Then I froze.

Because it’s not some papped picture of him with another woman.

It’s… oh God. Oh God.

Save me. I’ll die.

Because it was on the Instagram story of my husband, the same one who has millions of followers.

And the story was my picture’s screenshot with the freaking caption:

"IT DOES, DARLING. IT REALLY DOES. DON’T WORRY, I’LL MAKE SURE TO USE SHIMMER NEXT TIME."

What the actual hell.

The man who never shows up on his own feed, whose entire social media is run by his PR or his younger brother, is now posting me.

No. No, Ritika, this has to be in your head.

What the hell is happening.

It’s not possible. How can this even be possible?

That man, that freaking husband of mine, still living in the 1950s when it comes to social media.

The one who prefers boring news channels and newspapers over X and Instagram.

The one who still lives on Facebook.

Is now posting my picture on his story.

My picture.

And more importantly, since when did this man start using Instagram?

Who even taught him that?

You idiot, my inner voice mocked me.

I did. But that man was so adamant, he always ignored it.

Then how was he using it now?

I was about to cry.

Then suddenly, something clicked in my head.

This man hadn’t spoken to me for the last month.

He had literally left the country in anger, and now he was supposedly posting my picture while sitting in some board meeting in Germany.

Impossible.

It had to be Abeer, covering up his brother’s grumpy nature.

Yes, it had to be Abeer, I told myself.

I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head.

My head snapped toward whoever was behind it.

Oh shit, I forgot that this bitch of a friend of mine was still in the room.

The one who gave me this freaking not-so-smart idea.

I’m going to kill her, I muttered to myself.

“You—” I started, but she cut me off.

“Just shut up, Riti. What the hell are you thinking?” she snapped.

I looked at her in confusion. What rubbish was she talking about?

“Maine kya galat socha?” I asked, confused.

“Nahi, aapne kuch galat nahi socha, mate. Aap to badi achhi cheezein soch rahi thi. Hain na?” she said sarcastically.

What the hell was she saying? I glared at her with a murderous look.

“Ghoor mat, samjhi. Kaun pagal sochta hai ki uska devar-cum-jija ji uske baare mein aisi ashleel Insta story daalega?” she said, smacking my head again and again.

How the hell did she know what I was thinking?

“You weren’t thinking in your head the moment you saw your husband’s Instagram story, darling. Apparently, you forgot how to think silently and said everything out loud.” She said and my eyes widened.

“WHAT?” I shouted in horror.

“I didn’t, did I? Tu mazaak kar rahi hai na?” I asked, practically begging her to say no.

But she smirked. Oh God, that smirk. I knew I was doomed.

“You did, babe. So your husband lives in the 1950s? You practically married an ancient?” she said, laughing like a maniac.

I threw a pillow at her to make her shut up. But she just laughed louder.

“Shut up,” I said groggily.

Because that man could be anything but ancient. Yes, he didn’t use social media like us. But he was perfect in every sense.

What the hell were you thinking, Ritika? Get a grip. Don’t forget the betrayals that came with that handsome face and perfect façade.

I scolded myself. Once, I had let myself become a fool, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

“Really? Then why are you sitting here in a shimmery dress, waiting for his response just a few minutes ago?” my inner voice mocked me.

I ignored it the same way Arshit had been ignoring me for the last month.

I wanted to do something, anything, that would make me forget about him.

What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t even go home right now. Because the moment I saw my children, thoughts of him would come rushing back.

Especially when I looked at the elder one.

Then there was only one thing left that could distract me from him.

Work.

So I drowned myself in it.

I was in a meeting with Mr. Petrov at his company. The meeting was important for the future of the company, yet my mind kept wandering back to the beauty with the mind of a beast sitting in India.

I had left after the tragic dinner that happened a month ago.

We all knew Rishika had anger issues, but that night… the way she reacted to Chandra Nani Sa wasn’t normal.

I didn’t know why my life was filled with dangerous women.

First, it was my grandmother. Then came Mrs. Rajvanshi. And just when I thought that was enough, life arranged, or rather forced, the most dangerous woman into my life, dressed in a black-and-white suit.

My wife, Ritika Singh Rajvanshi.

Then another hurricane entered our lives.

As if it felt less now one more had arrived from London, anger resting on her nose, knives tucked into her full-sleeved crop top, and a gun hidden in her boots.

I sighed and tried to focus on the meeting.

But then a notification popped up on my locked screen.

Ritika Singh Rajvanshi added a story.

For the first few seconds, I ignored it. But the urge to know what game she was playing now overpowered every thought of ignoring it.

I opened the purple app she had installed on my phone. The public account was open, but I owned a personal private account she didn’t even know about.

She was the one who had installed the app when she was completely whipped for me. God knows what happened to make her become like this.

The woman who once refused to celebrate her birthday without my presence or wishes now behaved as if I didn’t even exist on normal days.

The woman who had celebrated my first Instagram post as if I hadn’t just uploaded a picture, but had closed a million-dollar deal.

And now she was calling the ED just to destroy me, even knowing that in the process, she wouldn’t just destroy me but everything built by my grandfather and the elders before me.

Because the company wasn’t built by me.

I merely inherited what they gave me.

I’m not old or some ancient man who doesn’t know what social media is. I just never had the privilege of using it earlier.

There were always expectations attached to everything in my life. Studies, behavior, business, and the list went on.

And somewhere between all those responsibilities and expectations, I forgot how to live like people my age.

I knew this app my little angry bird called Instagram.

But madam had decided to rename it with some Korean name so it would match her phone aesthetic.

And I never dared to change it, because her changes were already enough for me to handle all these years.

Lost in my thoughts, I clicked on the pink circle on her profile.

And there she was.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The sound of people talking, the meeting, everything blurred into the background.

Because right there on the screen stood my wife in a shimmery golden dress, looking like some western goddess I wanted to worship.

Fuck, I cursed internally. This particular lawyer of mine would be the reason for my death one day.

I couldn’t risk losing control in the middle of a meeting at one of Russia’s biggest companies.

For a moment, I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply. Then I looked around to see if anyone had noticed the sudden change in my behavior or posture.

When I saw everyone was still focused on the meeting, I took a screenshot of the story, opened my public account, and posted it with the very first caption that came to my mind.

I didn’t know why I did that. But that little angry bird of mine always knew how to take over at the worst possible moments.

The thought of her wearing that dress in a club full of drunk idiots fueled the anger beneath my perfectly composed face.

Fuck. Just wait until we meet next, darling.

Lost in my own world of jealousy, I was pulled back when someone called me.

“Sir, Mr. Petrov was saying something,” my assistant said.

“Yes, Mr. Petrov,” I responded.

“Mr. Rajvanshi, I’m afraid Petrova Industries cannot proceed with the supply agreement,” Mr. Petrov said carefully. “The risk factor is too high for us at the moment.”

The entire room fell silent.

I leaned back in my chair, my expression calm enough to fool anyone who didn’t know me.

“Risk?” I repeated my voice steadier than necessary.

Mr. Petrov cleared his throat. “Your new automobile line is entering a highly competitive market. If the project fails, our company could face major losses. We cannot afford that.”

I slowly closed the file in front of me.

“And you think refusing Rajvanshi Automotives will protect your company from losses?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm.

The man stiffened.

“Mr. Petrov, let me make something very clear.” I folded my hands on the table. “You are not in a position to reject this deal. Because the moment Rajvanshi Automotives walks out of this room, every competitor you currently supply to will walk out with us.”

His face paled slightly.

“We own sixty percent of the market your company survives on,” I continued. “If I decide to pull my contracts, cancel future exports, and blacklist Petrova Industries from every partner company associated with us, your losses will not be in millions.”

I paused.

“They will be enough to bury this company beyond recovery.”

The room turned suffocatingly silent.

Even my own board members stayed quiet.

Mr. Petrov swallowed hard before forcing out a smile. “There’s no need to escalate matters, Mr. Rajvanshi.”

“Oh, I never escalate unnecessarily,” I replied smoothly. “But I do finish what people force me to start.”

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

Then finally, Mr. Petrov straightened in his seat and pushed the contract forward.

“Petrova Industries will cooperate with Rajvanshi Automotives,” he said quietly.

I gave a single nod. “Good choice.”

With that, I walked out without giving a damn, because I knew the reason for my presence here had ended.

If Mr. Petrov thought I would accept a no after staying away from my wife and my babies for one freaking month, then he clearly didn’t know Arshit Rajvanshi.

“Mrs. Pani, tell the pilot to ready the jet,” I instructed as she walked behind me along with the rest of our staff.

“But sir—” one of them tried to speak, but Mrs. Pani cut him off mid-sentence.

“Yes, sir. The jet will be ready on time. But you haven’t told me the timing yet,” Mrs. Pani said.

She knew me better than most people. Like the elder sister I never had.

“Early morning,” I replied before sliding into the car.

I was asleep when someone decided to disturb me early in the morning.

Who the hell had a death wish this early, Mahadev?

Without even opening my eyes, I received the call.

“Hmm…”

“Come to my room. Anku wants to talk about something,” I heard Shiv’s irritating voice from the other side.

“Early morning?” I asked annoyed.

“Yes.” And then he hung up.

I groaned loudly but woke up nevertheless. Because if the Shekhawats ever found out their not-so-innocent elder daughter was upset because of me or Shivansh, they wouldn’t think twice before throwing us out like garbage.

Yes, I was staying at the Shekhawat mansion.

The mansion that practically screamed warmth and affection.

I walked toward the washroom, and after freshening up, I changed into a fresh outfit before heading toward Shivansh’s room on the fifth floor.

I still didn’t understand his obsession with staying near the sky. Whether it was a hotel or his own house, the man always chose the top floor.

As I walked through the mansion, family members and house staff bowed their heads respectfully.

One of the cons of being a crowned prince, king, or simply part of a royal family.

Even when you don’t want people bowing before you, you can’t stop them. Not when they do it out of respect, manners, or loyalty.

India may have become a democratic country, but the respect royals carried was something time could never erase.

When I stopped outside Shiv’s room, I didn’t hear a single argument between those two. No screaming from Anku either.

God, did one of them die before I got here?

You might think I was being dramatic, but you wouldn’t understand the pain of growing up with these cousins and surviving their pointless arguments and nonstop screaming matches.

I barged into the room, my eyes scanning everything before I even stepped inside, because I was not in the mood to collect dead bodies this early in the morning.

And there they were. Almost half dead already.

Shivansh had a fistful of Ankita’s hair while Ankita was clutching both his throat and hair.

God, who would believe this woman was getting married in two weeks?

And who would believe this man had spent all night working for his favorite cousin’s wedding?

“Oh God. Not again, guys,” I groaned, dropping myself onto the nearest couch.

Both of them turned toward me immediately.

“It’s his fault this time.”

“It’s her fault this time.”

Here we go again with their pathetic blame game.

“Guys, please behave like humans, at least this early in the morning,” I muttered, rubbing my face tiredly.

Both of them finally sat down.

“And Anku madam, you’re the one getting married in two weeks, remember?” I reminded her, hoping it would shut this walking talkie up for once.

“Thank you, Yuvraj Sa. But let me remind you that I do remember I’m the one getting married. That’s exactly why I’m here, watching two grumpy faces this early in the morning,” she shot back sarcastically.

“What do you mean by that, young lady?” I asked, pointing a finger at her.

“That means I forgot to place the order for the groom’s sherwani with my designer,” she replied casually, finally getting to the point.

Wait.

What did she just say?

She forgot what?

“What?” Shivansh and I shouted at the same time.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath while we stared at her with wide eyes and jaws practically touching the floor.

She couldn’t be serious, right? I questioned myself.

Like who the hell forgets their own groom’s sherwani for their own wedding?

“I forgot, okay?” she said, as if she hadn’t just messed up big time.

And honestly, one day the Shekhawats’ habit of speaking so casually about disasters would be the reason for my death.

“And who the fuck forgets a sherwani? More importantly, why the hell did you even take responsibility for Manthan’s wedding sherwani?” Shivansh asked in disbelief.

Honestly, I had the exact same expression.

“I told him I had already dreamed about what he would wear at our wedding. That’s why he gave me the responsibility,” she said, lowering her head.

“Are you sure you love Manthan? Please tell us right now, because there’s still time to replace the groom before the wedding,” I said. Because there was no way I could trust this woman anymore.

“Exactly,” Shivansh agreed immediately.

“What the hell? I know I forgot about the sherwani, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know whom I love with all my heart. And it’s not funny,” she snapped angrily.

Why was she angry? If my words weren’t funny, then forgetting the groom’s sherwani wasn’t funny either.

“Okay, calm down, guys. Forget about your dream sherwani. We’ll buy a ready-made one from one of the biggest Indian designers,” Shivansh tried to calm the situation.

“No. I want the exact sherwani I imagined for Manthan,” she said stubbornly.

“And how exactly do you think that’s going to be made within two weeks?” I asked irritably, because there was no way she was thinking straight.

“That’s why I called you here. You’re the great Crowned Prince of Udaipur,” she said with that dangerous smirk of hers.

And God, her eyes were practically screaming danger for me.

“So?” I asked suspiciously.

“You’ll order the designer who’s currently designing my outfits. And I know that with one order from you, they’ll make it happen even if they have to die in the process,” she said with a smug smile, flipping her hair dramatically.

I gave her "Are serious?" Look.

“Please, please na, Dev bhai. Please,” she begged, giving me her best puppy eyes.

“Fine. But what about your sisters and their friends? They’re coming today, right?” I agreed, but asked anyway, because as far as I knew, Kritika, along with the very famous hidden princess of the Shekhawats and their friends, were arriving today for the wedding.

“I’ll tell Naksh to pick them up from the airport,” Shivansh said, getting up from his seat.

And I nearly choked.

Because those girls still hadn’t told their families about their whereabouts.

God save me.

“Okay then, we should get ready and meet your designer,” Shivansh said from inside the closet.

Both of us nodded before walking toward our rooms.

Since I was already showered and dressed, I simply entered my room, picked up my wallet and watch, and headed downstairs.

There, I ran into Aarohi Shekhawat, Shivansh’s mother.

She was the kind of woman who could make even demons feel motherly warmth. She wasn’t someone who compared children. She was someone who looked at every child with the affection most mothers failed to give.

“Good morning, Dev,” she said, walking toward me.

I bent to touch her feet and take her blessings, but like always, she stopped me and kissed my forehead, something my own mother had never done.

“Good morning, Aunty,” I greeted softly.

“Come have breakfast with us.”

“No, Aunty. Actually, there’s some work I need to attend to right now. I hope you won’t mind,” I replied.

And I regretted it the very next second when I saw her expression fall slightly.

“It’s okay, beta. If it’s important, then go. But don’t forget to eat your breakfast,” she said nevertheless, composing herself before caressing my cheek lovingly.

I waited for the cousin duo, and thankfully, they arrived a few minutes later.

But something in my heart kept warning me that something was about to happen.

I just hoped that whatever it was, it would bring at least a little peace and happiness with it.

I woke up and followed my usual morning routine, but something felt different today.

The smile on my face.

It’s not like I never smiled. It’s just that there were very few things in life that ever gave me a reason to.

And today was one of the biggest reasons.

After three whole months, I was finally going to meet Mom, Dad, and my bhaiyu.

Now you must be wondering, if we were going to the Shekhawat mansion, then how was I meeting my parents and brother there, right?

Well, let me tell you a short story.

There was once a little girl. Not some poor girl without a roof over her head or food to eat.

She was a princess born into a royal family.

But also a girl unfortunate enough to grow up without a father’s love, without a mother’s affection, without even a brother’s teasing or protection.

A girl abandoned emotionally by her own family since birth.

Then one day, she met another little girl her age who couldn’t even pronounce her name properly.

That little girl didn’t become her friend immediately. In fact, she rejected her handshake on the first day. But welcomed her into her home with open arms after six month.

Children are usually born with a mother and father are.

But that little girl understood what a mother truly felt like only when she stepped into her friend’s house and met her friend’s mother.

She called them Sir and Ma’am at first.

And they taught her what parental love actually felt like.

The little girl who had spent the first three years of her life hiding from elders slowly started laughing openly with a family she never knew she needed.

The girl who was too afraid to call her own father “Papa” called her friend’s father “Dad” without hesitation.

And instead of getting beaten for it, she found herself wrapped in an embrace she had never received before.

The girl who thought brothers meant silence and distance found a brother who nearly drowned trying to protect her when he himself was only seven years old.

Before meeting them, she truly believed she was cursed, just like her family had made her believe.

But after meeting them, she realized she was never cursed.

She was simply unlucky enough to be born into a family that treated her that way.

That little girl was me.

The girl who never received love from her own parents.

But instead found parents far better than any biological bond could ever give.

After Kitty and Ruha woke up, we cleaned the house together. We had lived there for a month, and leaving it messy didn’t feel right.

It was evening by the time we stood outside the same temple I used to visit every single day.

We hadn’t told our families about our India trip. But when Bhaiyu informed us that someone else would be coming to pick us up, we made a small change in our plan.

Earlier, we were supposed to go directly to the airport, where Bhaiyu would pick us up himself.

But now, Kitty got texted from Bhaiyu that the someone else was coming to pick us up from here instead.

I just hoped it wouldn’t land us in some kind of trouble.

We were waiting when a man dressed in a tracksuit and T-shirt walked toward us.

Why did he look familiar? Like I had seen him somewhere before?

“Hello, Ms. Shekhawat. I’m Naksh Sharma. Shivansh bhaiya sent me to pick you and your friends up,” he introduced himself while shaking hands with Kitty.

“Hello, Mr. Sharma. I’m Kirtika Shekhawat, as you already know. Let me introduce you to them,” Kitty said, gesturing toward us.

Then his eyes landed on me. And something flickered in them.

“You.”

Wait… had we actually met before?

Shit. Why couldn’t I remember

“You know her?” Ruha asked suspiciously, glaring at me.

I gulped and looked at the man.

“Yes. We met at this temple a month ago.”

My eyes widened. He was the same masked man.

But his physique looked completely different now.

Shut up, Ishvika. Look at the surroundings before your stupid brain starts imagining nonsense, I scolded myself internally.

“So you’re the temple jerk,” my friends said in unison.

Now it was his turn to widen his eyes.

“No, no. If you think the one who spoke rudely to your friend was me, then please don’t. That was my boss, not me,” he blurted out fearfully.

Ruha and Kitty narrowed their eyes at him suspiciously.

“Guys, we’re getting late. And I think he’s telling the truth,” I interrupted quickly, trying to ease the tension.

Naksh bhaiya shot me a grateful look.

“Fine. Mr. Sharma, first let me introduce you to the very infamous princess of the Shekhawats. You must’ve heard about her, right?” Kitty asked with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes while Ruha smirked beside her.

The poor man gulped before nodding nervously.

“So, meet her. Ishvika. Our infamous princess.”

Naksh bhaiya’s eyes widened as he scanned me from head to toe and then back again.

“Sorry, ma’am, if I ever did something wrong,” was the first thing he said after composing himself.

God, the man looked genuinely terrified.

I glared at the two devils standing beside me, clearly satisfied with his helplessness.

“It’s okay, bhaiya. And don’t apologize for something you never did,” I reassured him, trying to ease his fear a little.

“And this is our friend… well, best friend, Ruhanika Raghuvanshi,” Kitty introduced Ruha, who extended her hand for a handshake.

I did too.

But instead of shaking my hand, he folded his hands politely, as if touching my hand would personally end his life.

After all the introductions, we finally left for the Shekhawat mansion.

I won’t lie, I was a little nervous.

Don’t misunderstand. I was excited too. It was just my first time visiting their Udaipur mansion.

I had already met their huge family before, but weddings always came with relatives you’d never seen in your life.

And honestly, I was scared about how they would react to me.

“If you’re overthinking about some unemployed relatives and their opinions, then let me tell you this, Miss Ishvika. No one dares point a finger at my sister inside my house and walk away,” Kitty said, reading my mind perfectly.

“And even if they do manage to walk away,” Ruha added with a dangerous smirk, “they’ll have to face the warmth of Ruhanika Raghuvanshi before they ever face the Shekhawats.”

I gave them a small smile.

After an hour-long drive, we finally reached the grand Shekhawat mansion.

The entire mansion glowed under the night sky, covered in beautiful lights.

And standing near the entrance was the whole Shekhawat family.

My eyes filled with unshed tears the moment I saw Mom and Dad.

Before I could even react, Kitty ran toward them shouting, “Mumma! Papa!”

Mom and Dad immediately pulled her into their embrace like they hadn’t seen her in years.

Dad kissed her forehead while Mom hugged her tightly again.

The moment was so pure and filled with love that nothing in this world could compare to it.

Then Kitty rushed toward Dadi and Dadu.

That was when Mom signaled for us to come closer.

I hugged Dad first while Ruha hugged Mom.

Dad pulled me into a tight embrace, and I closed my eyes as his warmth silently washed away every bit of exhaustion and fear inside me.

Without saying a word, he caressed my hair before kissing the top of my head.

“Haan haan, saara pyaar sirf apni Mom-Dad nu hi dena si. Iss buddhi Dadi nu taan koi puchhda hi nahi.”Dadi complained dramatically in Punjabi.

I smiled before moving toward Mom and hugging her tightly.

The moment she wrapped her arms around me, I felt alive again.

God… how much I had missed this.

Then I turned toward our drama queen, Dadi.

I didn’t touch her feet because,

according to her strict Punjabi rules, no girl in the family was allowed to do that.

So instead, I hugged her tightly and shook her slightly just to annoy her.

“You want to kill me, young lady?” she complained while patting my back.

“Nope. I just wanted to show you how swinging feels,” I teased knowingly.

“Badmaash,” she muttered while pulling away from the hug.

I moved toward Dadu next and hugged him too, and he blessed me just as enthusiastically.

Then I met Anki di’s parents, who were just as warm and loving as Mom and Dad.

They welcomed us with so much affection that for a moment, I wondered if I would ever be welcomed by my own Rajvanshi family like this.

We spent the evening eating our favorite snacks made by Dad and Anki di’s father.

And let me tell you something, if the women of the Shekhawat family were the modern form of Annapurna, then the men of the family were no less.

It was late, almost dinner time. Since the three of us had already eaten earlier, we skipped dinner.

Bhaiyu wasn’t home because he was out of Udaipur for some reason. Ankita di had gone with him along with his friend.

So we had nothing else to do except gossip with the family members.

Well… mostly Kitty was gossiping while Ruha and I simply listened. That chatterbox could talk to relatives as if she had been born and raised with them.

That was when Ankita di’s mother handed us a few lehengas for a fit check.

We headed toward our respective rooms to try them on.

And let me tell you, every single lehenga was perfect. The fitting, the design, everything.

I won’t describe them right now though. Let the suspense for each function stay alive.

After showing Mom the fitting, I walked back into my room and started changing.

That was when I heard the sound of water running from the bathroom.

I frowned immediately because I clearly remembered not turning the tap on.

Then why was there water running inside my bathroom?

Just then, the bathroom door unlocked.

I turned sharply toward the person who had the audacity to enter my room and use my washroom without permission.

And my eyes widened.

My mouth literally fell open when I saw him.

Because the man hadn’t just entered my room without permission.

He stood there wearing nothing except a towel wrapped around his waist.

Water droplets slid from his damp hair down to his sculpted chest and those ridiculously defined abs that honestly looked sinful.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

My breath hitched as the droplets disappeared beneath the towel.

My eyes shamelessly followed them. Then my gaze moved to his face.

His sharp jawline looked illegal at that moment. And those black-amber eyes pierced straight through me, sending shivers down my spine.

His beard wasn’t too long or completely clean-shaven either. Just enough to make his sharp features look unfairly handsome.

Then he smirked.

And that smirk nearly made my knees give up on me.

Fuck.

He had caught me staring at his half-naked body like an absolute idiot.

Heat rushed to my cheeks instantly.

He started walking toward me slowly, intensely, exactly like those dramatic scenes from movies where the hero corners the heroine.

I stepped backward with every step he took forward.

And then I fell onto the bed with a soft thud, bouncing slightly from the impact.

Now his eyes were tracing me the same shameless way mine had traced him moments ago.

Then he leaned down, placing both hands on either side of me.

His breath fanned across my skin, sending goosebumps all over my body.

Embarrassed and suddenly weak under his gaze, I closed my eyes for a second.

“Trust me… this isn’t a position you want to be in while looking at me like that, Miss Red Nose,” he said in a husky voice so deep it made my stomach twist.

My eyes widened as his words finally registered.

And then I followed his gaze.

Boom.

Because at that moment, I was standing there wearing nothing except my lehenga skirt and bra.

Heat exploded across my face, and I shut my eyes again in embarrassment.

A second later, I heard the door close.

How the hell had I forgotten what condition I was in while standing in front of an actual male species?