THE COLOUR OF DESIRE

STORY 1: (Part 9&10)

Part 9: The Terrace at Midnight

Midnight in Mumbai didn’t bring silence; it only brought a different kind of noise—the distant roar of the local trains and the hum of a city that never slept. Mrs. Kulkarni’s snores were steady and heavy, a signal that the coast was finally clear.

I slipped out of my room, the silver key cold against my palm. I climbed the final flight of stairs to the terrace door. The old iron hinges groaned as I turned the key, and then, I was out.

The air was cooler here, smelling of the nearby sea and wet concrete. And there, standing by the edge of the parapet, was Sunita.

She had let her hair down. It cascaded over her shoulders like a dark waterfall, blowing slightly in the breeze. She was wearing a simple sleeveless nightgown, her back turned to me as she looked out at the flickering lights of the city.

"You came," she whispered, without turning around.

"I have the key, don't I?" I walked toward her, my footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

When I reached her, she turned. Her face was bathed in the pale glow of the moon, making her eyes look like two dark pools of liquid. She didn't say anything. She simply reached out and took my hand, pulling me toward the shadows of the large water tank where the streetlights couldn't reach us.

"Up here, the rules don't exist," she said, her voice barely a breath. "Down there, I am a widow’s daughter-in-law. Up here... I’m just Sunita."

I pulled her closer, my arms wrapping around her waist. The fabric of her gown was so thin I could feel the warmth of her body immediately. She leaned her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. I couldn't resist; I leaned down, my lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

She let out a soft, sharp intake of breath, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Wait," she murmured, even as she pulled me closer. "Listen."

We stood frozen. From the staircase below, we heard a faint sound. A metallic clink.

My blood ran cold. Was it the mother-in-law? Had she found the spare key? Or had she noticed Sunita’s bed was empty?

"Stay still," Sunita hissed, her body tensing against mine.

We stayed locked in that position for minutes, hidden behind the concrete tank, our hearts beating in a frantic, uneven rhythm. The sound didn't come again—it was likely just a stray cat or the building's old pipes—but the reminder of the danger only made the fire between us burn hotter.

Sunita looked up at me, a defiant smile touching her lips. "She's not coming," she whispered. "And even if she did... I don't think I'd stop."

She reached for the buttons of my shirt, her movements urgent and hungry. The city of Mumbai was laid out beneath us, millions of people living their lives, but in this moment, on this dark rooftop, we were the only two people who mattered. The "The Colour of Desire" wasn't just a title anymore—it was the very air we were breathing.

​Part 10: The Unlocked Door

​The sun hadn’t even fully cleared the horizon when the screaming started. It wasn't a scream of pain, but of pure, unfiltered rage.

​"Sunita! Get out here this instant!"

​I bolted upright in my bed, my heart slamming against my ribs. I looked at my bedside clock: 6:15 AM. My mind raced back to the night before—the terrace, the sea breeze, the silver key.

​The key. I reached under my mattress. My fingers brushed the cold metal. I had remembered to bring it back down, but in our rush to get back to our rooms before the milkman arrived, had we locked the door behind us?

​I threw on a t-shirt and cracked my door open. Mrs. Kulkarni was standing at the foot of the terrace stairs, her face a deep shade of purple. She was holding a heavy iron lock in her hand—the one that was supposed to be securing the rooftop.

​Sunita emerged from the kitchen, her eyes slightly puffy from lack of sleep, but her face remained a mask of calm. "What happened, Ma-ji? Why are you shouting?"

​"What happened?" Mrs. Kulkarni held up the lock. "This lock was hanging open! The terrace door was swinging in the wind! I told you I lost the key months ago, so how did it open? Did a ghost walk up there to enjoy the view?"

​Sunita’s gaze flickered toward my room for a split second—a warning. "Maybe the bolt was rusted, Ma-ji. The salt air in Mumbai ruins everything. Or maybe a thief tried to get in?"

​"A thief?" the mother-in-law stepped closer to Sunita, her voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. "A thief who enters a house, goes to the terrace, locks nothing, and steals nothing? Don't play me for a fool. I smelled that perfume again this morning on the stairs. Your perfume."

​I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. I stepped out of my room, trying to look like a confused student woken up by the noise. "Is everything okay, ma'am? I heard shouting."

​Mrs. Kulkarni turned her sharp gaze toward me. Her eyes traveled from my messy hair down to my bare feet. She walked toward me, her wooden sandals clicking like a countdown timer.

​"You," she said, pointing a finger at my chest. "You were studying late last night. Did you hear anything on the stairs? Did you see anyone moving through the hallway while I was asleep?"

​The pressure was immense. If I blinked wrong, she would know. "I... I had my headphones on, Ma-ji. I was watching a lecture. I didn't hear anything until your voice woke me up just now."

​She didn't look convinced. She walked past me, right into my room. She began looking around—at my desk, my bookshelf, and then her eyes landed on the bed.

​"You haven't made your bed yet," she remarked, her voice dripping with suspicion. She moved toward the mattress, the very place where the silver key was hidden under the corner. "Let me help you straighten these sheets. A tidy room leads to a tidy mind."

​My breath hitched. Sunita was standing in the doorway, her hand gripping the frame so hard her knuckles were white. If the mother-in-law lifted that corner, the silver key would fall out, and our lives in this apartment would be over.