Please finish Chapter 2 before jumping in--it sets the stage.
3.1: The Dual Masks
The night draped the house in a restless hush, broken only by the faint flicker of Madhuri's phone lighting up her bedroom. Downstairs, Ramesh's snores rumbled on, oblivious to the storm brewing above. Abhi's music thumped softly through the walls, a distant pulse.
She sat on the bed, her soft blue nightie clinging to her skin, riding up her thighs as she toggled between two phones. On her main, she'd unblocked DevilzMask yesterday--his unanswered reply still glowed there: "Keep me close--I'll show you more."
Her pulse quickened, a flush creeping up her neck that she despised but couldn't shake. She switched to ShyVelvet, her anonymous escape born last night, and stared at her last sent message: "Maybe I'm closer than you think, stalker. Guess me first."
No reply yet. She'd left him dangling, savoring the upper hand, but now the itch grew, her body betraying her resolve.
She typed slowly, deliberately. "You're quiet, stalker. Scared of a challenge?" Her thumb hovered, then pressed send. She leaned back, waiting, the silence stretching taut.
Across town, Ishaan lounged in his room, the phone's glow catching the smirk curling his lips. Abhi's screenshot of ShyVelvet had blown his mind--she was clever, juggling two accounts, two masks--but he held both strings now.
The shock had faded, replaced by a rush of excitement coursing through him like electricity. Revenge tasted sweet, cruel, and he could already imagine outsmarting her, turning her game against her.
He reclined on his bed, fingers drumming the sheets in anticipation. She wouldn't see it coming, and that made his grin widen.
Her alt's latest taunt popped up, and his dick twitched--she wanted action, craved it--but he'd make her beg first.
"No one's gonna stop me from doing what I'm about to do to you, Aunty," he laughed under his breath, the sound low and wicked.
Texting her main, he typed fast. "Sorry to disturb Madhuri, just couldn't keep quiet. Especially after watching you in that red kurta today. Bet it feels good hugging you tight." He hit send, leaning back with a predator's patience.
Madhuri's main phone buzzed, and she scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Idiot! Why's he texting my main again?" she muttered, but her cheeks burned, his words slicing through her armor.
She fired back quickly. "Flattery won't work. Leave me alone."
Her alt stayed silent--no buzz, no reply--and the ache in her sharpened, a hunger she couldn't voice on her main.
She switched again, typing furiously. "Ignoring me, huh? Guess I'm not worth your time." She sent it, leaning back, thighs pressing together under the nightie as the humid air clung tighter.
Ishaan grinned, ignoring her alt entirely. "Perfect, let her stew," he thought, picturing her frustration.
He fired back to her main instead. "Leave you? Can't. You're in my head--all that beauty, wasted on a snoring fool." He sent it, imagining her squirming with anger as Ramesh's snores echoed below, a cruel jab she couldn't dodge.
Madhuri read it, her breath hitching. The truth in his words stung, and she typed back, furious. "You know nothing about my life. Stop."
But her fingers lingered on her alt, itching for his reply there, craving the tease she could unleash. Silence greeted her instead, leaving her confused, dangling on his hook.
Downstairs, Abhi sank onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. Ishaan's smug face flashed in his mind, those screenshots spreading like poison through their twisted game. "What's gonna happen now?" he wondered, the house feeling smaller, darker, like it was closing in.
He'd handed his mom over to Ishaan, and the thrill of it--sharp, dark, undeniable--mixed with a gnawing dread. He'd broken something, maybe beyond repair, and the dance unfolding above him cast him as a shadow he couldn't escape.
Upstairs, Madhuri's smirk returned as she stared at her alt phone. She'd sent her taunt, and though he'd gone quiet, she felt the power still--her mask intact, her game alive.
She locked the phone away, pride swelling. Across town, Ishaan's grin held a darker edge. He had her moves, her secrets, and the next play was his.
3.2: The Friend's Facade
The next morning spilled soft light into the kitchen as Abhi shuffled in, eyes bleary, his glasses fogged from sleep. Madhuri stood at the stove, flipping dosas with a practiced flick, her purple kurta catching the sun--a bright splash against the steel.
She hummed a tune he didn't recognize, her movements light, like some invisible weight had slipped off her shoulders. He watched her, the secret of her alt phone burning in his gut.
"She's texting Ishaan, playing a game she doesn't even know he's winning," he thought, the words heavy in his chest.
"Had a good sleep, Maa?" he asked, his voice tight, barely above a mumble.
She nodded, flashing a smile. "Yeah, sweetie, you?"
He shrugged, avoiding her eyes, "Me too," the lie sticking in his throat like dry bread.
The doorbell cut through the moment, sharp and sudden. Madhuri wiped her hands on a towel and opened it to Ishaan, his grin wide and unannounced.
"Namaste, aunty! Abhi said you're free--thought I'd drop by," he chirped, stepping in.
His white tee clung to his chest, and Madhuri blinked, caught off-guard. "Ohh hi, Ishaan--come in," she said, stepping aside, her smile polite but edged with wariness.
Abhi glared, hissing under his breath, "I didn't say that!" But Ishaan just winked, striding past like he owned the place.
"Smells like heaven again," Ishaan said, sniffing the air, his gaze sliding over her kurta--subtle, but hungry. "You're spoiling us, aunty."
Madhuri laughed, brushing it off. "Don't you start. Sit--want dosa?" She plated one and handed it over, his fingers grazing hers--deliberate, slow.
"Thanks, aunty. You're too good to us," he said, his voice dipping into a velvet edge that made her hand falter, a flicker of heat sparking in her chest. She hid it fast, turning back to the stove.
Abhi watched, fists clenched under the table. Ishaan's charm, his mom's flush--it was too much. "We've got homework," he blurted, standing abruptly, but Ishaan waved him off.
"Chill, bro--let me enjoy this first." He bit into the dosa, moaning loud and exaggerated. "Fuck--oops, sorry, aunty--best thing I've tasted."
Madhuri swatted his arm, laughing despite herself. "Watch that mouth, boy!" But her eyes lingered a beat too long, catching the flex of his biceps under her touch, and Abhi's stomach twisted.
A thrill he hated spiked sharp, clawing at him.
Ishaan stayed an hour, filling the kitchen with chatter about cricket, praising her cooking, dropping flirty jabs she deflected with playful scolds.
