Lucky69

  “Five… Four… Three… Come on, bro, just two more… you can do it,” I said, my voice steady but firm. The man lying on the bench beneath me gripped the iron rod as if his life depended on it, his arms trembling as he struggled to push it up. The weight wasn’t extraordinary—two 10 kg ptes on each side. For some, it might’ve been a warm-up. For him, it was a battle.

  I stood over his head, my hands hovering just beneath the barbell, ready to catch it if his strength gave out. His face was red, jaw clenched tight as he paused, trying to summon the st reserves of energy in his body.

  “Almost there…” I encouraged, but I could tell he was at his limit. With a final, desperate push, he gritted his teeth and tried to raise the bar. It didn’t budge. The rod wavered dangerously in his hands before his arms buckled.

  I caught it just in time, steadying the weight and guiding it safely back to the rack. “This,” I said, looking down at him with a smirk, “is exactly why I used to tell you to join me at the gym all those years ago. But no—back then, you were more interested in books and extra csses than barbells.”

  He let out a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in, why don’t you?” he muttered, his voice dripping with exhaustion.

  “Don’t worry.” I grabbed his towel from the nearby bench and tossed it onto his sweaty face. “Now you’ve got me in your corner. I’ll turn you into a bodybuilding freak in no time.”

  He yanked the towel off his head and gred at me, his hair pstered to his forehead from sweat. “Fuck you,” he grumbled, wiping his face and neck.

  I couldn’t help but ugh. “You’ll thank me ter.”

  He sat up on the bench, still catching his breath, and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Tell me it’s over,” he said, his voice a mix of hope and desperation.

  I crossed my arms and leaned slightly against the barbell rack, tilting my head as I studied him. His face was pale, his energy completely drained. He looked like he’d just run a marathon while carrying a boulder.

  “Almost,” I said calmly, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile. “Just two more sets, and we’re done.”

  His expression shifted from hope to despair in an instant. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands.

  “Come on, man,” I said, cpping him on the back. “You’ll thank me for this ter. Progress doesn’t happen overnight, but it doesn’t happen at all if you quit now. Two more sets—that’s it. You got this.”

  He looked up at me with a mixture of frustration and reluctant determination. “You’re a sadist, you know that?”

  “Call me whatever you want,” I said with a shrug. “Just get back on the bench.”

  He sighed heavily but stood up and stretched his arms, groaning as he did. “Fine. But if I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

  “It will make me really sad, but since you’re my best friend, I promise to take care of your wife, Aisha, in your stead,” I shot back, grinning.

  He froze mid-stretch, eyes narrowing as he turned to gre at me. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, his voice dripping with mock outrage.

  “What?” I asked innocently, spreading my hands. “I’m just saying someone’s gotta look after her. You know, help her move on. Be a shoulder to cry on. That kind of thing.”

  “You’re such a dick,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  I ughed, leaning back against the barbell rack. “Rex, bro. You’re not going anywhere. Not on my watch. Now stop stalling and get back on the bench.”

  He hesitated, still gring at me, but the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was fighting back a smile. “You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to kick your ass right now.”

  “Lucky? Nah,” I said, smirking. “You’re just too weak to do anything about it.”

  Just then, a sweet voice interrupted, “What are you boys fighting about now?”

  We both turned to see Aisha walking toward us, her athletic frame accentuated by tight leggings and a sports top that revealed her toned midriff. She stood about 5’5”, with curves that seemed sculpted by years of dedication to the gym. Her figure—32, 24, 36—turned heads wherever she went. It was obvious to anyone that she had worked hard to maintain her body, and it showed in the way she carried herself—confident yet approachable.

  “Aisha…! Hey…!” I called out, quickly recovering. “We were just talking about how Rehan is going to do two more sets.”

  I turned to Rehan, who was already lying back on the bench and grabbing the iron rod, avoiding her gaze. I smirked. “Isn’t that right, Rehan?”

  Rehan groaned, lifting his head just enough to shoot me a death gre. “Yep. Two more. Can’t wait.”

  Aisha raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but amused. “You boys are something else,” she says, shaking her head as she grabs a water bottle from the nearby bench.

  This is a normal morning for the three of us. We have known each other since we were kids, growing up in the same neighborhood, studying in the same school, and attending the same college. We are an inseparable trio.

  The man struggling under the iron rod is my best friend, Rehan, who is more like a brother to me. He is the nerdy type—the top student in our css and a top achiever in life as well. He starts at the very bottom but always ends up in the top three in school and college. Today, he is a successful CA. But the best part? He is married to the most beautiful girl I know, Aisha.

  Who is Aisha? She is the one sitting on the bench, sipping from her water bottle. She is the definition of beauty—raven silky hair, smooth white skin, and a toned body with just the perfect amount of body fat. But you know what the worst part is?

  She’s the love of my life…

  “So, want me to give you a piggyback ride home?” I teased Rehan as we walked toward the parking lot.

  Aisha couldn’t hold back her giggle, covering her mouth as she tried not to ugh too loudly. Rehan, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to murder me on the spot.

  “Enough, you guys!” Aisha finally intervened, stepping in like a referee to mediate the situation.

  Before Rehan could retort, Aisha turned to me with a warm smile. “Vikram, don’t forget—dinner’s at our pce tonight. Be on time!”

  “Sure, I remember,” I replied, reaching for my Royal Enfield. I gave it a quick rev before gncing back at them. “See you in the evening.”

  They got into their Maruti Dzire, and as I rode off, I couldn’t help but watch them disappear down the road.

  My pce was just a 10-minute ride from theirs. The apartment they lived in now? It was owned by me.

  Yes, you heard that right. I own the pce. Not just that apartment, but the one I’m currently living in and several other properties scattered across the city.

  Oh, I totally forgot to introduce myself. Let me start from the beginning.

  My name is Vikram Khurana. I’m the textbook definition of a second-generation rich kid. But my life hasn’t been as easy as you might think. I lost both my parents when I was very young, and I was raised by my uncle and his family on my father’s side.

  I could have gone to one of the best schools in the city, but my uncle decided to put me in an average private school instead. The environment in his house wasn’t great either. He had a nasty temper and hit me often, though he always made sure the bruises weren’t visible to others.

  He had two daughters— the first one was two years older than me and another one was a year younger. And, as the saying goes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Both of them were just like their father—always bullying me and finding new ways to make my life miserable.

  Growing up, I became very insecure, filled with self-doubt, and completely cking in confidence. That’s when I met her—Aisha.

  She was in my css, but we had never interacted before. But it all changed when I saw her at the medical store her father owned. His pharmacy was near the apartment I lived in with my uncle’s family.

  The first time she saw me, she approached me. I’ll never forget that moment. She had this warmth about her, this brightness that made it impossible to stay in the shadows. She didn’t stop there, either. She started talking to me at school, her kindness unwavering. And through her, I met Rehan.

  Rehan lived in the same neighborhood as Aisha. His family’s apartment was modest, just a 10-minute walk from my pce.

  The three of us started hanging out more, and over time, we became inseparable. They were both brilliant students—always at the top of the css—and they helped me with my studies when I struggled.

  But it wasn’t just academics that brought us together. Both Aisha and Rehan knew about the abuse I endured at the hands of my uncle. I had confided in them one evening, my voice trembling as I shared the dark secrets I had kept hidden for so long. Their reactions were immediate—Aisha's eyes filled with concern, while Rehan’s face turned to stone, a mix of anger and sympathy.

  From that day on, Aisha took it upon herself to care for me in ways I never expected. Whenever I came over with bruises or marks from my uncle’s temper, she would insist on putting medicine on them, her touch gentle and soothing. I would sit on the edge of her bed, feeling vulnerable and exposed as she applied ointment, her fingers brushing over my skin with a tenderness that made me feel safe.

  “Just a little more,” she would say, her voice soft, her brow furrowed in concentration. “You have to take care of yourself, Vikram. You deserve better.”

  It was during those moments that I felt the weight of my pain lift, if only slightly. Aisha’s compassion gave me hope. I knew I had found allies who would stand by me, no matter what darkness I faced at home. Rehan, too, vowed to support me, offering his strength in whatever way I needed. Together, they became my sanctuary, providing a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of my life.

  As the years passed, I slowly started to regain my confidence. But everything changed when I reached high school. My grandparents from my mother’s side found out about the abuse I’d endured at the hands of my uncle.

  It was only much ter that my grandparents told me that it had been Rehan and Aisha who tipped them off about my uncle’s abuse. They had taken help from our cssroom teacher, who checked the details of my parents and then found out about my grandparents. I felt incredibly lucky to have them in my life.

  They acted swiftly, taking me away from him and his toxic household. That’s when I learned the truth—my parents had been incredibly well-off, and they’d left behind a fortune in my name. My uncle had been misusing that money, ciming it was for raising me, while he and his family lived comfortably.

  My mother had been in real estate, and she owned multiple properties, all of which were now mine. My father had left behind a successful business, which my uncle had been siphoning off for years.

  My grandparents wanted me to move in with them, but after finally gaining my freedom, I wanted to live on my own. They respected my wishes and set me up with a personal manager, Ritu, to handle my assets and business until I was ready to take over.

  Ritu was my grandparents’ personal assistant and someone I came to deeply trust. She had lost her husband and children in an accident, and now dedicated her life to her work. She became my go-to person, my guide when I needed help navigating life.

  As a teenager, I wanted to build my own castle, so I chose one of my mother’s apartments and made it my home. It was a three room apartment. When we reached college, I asked Rehan to move in with me. He was thrilled. His house was small, and with three siblings, it was difficult for him to focus on his studies. So he moved immediately. The three of us spent most of our time together at my pce.

  Aisha, being the nurturing soul she was, took care of the house. She loved to cook, and she made our shared space feel like a home.

  I didn’t want to go to college initially, but I had one reason to go—Aisha. While Rehan and Aisha focused on their studies, I was building up on my self confidence, so I poured my energy into the gym and learned the ins and outs of my father’s business. I even convinced the two of them to join the gym with me. Well, I was half successful.

  Time passed, and we grew up. Rehan became a successful CA. Aisha became a fitness influencer with over 301K Instagram followers, her niche rooted in fitness and diet. And I slowly started taking over the business my father had left behind.

  I thought I had all the time in the world to confess my feelings for Aisha. But I was wrong.

  She proposed to Rehan.

  Yes, you heard that right—she proposed to him. When I found out, all I could do was be happy for them.

  I moved out of the apartment and gave it to them as a gift. It was the pce where they first confessed their love for each other, after all. I got myself another apartment, just a 10-minute ride from theirs.

  And now, here I am, riding my Royal Enfield back to my pce, thinking about dinner at their home tonight. Thinking about the life I have, the friends I love, and the one thing I can never have.

  The dinner at their pce was nice. At least, it started as a pleasant evening. Rehan had cooked his famous butter chicken, and Aisha had whipped up a fresh sad with her signature homemade dressing. We ughed, shared stories, and reminisced about old times. It was the kind of evening that reminded me why I cherished these two so much.

  But then came the bottle of scotch.

  Rehan poured the first round, a mischievous grin on his face. “One drink isn’t going to hurt anyone,” he said, raising his gss.

  “One drink?” I scoffed. “You’re the same guy who can’t handle more than two shots before passing out.”

  Aisha ughed, shaking her head at us. “You boys never change.”

  The night spiraled from there. Gsses were refilled, stories became louder, and jokes turned cruder. Rehan was the first to tap out, slurring his words as he stumbled to the couch and promptly passed out.

  That left just Aisha and me.

  We sat on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against our skin as we sipped the st remnants of scotch from our gsses. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and for a moment, everything felt calm.

  “So,” she said, breaking the silence, “what’s next for Vikram Khurana? Any big pns?”

  I leaned back in my chair, swirling the amber liquid in my gss. “Same old. Expanding the business, hitting the gym, trying not to screw things up too much.”

  She smiled, her eyes soft as she looked at me. “You know, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve come such a long way, Vikram. You should be proud of yourself.”

  I shrugged, trying to py it cool, but her words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. “Thanks,” I said quietly, looking down at my gss.

  Moments passed in silence—the kind of silence that feels heavy, charged. I gnced at her, and she was already looking at me, her expression unreadable.

  “I should probably head back,” I said, setting my gss down and standing up.

  But before I could move, she reached out and grabbed my hand. “Wait,” she said softly.

  I froze, my heart thudding in my chest.

  “Vikram…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s the scotch or… or something else, but…”

  Her words trailed off, and before I realized what was happening, her face was inches from mine. Her dark eyes searched mine, as if looking for an answer to a question she hadn’t asked.

  And then, suddenly, her lips were on mine.

  They were soft, tasting faintly of cherries and scotch. My mind screamed at me to stop, to pull away, but my body betrayed me. I kissed her back, my hands instinctively moving to her waist.

  For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Nothing else mattered—just her, just this moment.

  But then reality crashed down around me.

  I pulled back, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. “Aisha,” I said, my voice shaky, “we… we can’t do this.”

  She looked at me, her expression filled with a mix of confusion, guilt, and something else I couldn’t quite pce. “I… I don’t know what came over me,” she said, stepping back and running a hand through her hair.

  I turned away, staring out at the city lights as I tried to steady myself. “We’ve both had too much to drink,” I said, my voice barely audible. “Let’s just… forget this ever happened.”

  She nodded, though she didn’t say anything. The silence between us was deafening.

  “I should go,” I said finally, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door.

  “Vikram,” she called out as I reached the doorway.

  I stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “Please don’t hate me,” she said, her voice trembling.

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before responding. “I could never hate you, Aisha.”

  And with that, I walked out into the night, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me like a thousand bricks.

  What had I just done?

  For the next few days, I started to avoid them. I wasn’t sure how to face Rehan after what had happened between me and Aisha. The guilt gnawed at me constantly, a heavy weight pressing on my chest. I even skipped the gym, something I never missed, not even on my worst days.

  I didn’t hear back from Aisha after that night. Maybe she was avoiding me too. It was Rehan who eventually called to check up on me. “Everything okay, bro?” he asked, his voice ced with concern.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I lied, forcing a casual tone. “Just swamped with some work. You know how it is.”

  He didn’t push further, which was a relief, but the guilt only deepened after that call.

  By the fourth day, I was still avoiding them when I got a call from Ritu. “Vikram, where are those documents I asked you to keep safe? I need them urgently,” she said, her tone brisk.

  I assured her I’d find them and started rummaging through my cabinet, going through every drawer and folder. But no matter how thoroughly I searched, the documents were nowhere to be found.

  That’s when a thought struck me—did I leave them in my old apartment? The apartment Rehan and Aisha now lived in. I was pretty sure I had packed everything when I moved out, but the nagging possibility wouldn’t leave my mind.

  The problem wasn’t just the documents. It was the fact that I’d have to go back to their apartment. Back to where Aisha was.

  To avoid seeing her, I decided to call Rehan first. He didn’t pick up.

  “Shit, where the fuck are you, man?” I muttered under my breath, pacing around my living room.

  Reluctantly, I called Aisha instead. Her phone rang… and rang… but she didn’t pick up either.

  My frustration grew. Ritu wouldn’t have called unless it was something urgent, so I had no choice. I had to find those documents. I had to go back to the apartment and face Aisha. After all, I couldn’t avoid her forever.

  I grabbed my jacket and bike keys and shoved them into my pocket. That’s when I felt something cold and metallic brush against my fingers. I pulled it out—it was a key.

  “It’s their apartment key! Did I accidentally grab this that night?” I thought to myself, staring at it for a moment. The memory of that evening flickered in my mind, and I quickly pushed the thought away.

  Determined to get this over with, I hopped on my Royal Enfield and headed toward their apartment.

  When I reached their door, I tried calling Rehan again. Still no answer. I attempted to call Aisha once more. Still nothing.

  “Did they go out somewhere? But they usually tell me about it…” I muttered, standing there uncertainly.

  After a moment of hesitation, I pulled out the key. I couldn’t wait any longer—I had to find those documents.

  Sliding the key into the lock, I opened the door and stepped inside. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

  The main hall was empty, but Aisha’s phone sat on the coffee table. I picked it up and noticed five missed calls—all from me.

  I pced the phone back down and walked toward my old study room. The familiar space still looked untouched, like a time capsule of the life I once had there. The furniture, the locker, even the bookshelves—all remained in their original pces.

  I opened the drawers of the desk and, to my relief, found the documents in the first compartment. I grabbed them quickly, ready to leave the apartment and get out of there.

  But then I heard a noise.

  It was faint, coming from the master bedroom.

  I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. I should have left right then and there. I should have walked out and pretended I didn’t hear anything.

  But curiosity got the best of me.

  Before I realized it, I was standing in front of the master bedroom door, my hand resting on the doorknob.

  I hesitated, my mind screaming at me to stop. But something inside me urged me forward. Slowly, I turned the knob and gently nudged the door open.

  What I saw next left me utterly speechless.

  To be continued...