Ohas walked back home, his hands balled into fists and shoved in his pockets. He could still feel the heat of her on his hand, her warm breath and the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest as he had held her. The lingering feelings made cold sweat break out on his neck. But he also saw the hatred that sparkled in her eyes when he had grabbed her, the sort of hatred she wouldn't show to her bastard of a husband, he thought bitterly.

Why hadn't she run away on her wedding day? He had kept a room for her in his apartment with a bed and a closet for all her belongings. He had waited for her behind the tamarind tree at the playground, smoking cigarettes till he ran out of the pack.  Finally, the sky swallowed the sun, spewing a few twinkling stars and Ohas returned home, his restless heart muffled by the quiet sadness of the night.

It wasn't love, he reminded himself. He had never loved anybody in his life nor he could ever love anybody. He had simply gotten way too used to that woman, it was impossible to see her be with someone else. They had known each other since childhood, they had played together, bathed in lakes together, stole candies together and even murdered someone together. How could she be with another man now?

And that man. Ohas felt his blood throb in his head the moment he saw him on the internet in his posh suit and shoes. He hated men like him, men who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Men who continued generational exploitation of wealth and power, men who had never gotten their hands dirty like him. Men who got pretty girls like Naina within a snap of their fingers, but discarded them as soon as they had their fill, moving on to the rich ladies with manicured nails, luxury handbags and French perfumes.

One detail was to never be missed, whoever Ohas hated, they were bound to die.

As he plotted ways to kill this man, he spotted one of his tenants who hadn't paid his rent for months, swinging a plastic bag of milk and whistling some Bollywood tune. From across the street, the eyes of both men met, one meek and fearful, another cold and sharp. Before Ohas could close the distance between them, the man swung the packet of milk towards him as if throwing a water balloon during Holi. Little did he know, Ohas had quick reflexes and he dodged the packet, seizing him by the collar the next second.

"I-I will pay y-you the rent soon," the man said, his teeth clattering as if he was freezing. "My daughter's fees, I have to pay---"

"Is that my problem?" Ohas asked, towering over him. He hated weak men like him, men who gave birth to children but couldn't take care of them. His father had been one of the kind, never bringing enough money to the table and eventually succumbing to alcoholism after his mother's death. Ohas was thirteen when he turned an orphan, doing odd jobs at the tea shop or selling cotton candies for a living. He had come far from that little boy, now he had acquired apartments and chawls across Gandhi Nagar and rented them out for a living. Nobody knew how he had acquired them, nobody dared to question him. Only someone like Ohas could handle tenants in this area, tenants who were fraudsters, thieves, raging alcoholics and conniving pimps.

Just as the weak man let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Ohas striding away in disgust, Ohas came back in a flash, gripped the man's hand and twisted it, his thin fingers breaking like twigs. "This should remind you. Next time, no delay."

Silent tears streamed down the man's face as he was too stunned to speak, feeling his fingers crackle like chips and his knees buckle. People passing by threw him a look of pity, but nobody raised their voice. A group of tittering women huddled together, lowering their heads and voices when Ohas passed by them. Young women like them were fed stories by their mother, about how if they didn't return home before it became dark, men like Ohas would kidnap and do dirty things to them.

Ohas smiled wryly at the women, wondering how Naina would look in the tight, pink churidar that one of them wore.

Just then, someone bumped into him hard and before he could smash that person's face, he heard a string of apologies, "So sorry, I didn't mean to---"

"Ronak," he murmured, looking at the pale man who had bullied him when they were children. It was strange to see him apologising, the little boy in Ohas still wanted to bow down. But he stood tall with his jaw clenched, spitting out, "Get out of my way."

Ronak shuffled away, not meeting his eyes. How the tables had turned. Before Ohas had hit puberty, he used to return home with dislodged shoulders, broken ankles and swollen eyes. But with puberty, Ohas had grown big and strong, and none of his bullies stood a chance to win against him. He was able to protect Naina then, making sure that nobody could even pluck one hair out of her head. But his work was reduced significantly since Naina had been one fierce girl, biting and fighting off anyone who tried to bully her after the murder. It had been just the two of them then, two kids with hearts that burned brighter than the sun above.

As Ohas walked into the dingy building, he pushed the door open and entered his room, a naked body lay stretched on his bed, rolling over to greet him. "Well, hello there."

"You didn't return home," he said, sitting on the bed and removing his shoes.

"Nobody cares about me at home," she said without any bitterness, her eyes were twinkling in mischief. "For a woman, being a whore is the best. You get the kind of freedom a man gets." She stretched her arms, slipping her hand in Ohas' jeans. Ohas caught it before she could touch him. "Aw, come on. You weren't like this fucking me last night."

"Not now," he said, getting up from the bed. "You should go. Your mother would be waiting."

"You know, you care only about two women in this world," she said, flipping over her stomach and brushing back her frizzy hair. "Me, although I think in a weird sisterly way." She grinned more, fearless to provoke him. "And her, your childhood friend, Naina."

"I don't care about either of you," he said, pretending to act unaffected, removing his t-shirt and tossing it in the basket.

"Let's see," she said, getting up and walking towards him. "Think of me as her. Whenever she comes this close to you," she said, placing her hand on his chest. "Do you feel your heart race? Do you feel a bit silly in your stomach?" She dropped her hand, smiling at how quiet Ohas had turned. "Do you think about her every second of your waking life? Does she sneak in your dreams too?" She pointed at herself. "Does she appear in your dreams like I am now, naked---"

"Get out," Ohas said through gritted teeth, his breathing strange, erratic and rough. How the hell did she know that? Something was wrong with him, ever since Naina had married that bastard, weird things had been happening to him. The heart thing, the stomach thing, the thinking thing, the dream . . .

"Oh boy, you're so in love," she cooed, throwing a kurta over her body and tightening the cords of her salwar.

"I don't love anybody," he said, turning away from her. He wasn't capable of love, he knew only to take, not give. He had been taking ever since he grew up. He wasn't going to turn into that scared, little boy again. He knew better. He was a man now.

Her playful voice continued, "Sure---"

"Get the fuck out," he said, suddenly gripping her throat and slamming her head against the wall. He squeezed her supple neck till he could see bluish veins popping out. For a second, there was terror in her bulging eyes, but it was only for a second. The terror soon melted away to nothingness. People like her and him had seen enough, lived enough to not be afraid of death anymore. Noticing her dead eyes in a brief second of being brought back to reality, his voice lowered as he released her as suddenly as he had held her, "Don't ever come back. I mean it."

The girl collapsed on the ground, coughing and dizzy, but soon picked herself up, having faced enough at the hands of men. Without a word or a look back, she left. She thought he had been different than other men, kinder, for he loved a woman. But she no longer knew and hoped that he wouldn't let the consuming hatred inside him win.

And that hatred was growing bigger and uglier every second that Naina was married to Ahanay, a hatred so strong that it could kill.

(Tap on the little star if you're liking this story :))