Not A Simple Engineer Boy! | ✓

043 • torsional rigidity | two

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Scrollstck- Suganthi Lakshminarayanan

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Xavier had a constant grumpy expression, which irked Satya to no end. She was both concerned and annoyed. His mood swings were as unpredictable as a PMSing woman's, and she felt like his boyfriend—always on edge, bracing for the next outburst.

"Why are you angry?" she asked slowly, like speaking to a cat poised to pounce.

"I'm not," he lied.

Sighing, she pressed on. "Xavier, do you know how frustrating it is when you're like this?" She massaged her temples. "Honestly, if your body weren't this masculine, I'd be questioning your gender."

"You're a woman. Why insult yourself?" he shot back.

"Exactly. That's how I know how a woman's mood swings work," she huffed. "But you're just—"

"I'm jealous of him!" Xavier blurted out, his eyes widening in shock, as if he'd just made a groundbreaking discovery.

Satya blinked. "Jealous of who?"

"Forget it." He wiped his face clean of emotion, shutting down.

"What the fuck is wrong with you lately?" she snapped. "You ramble incoherently, none of it makes sense, and the moment I ask, you clam up like a damn child."

"I don't fucking know, okay?" he snapped back, his voice rough. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Her hands clenched into fists as she fought the urge to slap him. "Fuck you," she spat, spinning on her heel and storming out of his house.

Let the prick sit there and fuck himself. She screamed silently in her mind as she drove home, gripping the steering wheel like it had personally offended her.

So much for playing the loving, motherly figure.

It hit like a train—the realization that the ugly feeling gnawing at him after seeing Krithika and Rathna laugh together was nothing but jealousy.

Why was he jealous of him? He had no answer.

Did his attraction to her bother him so much that it made him jealous of the younger guy? He had no answer.

How much his sweetheart a—

His breath caught in his throat. "Not my sweetheart," he muttered, swallowing painfully, trying to erase the association his mind had spun.

It was wrong. Why did so many wrong things happen, one after another? Why did every shred of control slip through his fingers like silk?

"Not my sweetheart," he repeated, grinding his teeth. He flinched as a sharp pain stabbed his left palm. "Fuck!"

He kicked the table, sending it screeching across the floor. He was angry—not at being attracted to a woman, but at being attracted to a woman far too young. Furious at himself for desiring someone who detested him. Enraged for losing control over a woman who hated his touch, maybe even his entire existence.

He was so fucking infuriated for being attracted to Ms. Krithika Ashok—the sweetheart. His sweetheart. And he couldn't control a damn thing about it.

He leaned back, resting his head flat on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The leafy patterns swirled slowly as he focused on them. Dark bronze with hints of green, reminiscent of eternal autumn and an imminent coldness.

It was the first time he'd noticed them. He hadn't given them much thought when the interior designer asked about his preferences. He'd vaguely mentioned autumn—the only season that mirrored the lifelessness he felt inside. But he never realized autumn had more to offer.

The majestic bronze held a touch of olive green—or was it something else? He was never good with colors. It was like a spark of life hidden within those dead leaves, a flicker of hope.

Is this how Satya saw life? Every sunrise was magical to her, probably because she found meaning in them—a life she still hoped for.

Was he seeing the leaves the same way? The rich bronze reminded him of Krithika's glowing, supple skin—soft and warm. The hint of green was like her youth, the delicate curves like her body, the golden edges like her confidence. Every fucking thing reminded him of her. She was beautiful, inside and out.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

He remembered how she stood up for herself against him, how she admitted to guilt over nonsense just to protect her friend. How her confidence burned bright when she talked about her work.

He remembered how beautiful she looked in his arms, how her body felt pressed against his, how ethereal her laughter sounded.

But you weren't the one who gave her that happiness.

He shut his eyes, shutting the world out, and tried to forget. He needed peace. He'd endured enough pain in this life. His heart couldn't take any more.

He wouldn't let it take any more.

Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.