Monty sat in silence, his mind still reeling from the phone call with Preem. The words echoed in his head like a storm that wouldn't settle. His lips pressed into a tight line, eyes blank as Romy reached out, gently grabbing his hand.
"Let's go back to the room, love," Romy said softly, his voice filled with concern.
Monty didn't resist. He let Romy guide him through the dimly lit hallway of the hotel, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The moment they entered the room, Romy shut the door behind them, turned around, and without a second's hesitation, cupped Monty's cheeks and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips.
Monty froze, then gently pushed him away. "Romy… no. Please," he whispered, his voice fragile.
Romy stepped back, blinking in confusion. "What's wrong, baby? You were fine earlier. Did something happen?"
Monty struggled to find the words. He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't tell the truth either. Not yet.
"I'm just tired," he said finally, avoiding Romy's gaze.
Romy nodded slowly. "Okay. That's fine." He didn't believe it, but he didn't push. Instead, he walked into the bathroom to take a shower, letting the steam drown his questions.
Inside the bathroom, Romy couldn't stop smiling. He replayed the image of Monty dancing at the club in his head—adorably drunk, wiggling his hips like no one was watching, arms flailing like a confused octopus. God, she's cute, Romy thought as water flowed over his face. Too cute to handle.
Outside, Monty sat on the bed, his expression shadowed with worry. Preem had found Preety. She was coming. The real wife Romy was supposed to be with.
And Monty? He was just… a substitute. A warm body in a cold bed. A temporary bride in a ridiculous game of mistaken identity. He clenched the bedsheet in his fists. How did I fall for him? He thinks I'm Preety. He kisses me thinking of her. I'm nothing more than a beautiful illusion.
The door creaked, and Romy emerged, water droplets glistening on his skin. His hair, still wet, clung to his forehead. He looked like every girl's dream and every guy's threat—unfairly hot. Monty's heart skipped a beat despite himself.
Romy caught him staring and smirked. "Like what you see, wifey?"
Monty blinked rapidly and turned away. "N-No. I mean—Yes—I mean… go dry your hair!"
Romy laughed, stepping closer. "You're adorable when you're flustered."
Monty jumped up and bolted into the bathroom. Behind him, Romy called out, "Don't be long, my cotton candy!"
Inside the bathroom, Monty splashed cold water on his face. "Get it together," he told his reflection. "He's not yours. You're not even a girl. You're literally lying to him every second."
When Monty finally emerged, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead just like Romy's, he found Romy sitting on the bed, legs crossed, looking at him with those soulful eyes.
Romy patted the bed. "Come sit. Let's talk."
Monty hesitated, then sat down, leaving a small space between them.
"I've been thinking," Romy began. "We've been through a lot lately. And… I was wondering if maybe tonight… we could finally be… intimate?"
Monty's heart nearly exploded. "I—I can't. Not tonight. I'm… still not feeling okay."
Romy's face fell a little but he smiled through it. "It's okay. No pressure."
"Thank you," Monty whispered.
"But," Romy leaned in, eyes glinting mischievously, "can I at least have a proper kiss?"
Monty hesitated, then leaned forward and gave him a soft peck on the lips before quickly turning around and pretending to sleep.
Romy huffed dramatically. "What was that? A kiss? That felt like my aunt pecking me on the cheek! I wanted a long, movie-style kiss with background music and fireworks!"
Monty didn't reply, eyes shut, pretending he was already asleep.
Romy chuckled, slid under the blanket, and wrapped his arms around Monty from behind. "You're lucky you're cute," he whispered into his ear.
But Monty couldn't sleep. His heart ached.
As Romy's breath steadied, and his chest rose and fell in rhythm, Monty turned to face him. He watched Romy sleep, his features relaxed, peaceful… and breathtakingly beautiful.
Monty reached out as if to trace his jaw but pulled back. He doesn't even know who I really am.
Then, Romy's eyes fluttered open. A lazy, teasing smile curled on his lips.
"Caught you staring," he murmured. "Can't resist my handsome face, huh?"
Monty's cheeks flushed, but before he could reply, Romy leaned in and kissed him again—this time slow, deep, and warm. Their lips moved together for what felt like five whole minutes. Monty melted into it, even as tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.
Romy eventually pulled back and hugged him tightly. "Goodnight, Mrs. Handsome," he whispered playfully.
Monty closed his eyes, the ache in his chest deepening. This love… it's not for me. Not really. And soon, he'll leave me for the real Preety.
But for now, he let himself feel it. Just for tonight.