Chapter 2

Neha encountered this guy online on an app, which is basically used for sexual encounters. His name was Raghav. Their first night was just a steamy, sexy night for both of them.

She had no clue that he worked in such a place until they were meeting again and again.

He revealed a lot of things, such as his similarity with Neha. He had never felt any connection with any of the women he has slept with and needed to feel something other than his duty. Which rested Neha's raising questions.

She allocated about her life as well. About her being an only child, but a problematic one. About the relationship with her mother and her best friend.

Since he worked in that secret bawdyhouse, he realized what kind of women usually arrived there and assumed Mira would love the experience.

"She'd like this place!" He suggested and handed a black card to Neha. "You have to go to this place." He said, "They are very secretive and very safe. She will like it."

And thus Neha suggested a suggestion given to her to Mira.

Midnight, bright lights, brown walls, in the office in her apartment on the 23rd floor. In front of her large computer screen, wearing a dark black flowy, nightgown, Mira was beating her keypad, struggling to write an idea.

Getting distracted by the busy city lights visible from the large glass door to her right, she gasped, glancing at the couch in front of the glass door, right beside her.

Although Mira desired a change. She denied considering a bawdyhouse. It was not the virtuous place for someone like her; she thought. It was not decent and upright.

As her thoughts started growing, thinking about what to do. Whether to call the bawdyhouse or not, she received a call herself.

It buzzed beside the mouse, making the wooden, white working table buzz as well.

Rolling her eyes at the view of the name popping on her phone screen, she exhaled hard, astonished at his audacity to call her this late.

Irritated, she answered the call. "Why did you call?" She could not sound any harsher.

"Do not be angry! It's important." He startled.

Mr. Rao was the next successor of the famous publishing firm and had been appointed as Mira's manager by her own agreement.

The main motto of Mr. Rao's mother by appointing him to Mira was to teach him flexibility. Which Mira disliked so much. But let it happen anyway.

Mira was the toughest and the nastiest writer in their famous publishing firm. The fame of the firm was brought up by her writings, which is why she was a spoiled writer. Who was just as richer as the firm itself.

"What for?" She coldly replied, staring at the blue screen with empty word pages.

"What?" He was the joyful sibling of three of his brothers. A hardworking, tall, sturdy, brown skin, black hair, and black-eyed, 27 years old lad.

He was a guy of wit and competitive nature. Yet he surrendered before Mira.

"To help, of course. To help you write. You know I'm your manager, right? Plus, — my mother will kill me if I do not -wag- behind you."

"I would have fired you already if you weren't your mother's son."

"I know. — That's why I'm very thankful for her being the CEO of the company." Rolling her eyes at his trying-to-be-funny words, she disconnected the call, slapping her forehead.

"His golden retriever conduct irks me," Mira bitterly whispered, leaving the white wooden chair empty.

She stood up tall, and approached the glass door, passing by the white couch.

The door was unlocked.

She stepped out onto her empty, huge balcony and strode closer to the cemented railing, grasping the edges as she gazed at the view in front.

The building she lived in was one of the most popular for the view it gave to the buyers. It was the view anyone would pay the amount teetered out of their mouth.

But the jostling view, defining horns of the cars and the sight filled with city lights did not amuse her.

She did not understand why does she hate the view so much. Why would she not like it after dreaming of such a place for years?

It was her lifelong dream to be an author, to be filthy rich and own an apartment in the most expensive building.

But why was she still feeling not at peace?

Lacking a cigarette in her fingers, she quickly turned around and stepped inside her office, looking for the pack she remembered she put on the working table.

But it was not there.

So, she stepped out of the office as well, and observed the living room with two large black sofas in the middle surrounding the glass table, on the black-coated rug.

The kitchen was at her front and the main door was at the right side. She glanced at the open door at the left, 10 steps behind the sofa.

At first, she had thought the pack might be in her bedroom, which was right beside her office, but the open door of her changing room hailed her in.

And just when she could step into the changing room, the landline rang. It was the second time that day that someone was calling her at a dark time.

She paced towards the couch and sat, facing the large tv on the wall, right in front of her changing room, and picked up the receiver.

Right before she could say anything, the line disconnected, leaving her confused.

It might be a wrong number, she thought and glanced at her black bag sitting right beside her.

That's when she recalled her cigarettes were in her bag.

She quickly lifted the bag and placed it on the table and started looking for the pack with her both hands in it and her fingers slipped with two different things.

She pulled both of her hands out and gazed at her right hand holding a pack and the left holding the business card.

She whiffed feeling at a loss and placed the card right in front of her on the glass table.

As she lit the cigarette, she kept her poking eyes on the black card, jumbling in her head once again.

"You need relief," Mira recalled Neha's words as she exhaled the smoke. "Your need to clear your head. This will help you a lot." Neha's words continued in her head.

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To be continued...

--- Love, author! 🦋