Chapter 2: Bullet Comments and Bitter Truths

It was that time of the month again. Arjun rolled over, pinning me gently to the bed.

His touch was familiar, yet every time his hands found me, a shiver ran through my body. Even after five years, I had to brace myself for his relentless passion—half comfort, half ache.

As we moved together, I left red trails of scratch marks on his back—evidence of nights that were anything but dull.

Outside, the city buzzed—last autos honking as they hurried home. By the time it was late, my limbs were so spent I could only cling to Arjun as he scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom for a shower. His arms were strong, but my legs, wobbly, refused to cooperate. The bathroom’s white tube-light flickered—power cuts were routine in this old flat.

Half-awake, I opened my eyes—only to see lines and lines of text flashing before me.

[Villainous supporting female gets to eat so well, who’s jealous? Not me, definitely not.]

[Why didn’t we get to see the last scene? Even as a premium member, I can’t watch it?]

[Dear Lord Krishna, let me swap into the supporting female’s body for a one-day trial.]

[Wow, someone’s comments are getting a bit spicy~]

[Isn’t this supposed to be a double-purity couple? Why’s the hero doing that with the supporting female?]

[Which ghost from the Mughal era is here? Kick them out.]

The fog in my mind cleared instantly. I stared at the bullet comments, then at Arjun, my heart thudding as I wondered if I was losing my grip on reality. Were these hallucinations, or was my exhaustion making me see things? The voices, though—each comment—felt sharper than the chill of marble under my feet.

"Arjun, can you see this?"

Arjun gently lowered me into the bathtub, twisting the hot water tap. He looked up, a crease of worry between his brows. "See what, Meera?"

For a moment, I almost laughed at myself. Maybe I was just dizzy. I quickly shook my head. But when I blinked, the barrage was still there.

[What’s the supporting female doing? With the hero’s body right there, how does she still have time to feel sleepy?]

[Understandable, since the novel says the hero does it seven times in one night with the heroine.]

[Just thinking about it makes my back ache, haha.]

[As expected, he doesn’t love the supporting female—not even seven times in one night.]

[Where did you come from? Think you can watch for free?]

[My girl meets the hero tomorrow, can’t wait!]

[With the hero’s body, I’d be happy as the supporting female too.]

[+1 +1...]

I stared blankly at Arjun. Seven times in one night?

Impossible. Why has he never done it seven times in one night with me?

Arjun tucked me in, settling on the far side of the bed. As the lights faded, his voice was low and rough. "Go to sleep."

His back faced me, a shadow against the wall. I reached out, hesitating, then grabbed his hand, looking up with a half-smile. "Arjun, ek aur round? Or are you tired already?"

His eyes darkened, thinking. After a moment, he replied, "It’s late, Meera. So jao, please."

Hmph. He really doesn’t love me—he won’t even let me test his stamina properly.

The AC purred, and the streetlight outside painted golden stripes across the ceiling. Slowly, I drifted off. By morning, Arjun had already left for work. The pillow beside me was cool, but the faint scent of his sandalwood soap and strong filter coffee lingered.

But one thing was certain: those bullet comments were real, flashing before my eyes, reminding me I was just the villainous supporting female.

Still, I refused to believe them. Arjun and I had grown up together. Even if our marriage was a family arrangement, after all these years, we respected each other—and our nights were far from boring. I remembered our laughter, those rainy evenings spent watching cricket, and our silly fights about which ladoo shop was the best in town. No, they were wrong. Our story was ours—not some writer’s plot.