Volume 4 – Chapter 4: The Confession Game
“Power is not always spoken… sometimes, it’s whispered in confessions.”
The office looked too clean tonight.
Not tidy.
Clean — like something had been scrubbed.
Scrubbed too hard.
Like someone was trying to erase a memory. Or a body.
Ruhaan walked down the hallway, his leather shoes tapping against the silence.
Security cameras blinked.
The same ones he used to watch Kamini from — now felt like eyes mocking him.
It had been five days.
Since she touched him.
Since she said his name.
Since she walked past him like he was just another intern.
Kamini had disappeared.
But her ghost was everywhere.
Then came the message.
No sender name. Just one line:
“Conference Room 9. Midnight. Alone.”
He didn’t need a signature.
Only one person in this building had the audacity to play mystery games on company email.
The door to Conference Room 9 was already ajar.
It smelled like jasmine and wet paper.
Kamini sat inside.
Legs crossed.
A single spotlight above her head. The rest of the room drowned in shadows.
On the table — an old typewriter.
Not a laptop. Not a phone.
A vintage, black-metal typewriter.
“Come,” she said, without looking up. “We’re playing a game tonight.”
Ruhaan stepped in.
Closed the door.
He could feel the air charge around them. Like thunder waiting to become a storm.
Kamini finally looked up.
Red bindi. No lipstick. Bare eyes.
And yet, she was the most dangerous she’d ever looked.
“Aayan is back,” she said.
Ruhaan froze.
“He’s joining the board as Creative Director. Viraj made the deal. Looks like old ghosts get promotions around here.”
He stayed quiet.
Because he didn’t trust what would come out of his mouth.
Kamini smiled. “Don’t look so shocked. You thought I was your first?”
She stood up and walked around the table.
Pulled out a chair across from him.
“There’s a game I play with men I’ve touched,” she said softly.
“It’s called the Confession Game.”
Ruhaan raised an eyebrow.
She leaned in.
“We take turns. One confession each.
Rules are simple — lie, and the other gets to ask anything.”
He smirked. “And what do we win?”
Kamini’s eyes glinted.
“You win the truth. The rarest thing in this building.”
Round 1
Kamini: “I’ve kissed someone in this room before.”
Ruhaan: “I know. It was Aayan. The CCTV was broken. But not the mirror.”
Kamini smiles. “Your turn.”
Ruhaan: “I replay the night you took my tie off in the elevator... every time I’m alone in the lift.”
Kamini’s eyes flicker. “Did you save the CCTV clip?”
Ruhaan: “Deleted. But not from memory.”
Round 2
Kamini: “I haven’t moaned your name in five days. But I’ve whispered it in sleep.”
Ruhaan: “I haven’t slept in five days.”
Kamini’s lips twitch. “Why?”
Ruhaan: “Because I was afraid you’d be in my dreams.”
She gets up.
Rain begins to pour — hard, metallic, fast.
She whispers without turning,
“Do you want to know why I stopped coming to you?”
Ruhaan stands up.
“No. I want to know why you ever came to me at all.”
She turns around.
And for a second — she’s not Kamini the boss.
Not the seductress. Not the whisper.
She’s just… a woman. A tired woman.
“Because you reminded me that I was alive. And that was dangerous.”
She walks up to him.
Presses a key on the typewriter.
CLACK.
One letter.
“Everything I feel,” she says, “I’ve typed in this. No electricity. No backup.
You burn the page, it’s gone forever.”
She tears the paper.
Folds it once. Twice. Slips it into his coat pocket.
“Don’t read it now. Wait till it hurts again.”
Ruhaan tries to grab her hand.
She pulls away.
“We’re not done,” he says.
Kamini whispers, “We never started.”
She walks out.
The rain follows her.
Ruhaan stands still.
One hand on the paper in his pocket.
The other… clenched so hard, his nails dig into his palm.
In another room, Viraj watches the hallway footage.
A glass of wine in hand.
His eyes calm.
He whispers into the recorder:
“Kamini’s weakness has a name now.
And it bleeds.”
💋
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