Madhurima stood near the school gate, watching her daughter walk inside.
Kotha kept turning back, waving goodbye again and again, a bright, lively smile on her face.
The girl was cheerful by nature. Despite carrying so much pain in her life, she had never complained—not even once. She bonded easily with everyone, loved people effortlessly.
Madhurima often wondered how her daughter could be so different from her.
Who is she like?
Her father?
More than once, Madhurima had tried to recall whether Kotha's nature resembled any of her past customers.
Before Kotha was conceived, Madhurima had slept with countless men. Back then—fifteen years ago—she had been so deeply addicted to drugs that she would sleep with anyone in exchange for them. Often, in her intoxicated haze, she couldn't even remember who she had been with.
That was why she never knew who Kotha's father was.
Madhurima still remembered the moment she realized she was pregnant—how she had cursed the unknown man endlessly in her mind.
Yet now, she sometimes thought that bastard had done the greatest good of her life by giving her Kotha.
Without her daughter, Madhurima would probably have died long ago.
---
After dropping Kotha at school, Madhurima got into an auto-rickshaw.
The bitter incidents from the morning still echoed in her ears, but she remained silent, pulled out her phone, and checked the time.
The auto stopped beside 8th Street, in front of a polished signboard that read "Velvet Lounge"—one of the city's well-known cocktail bars.
In daylight, the neon lights outside looked dull and lifeless. But the moment she stepped inside, it was a different world—dim lighting, smoke-laced air, and soft jazz playing in the background.
This was where Madhurima's working life began.
A place where beauty of the body and manipulation of emotions were used to hold a customer's attention.
The moment she entered the bar, her expression changed—gentle smile, sparkling eyes, sweet flirtation on her lips, even if curses brewed inside her mind.
Heads turned as she walked in—some deliberately, some unconsciously.
Beautiful things inevitably attract attention. That was nature's rule.
Customers whispered among themselves:
"Did you see her? So beautiful… the way she walks is intoxicating."
Other staff members watched her with envy. Wherever Madhurima went, jealousy followed.
She entered the staff room and sat in front of the dressing table, inspecting her makeup carefully once more.
Just then, Tanushree smirked and said,
"So? Dropped your daughter at school?"
Tanushree knew exactly how to provoke her. It was her habit.
Madhurima thought, One more word from this woman and I might break her face.
Tanushree continued,
"You know, your daughter is even prettier than you. Why don't you bring her to the bar someday? The boss would be so happy at you."
Madhurima snapped.
Tanushree immediately backed off in fear.
At that moment, Miss Dola entered.
"Are you going out?" she asked Madhurima. "The customers are waiting."
"How many times do I have to tell you to keep Tanushree away from me?" Madhurima snapped.
"What did I do now?" Tanushree protested.
"Stay away from her," Miss Dola warned.
Tanushree scoffed.
"Oh please! You get angry over nothing. When you steal my customers, do I throw tantrums?"
Madhurima was about to respond, but Miss Dola cut her off.
"Enough. Your temper is becoming a problem. Last time you slapped a customer in rage."
Tanushree covered her mouth, laughing.
"I did the right thing," Madhurima said coldly. "That bastard deserved it."
Miss Dola glared.
"If you keep this up, things will get worse for you. Beauty alone doesn't keep customers—it takes sweet words too."
"No," Madhurima replied bitterly. "I know men well. For them, a body is enough."
Before Miss Dola could respond, Madhurima walked out.
Tanushree laughed again.
Miss Dola slapped her hard across the face.
"Don't provoke her again. She's one of the boss's favorites."
---
Madhurima worked six days a week—three day shifts, three night shifts.
Today was a day shift.
She stepped onto the floor immediately.
The afternoon crowd consisted mostly of corporate men on lunch break—shirt buttons undone, beer glasses in hand.
She approached their table with a warm smile.
"Sir, we have a new cocktail today. Would you like to try it?"
Her voice carried such sweetness that the two men exchanged glances and nodded.
As she poured the drinks, she leaned forward slightly. The neckline of her dress shifted subtly.
The reaction in their eyes was unmistakable.
She knew this gaze was her currency.
A man in his fifties, silver hair, expensive watch, signaled her from across the room.
She walked over and sat beside him.
"Your smile is dangerous," he said, looking straight into her eyes.
Madhurima smiled faintly.
"Dangerous things are always addictive."
Their conversation flowed. Sometimes her fingers brushed his hand, sometimes she laughed softly, holding his gaze.
When his glass emptied, he leaned close and whispered,
"I want to spend the evening alone with you. Is that possible?"
She paused, lowered her eyes, then looked up again.
"Only if you intend to fill me with love."
By love, she meant money.
He understood.
"Just say yes," he murmured.
She stood up slowly.
"I'll let you know after my shift. For now, let me get you another drink."
She was careful with this game. She didn't offer it to everyone.
Truthfully, she no longer enjoyed this part of her work.
At most, having sex was four times a month—never more.
Most days, she preferred to serve drinks, flirt lightly, and go home.
She didn't want to go to bed with them.
But some men paid in one night what she earned in an entire month.
And walking away from such offers was never easy.
Her daughter's school expenses were rising.
Loans.
Saving for a new apartment.
She wanted a fresh start—somewhere no one knew her past.
And now that she knew a criminal had moved into the neighboring apartment, she was determined to leave as soon as possible.
Balancing the tray in her hands, Madhurima moved toward another table—smiles, flirtation, toasts continuing as usual.
But inside her mind, calculations ran quietly.
Tonight might be profitable.
---
To be continued…