The bedroom was silent, the only sound the soft hum of the laptop fan. On the screen, Viraj’s face appeared, his expression shifting into the familiar, easygoing look he always wore when he saw her. He was the only person who knew the blueprint of her history, the only one who had heard every sordid detail of her past adventures, and the only one she trusted enough to be completely raw with.

Avni didn’t move to cover herself. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her damp hair clinging to her neck. She was wearing a nightgown that was little more than a sheer, gossamer veil of lace. It was completely transparent, offering no cover at all. Beneath the fabric, she was entirely unburdened—no bra, no underwear, just her skin. The gown clung to her 36D bust, the fabric stretching over the fullness of her curves, making her silhouette stark and undeniably provocative. Every detail, from the flush of her skin to the small, dark mole resting on the curve of her left breast, was visible in the high-definition light of the screen.

Viraj didn’t look away, and he didn't offer the flustered, performative reactions she got from other men. He just looked at her with the deep, ingrained familiarity of fifteen years. He saw her as she was: a woman in her most vulnerable state, a woman he had seen navigate every high and low of her sex life.

"I’m just tired, Viraj," she said, her voice raw. She leaned forward, the motion causing the sheer fabric to shift and slide against her skin, highlighting the weight and shape of her breasts. She felt no shame; she felt only a need to be heard. "I’m thirty-one, and I feel like I’ve spent the last decade giving myself away to men who don’t even know how to hold me. I keep chasing these encounters, thinking I’ll find that spark, but it always ends with me feeling empty. Why does it always end with me feeling like just a body for someone to discard?"

Viraj leaned back in his own chair, his gaze lingering on her with a calm, analytical focus. "You’re not 'discarded,' Avni. You’re just bored with the games you’re playing. You keep running into these scenarios expecting something to change, but you’re using the same script."

She let out a frustrated sound, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breath. She traced the mole on her left breast with her fingertip, an unconscious, sensual motion that she knew he saw. "I want to feel something real, Viraj. I have these urges, this hunger, but I’m so exhausted by the drama that follows. I want to be in control of my own pleasure without the heartache that always comes as the tax."

"Then stop treating your pleasure like it’s a trade," Viraj said, his voice firm and steady. "You’ve told me about every adventure you’ve had over the last decade. You’ve always been honest about what you want. But you’re searching for validation in the one place you know it doesn't exist: in the hands of people who don't care to know you."

Avni looked at him, feeling the familiar, grounding weight of their connection. There was no romance between them—they had been clear about that since the beginning—but there was an intimacy here that was deeper than any physical hookup she’d ever had.

"I just want to be able to enjoy my own body," she whispered, her eyes searching his. "I want to reach a point where I’m not just a ‘hot girl’ in someone else’s story, but the one holding the pen."

"Then start writing," Viraj replied, his expression turning conspiratorial. "Look, I know you aren't looking for a 'forever' right now, and honestly? Good. You don't need a savior, Avni; you need a partner who understands the rules. You need a FWB situation where there’s actual mutual respect, someone who can handle your intensity without trying to own it."

He leaned closer to his own camera, ticking names off on his fingers. "You need to be in action, not crying over spilled milk. What about Aryan? He’s that architect you met at the gala—he’s discreet, and he knows how to keep things light. Or there’s Sameer from your gym, the one who’s always checking you out but is too intimidated to make a move because he thinks you’re 'out of his league.' Even Kabir, that guy from your office who’s always looking for a travel buddy—he’s uncomplicated, and he definitely has the stamina you’re looking for."

Avni listened, her heartbeat steadying as she considered the options. It was refreshing to hear Viraj talk about her pleasure like it was just another part of her life that needed managing.

"Think about it," Viraj finished, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You’re beautiful, you’re insatiable, and you’re tired of the heartbreak. Just pick someone who’s as clear on the terms as you are, and for once, stop apologizing for wanting to have a little fun.”