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination.

With that, he turned off the lights and left, leaving Mahima to sleep off her drunken woes.

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She Was Fierce, But He Saw The Tenderness Within...❣️✨