He makes Sakshi familiarise herself with his smell

“Are you insane?” Sakshi demanded, still coughing. “You can’t just go around spraying people with—whatever that is!”

“Maybe,” Allen replied, his voice calm, almost casual now. “But I’ve got a question for you, Sakshi. Are you still bothered by how I smell?”

Sakshi paused mid-cough, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear her thoughts. “What?” she asked, her tone uncertain. “Of course, I am. You smell awful. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Allen nodded, studying her carefully. The instructions had said something about melting inhibitions. “If you’re so bothered,” he said slowly, “would you do something about it?”

“What?” Sakshi blinked again, confusion and irritation mixing on her face. “I… I guess I would,” she said after a moment, her voice lacking the sharp edge it usually carried. “But what does that have to do with—”

“Good,” Allen cut her off, his confidence growing. “Then you should wash my clothes. The ones I’m wearing right now.”

Sakshi’s eyes widened. “What? No! That’s ridiculous. I’m not—”

“Come on,” Allen pressed, his voice soft yet insistent. “You just said you’d do something about it. If it bothers you that much, you should help. Right?”

Sakshi hesitated, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to form a coherent argument but couldn’t quite manage. Her brows knit together, and her hands fidgeted with the helm of her hoodie. “I mean… I guess… but it’s not…” she stammered, her resolve clearly faltering.

Allen took a step closer, lowering his voice. “It’s just a few clothes, Sakshi. You’re right here, and it’s not like you’re busy. Think about how much better the hallway will smell after you’re done. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

Sakshi bit her lip, the conflict plain on her face. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Fine,” she muttered, almost to herself. “I’ll wash your stupid clothes.”

Allen’s lips twitched into a grin as he began unbuttoning his shirt. So, this is how it works, he thought, watching Sakshi’s reaction. She looked mildly horrified but didn’t move to stop him.

“Great,” he said, pulling off his shirt and handing it to her. “Let’s get started.”

Sakshi kept her distance as Allen followed her deeper into the apartment, his bare chest exposed after handing over his shirt. She didn’t look back at him, her posture stiff and shoulders tense. The bottle of perfume was still in his hand, and Allen could see her glancing at it nervously every now and then.

When they reached the small laundry nook tucked into the corner of the kitchen, Sakshi tossed the shirt into the washing machine with more **** than necessary. Her movements were sharp, almost defiant, as if trying to reassert her usual confidence.

“There,” she said briskly, dusting her hands as though the act of touching his clothes required cleansing. “Now, I’ll—”

“Wait,” Allen interrupted, his voice cutting through her words like a knife.

Sakshi froze, her hand hovering over the machine’s buttons. She turned to him slowly, a mixture of irritation and caution etched across her face. “What now?”

Allen tilted his head, studying her like he was considering something deeply. “How do you know it’s dirty?”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering in her dark eyes. “What are you talking about? It’s your shirt, Allen. It reeks. I don’t need to—”

“Exactly,” Allen said, a sly smile creeping across his lips. He leaned against the wall, twirling the bottle in his hand absentmindedly. “It smells bad, sure. But how will you know if you’ve cleaned it properly?”

“What?” Sakshi asked, her voice rising.

“I mean,” Allen continued, his tone calm, almost conversational, “how will you know if you’ve done a good job unless you compare? A before-and-after sniff test. That’s the only way to be sure, right?”

Sakshi blinked, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words came out. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the machine, and Allen could see her mind racing. “That’s ridiculous,” she finally said, her voice weaker than before.

“Is it?” Allen pressed, his tone taking on an almost casual curiosity. “You already agreed to wash it. And you did say you wanted the hallway to smell better. Doesn’t it make sense to do the job properly?”

Sakshi’s mouth opened again, then closed. Her grip on the machine slackened as she let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine,” she muttered, reaching into the machine to retrieve the shirt. “But this is insane.”

Allen said nothing, watching intently as she held the shirt at arm’s length. Her face twisted in disgust as she slowly brought it closer to her nose. The moment the fabric reached her face, her expression contorted, and she gagged, pulling back as though she’d been struck.

“God, that’s awful!” she exclaimed, coughing into her sleeve.

“See? Now you know,” Allen said with a faint grin.

Sakshi shot him a glare, muttering something under her breath as she tossed the shirt back into the machine. She looked visibly shaken, her movements slightly less steady.

But Allen wasn’t done.

“Alright, next one,” he said, already reaching for the waistband of his pants.

“What?!” Sakshi’s head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with alarm.

Allen ignored her protests, slipping out of his pants and handing them over. He stood there in his boxers, holding the garment out with an expectant look. “Come on, same process. You agreed, remember?”

Sakshi hesitated, her hands hovering in the air like she was debating whether to take the pants or bolt out of the room. Finally, with a muttered curse, she snatched them from his hands.

Her **** was palpable as she lifted the pants to her face. This time, she didn’t even try to hide the grimace that overtook her features. Her body stiffened, her lips pressed tightly together, but she followed through, taking a quick, shallow whiff before recoiling.

“Happy?” she snapped, her voice shaky as she threw the pants into the machine.

“Not yet,” Allen replied, reaching for his socks.

Sakshi’s face paled. “You can’t be serious—”

“Come on,” Allen interrupted, holding up one sock like a trophy. “You’re already halfway there. It’s just a sock.”

Sakshi stared at him, her mouth opening as if to argue, but her words faltered. Her movements were sluggish now, her resistance clearly eroding with each interaction.

Reluctantly she brought the sock close to her face before coughing violently as she fell to her knees. “I can’t, I can’t do this” she said between coughs.

“Oh yes you can!” Allen said as he took his other sock and shoved it into Sakshi’s unsuspecting face.

“NO! NO! N-” Sakshi struggled under Allen’s weight almost as if she was being ****. He stopped only once Sakshi lay sprawled across the floor, resigned to her fate. In a swift move he threw the sock in.

When the sock hit the machine, Sakshi lay there, visibly lightheaded, her breaths shallow. Allen observed her closely, noting how her defiance had crumbled into a dazed compliance.

“Good job,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying an almost patronizing warmth.

Sakshi didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the washing machine as though trying to steady herself. Allen smiled to himself.