Chapter 5: The Doorway of Destiny

I rushed upstairs, heart pounding, and knocked on Kunal’s door. My hands shook as I pounded the heavy teak. The corridor echoed with each knock. Just as I was about to knock again, the door was yanked open.

Kunal stood in the doorway, wild-eyed, a torn bedsheet on the floor behind him and a broken glass near his desk. The faint red tilak on the doorframe caught my eye, the lingering scent of agarbatti from evening puja mixing oddly with the musky, supernatural air pouring out of his room.

Kunal’s eyes were bloodshot. He wore only a half-buttoned shirt, skin slick with sweat, collar hanging loose to reveal sharp collarbones. His horns glowed faintly, black tail curled behind his legs. His chest rose and fell, breath ragged. For the first time, I found him... attractive, in a way I’d never allowed myself to notice.

He clutched the doorframe, staring at me, voice hoarse but still restrained, as always: "Tum... yahan kaise? You shouldn’t have bothered."

For a second, I almost turned and ran. Wasn’t it him who messaged me for help? Did he not remember? Or did he regret it already?

Whenever I faced Kunal, I always seemed to get angry for no reason. My fingers fiddled with my bangles, the metal clinking in the tense silence. Maybe it was guilt—he always made me feel guilty, always so silent, so patient.

I shoved him in annoyance. "Didn’t you message me, asking me to come? What, am I not allowed to be a bit late, coming from the east side of the city to your west side? Without me, you can’t get through adulthood?"

The words came out harsher than I meant. My toe jabbed against the marble floor, embarrassment and frustration mixing in my chest.

Kunal backed away, collapsing to the floor as if his bones had melted. He slid down the wall, legs splayed, head bowed, tail curling around his ankle. "...Then go," he whispered, thick with pain, not looking at me.

The silence pressed in. My heart hammered. I bit my lip, wanting to reach out but not knowing how. My anger flared. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Why couldn’t he just say what he wanted?

What does he mean? He wanted me to come, but now that I’m here, he wants me to leave?

The contradiction burned. For a second, I almost screamed at him.

How is he just as annoying as Arjun? The thought startled me. Were they really the same—or had I just never bothered to look past my own assumptions?

Speaking of Arjun, I felt even more stifled. His name was a stone in my stomach. How could I ever forgive him—or myself?

Doesn’t he hate Kunal, treating me as a tool to defeat him? All those years, and I’d been nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s rivalry.

Then I’ll make sure he loses completely. A surge of resolve filled me. I wasn’t going to let anyone—not Arjun, not even destiny—decide my story for me. If Kunal needed me, I would be there. Whatever came next, I would face it head-on, like the stubborn Mumbai girl I’d always been.