Adultery Between Nabila and Ranjeet

[siva05]

Kindly request you to provide subtitles to hindi convo, keep rocking

[val.coutinho]

It's really nice start for such a romantic story..... I hope the writer keeps writing it in the way he/she has written and not spoil it like yes mam bang bang type ...... The story is going on good and has a meaning to it just keep up to the meaning....
All the best writer....

[Naaz]

Hindi translation karke padhni padi
Uske bawajood bhi itni achi lagi story mano sab kuch saamne chal rahi ho
Itna details aur ache andaz me ek ek shabd ko piroya gaya hai ki tareef ke liye Shabd nahi hai mere pass
Kash ye story hindi me hoti

[Attitude Breaker]

Jab story complete nai karna rehta hai toh shuru hi kyu karte ho ?

[Sahil.A]

Jab story complete nai karna rehta hai toh shuru hi kyu karte ho ?

I agree brother… most so called authors on this forum fall in the same category… suffering from pre-mature ejaculation. Jitna jaldi ubaal aata hai utna jaldi thande hoke phusssss…. Isase acche to wo authors hain jo dheerey- dheerey updates daaltey hai lekin story badhaatey rehte hain… I understand everybody has busy life and this is nobody’s job but if you start a story, you should progress the story even if slowly… even if like an update every 2-3 weeks.

[naj0501]

Will update the story today

[naj0501]

The first guest came a few minutes after Ammi sat down with Adnan.Then guests started coming and house transformed from a quiet, heavy space to one buzzing with greetings, laughter and hustle bustle. Children’s voices rose. The smell of samosas and jalebis filled the living room as trays made their way in from the kitchen.
“Aree beta, happy birthday!”
“Bhai wah, kitna bada ho gaya hai!”
Adnan beamed under the attention, holding onto his new toy while jumping between guests and the balloon bunch Ranjeet had tied to the back of a chair.
I stood near the doorway, offering smiles, air-kissing cheeks, hugging guests and accepting compliments about the decorations.
Everyone noticed my outfit.
“Uff, Nabila, tum toh aaj chand lag rahi ho!”
“Blue suits you, yaar. Is it designer?”
“Woh lipstick shade… killer!”
I nodded, smiled, thanked them robotically. All on autopilot mode.
My eyes searched the room for Adnan every few minutes. Then found Ranjeet -standing by the drinks table, handing out juice boxes to kids, laughing softly with a guest about how many balloons it took to make the arch.
How easy he blended among the strangers .....
But when our eyes met across the room-just for a second -I knew he hadn’t forgotten what we were both holding back.
Ammi noticed it too. Her glances were quieter now, her expressions unreadable. She sat near the corner, occasionally scolding Adnan lovingly or asking someone if they’d had snacks.
And still… I felt her watching me.
I moved from guest to guest, adjusting plates, wiping crumbs, offering more chutney, complimenting their dresses. Every gesture practiced. Every laugh perfectly timed.
Strangely, no one inquired about Asif's absence.Maybe they knew better. Maybe they’d been warned.Or maybe… they didn’t care.
“Sab ready?” Ranjeet called out cheerfully. People gathered around the table where cake was placed. Ranjeet asked someone to dim the lights a little.
And then the chant began.
“Happy birthday to you…”
Adnan stood in front of the cake, his eyes wide, a grin stretching from one cheek to the other, both palms planted excitedly on the table. He looked up at me and beamed.
I stood behind him, one hand gently resting on his shoulder, the other adjusting the dupatta that kept sliding down my arm. My bangles clinked softly, lost under the sound of claps, song, and laughter.
“Happy birthday dear Adnaaan…”
The candles flickered. A tiny breeze from the ceiling fan made the flames dance just as Adnan closed his eyes tightly and made a wish.
I smiled down at him.
Everyone cheered as he blew out the candles, clapped again when he cut the cake and playfully put some frosting on my finger before licking it off with a laugh.
He took the piece in his hand and offered to me.I leaned in for a bite, laughing as he pressed it to my lips like it was tradition.People started cheering.
Something made me lift my head-maybe instinct, maybe a whisper only I could hear in the noise.
There he was.
Ranjeet stood slightly away from the group, near the edge of the crowd. His phone was in his hand, held up to capture the moment, but he wasn’t just another guest snapping photos.
He stood calmly, like he belonged there—but there was something focused about the way he was standing. One foot slightly ahead, his chin lifted, and his eyes moving slowly, searching through the crowd.
But he wasn’t looking at the cake. Not even at Adnan.
He was looking right at me.
His gaze was steady and intense, like he could see something no one else could. And even though I knew I should’ve looked away… I didn’t.
I stared back at him for a moment longer than I should have, like we were both caught in some quiet understanding neither of us could say out loud.
And in that glance, everything else faded.
The guests. The laughter. The smell of vanilla and birthday balloons.
It was just his eyes and mine.
There was no smile on his face. Just a quiet focus. Like he was memorizing something. Or someone.
Like the picture he wanted the most… wasn’t on his phone. It was already in his mind.
And just before he lowered the camera, just before the next round of cheers broke the moment-
He winked.
So quickly, so subtly, I wasn’t even sure it happened.
But my breath caught anyway.
I turned to Adnan, who was still smiling brightly, his little hands sticky with frosting. He held out the leftover piece of cake to me. I gently took it from his fingers and brought it up to his mouth, feeding it to him slowly as he giggled, crumbs sticking to the corner of his lips.
"Happy Birthday to my dearest...May you live for thousand years" I greeted him lovingly.
Then I helped Adnan cut more pieces and we started to distribute the cake to the guests.
I slipped into the kitchen to grab more plates for the guests.
The party was buzzing outside - kids chasing each other with balloon swords, someone laughing a little too loudly over the music, and Ammi calling out for someone to pass her cake.
I opened the cabinet, half-distracted, when I heard the door creak behind me.
I turned to the direction of the sound and found Ranjeet standing there.
“Tum chupke chupke kitchen mein kya kar rahi ho?” came his voice—low, warm, teasing.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Tum mujhe stalk kar rahe ho kya?”
“Main?” he raised both eyebrows. “Main toh bas yeh dekhne aaya tha ke hostess kitchen mein chhup ke cake to nahi chura rahi na.”
I smirked, sliding a plate onto the counter. “Mujhe chhup ke cake khana hota toh main balcony ka rasta leti. Tumhara toh bas reason chahiye hota hai mujhe follow karne ka.”
He took a step closer, resting one hand on the counter beside me. “Main mana nahi kar raha.”
His nearness made the air suddenly warmer. The light above flickered faintly -like even the room was holding its breath.
I turned slowly toward him, arms crossed, letting the corner of my dupatta slip from my shoulder just slightly.
“So?” I said, arching a brow. “Kya chahiye tumhe kitchen se? Cake? Chai? Ya hostess ka attention?”
He chuckled, eyes trailing down the edge of my dupatta. “Hostess ka attention mil gaya. Ab bas spoon chahiye. Cake khane ke liye.”
I reached for the drawer beside him, intentionally leaning a little too close as I opened it. My bangles brushed his wrist.
“Careful,” he murmured, voice low now. “Aise nazdeek aogi toh main spoon bhool jaunga.”
I looked up, right into his eyes. “Accha ?.”
For a second, we just stood there.
His hand hovered near mine.
My heartbeat was suddenly louder than the music outside.
He lifted one corner of his mouth in that half-smile I was learning to read too well. The one that meant don’t tempt me unless you mean it.
But before anything could slip between us - word, touch, breath - a loud knock came at the door.
“Bhaiya, aur plates chahiye!” a voice shouted from the hallway.
I exhaled, stepping back with a playful roll of my eyes.
He grabbed a few plates from the counter. “Main le jaata hoon.”
I smirked. “Spoon toh reh gaya.”
He winked. “Sorry....Mera focus kahin aur tha.”
And just like that, he disappeared into the noise again.
Leaving behind the scent of aftershave and tension that refused to leave with him.

[naj0501]

As soon as the last guest left and the door clicked shut, it felt like the house let out a big sigh.
Balloons were still pasted to the wall, gently moving. The room smelled of cake and hot samosas. In the living room, Adnan lay on the carpet, fully busy with his new game console, eyes stuck to the small glowing screen.
Ammi stayed back, as she always does.She was in the kitchen, rinsing out cups and arranging leftovers into steel dabbas humming an old song of Lata Mangeshkar.
Ranjeet had also stayed back. He didn’t say a word. He just kept helping quietly-lifting plates, folding chairs, gathering napkins without being asked. His sleeves were rolled up, and the back of his shirt was a little untucked. He looked completely at ease.
I was in the dining area, wiping the table, when I heard footsteps behind me.
"kuch help kar dun?" Ranjeet asked.
I turned and our eyes met. "Thanks, bas ho gaya."
He smiled, slow and easy. "Kaisa Thanks? Dosti mein na thank you, na sorry, ok?"
His tone was warm and there was something deeper in his gaze.
I smiled and just stood there, looking at him.
He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice. "Sach kahun to main khud ko lucky maanta hoon ki tum meri dost ho."
Gratitude warmed me. "Ranjeet, tumhare bina yeh sub karna possible hi nahi tha. Adnan itna excited tha—party cancel hoti to bahut mayoos ho jata."
Ranjeet smiled. "Arrey aise kaise........main aisa thodi hone deta."
A swirl of emotions rose in my chest-relief, but also a pinch of hurt over Asif.
Ranjeet’s brows pulled together. "Mujhe samajh nahin aata Asif kaise ja sakta hai. Agar tum meri wife hoti aur Adnan mera beta, main kabhi tum dono ko akela nahin chhodta."
His words stung with truth. I stayed quiet, unsure what to say.
Ranjeet asked gently, "Usne subah ghar se nikalne ke baad phone kiya?"
"Haan. Jab main kitchen mein thi tab uska WhatsApp aaya," I said, voice low. "Usne poochha kya maine sab cancel kar diya. Jab maine kaha party chal rahi hai to gussa ho gaya. Maine use wapas aane ko kaha, par woh keh raha hai apni maa ke ghar rukega."
Ranjeet shook his head, sighing. "Yeh to bilkul galat hai yaar.Sorry...bura mat manna lekin tera pati chutiya hai" he murmured.
"Le....ismein bura manne wali kya baat hai....Chutiya hi to hai...." And we both burst into laughter.
From the kitchen, Ammi called out, “Nabila, yeh bhindi wali sabzi kis dabbe mein daalun?”
“Main abhi aayi, Ammi!” I replied and moved to the kitchen.Ranjeet too followed me.
Ammi was standing at the kitchen counter, rinsing dishes under the tap, her dupatta tucked at her waist. Hearing us enter, she paused and gave us a small, curious smile.
"Ranjeet ne bahut help ki aaj, Ammi. party ke baad cleaning mein bhi haath bataya," I explained.
"Bahut achha, beta..." She smiled at Ranjeet and continued rinsing the dishes.
"Main pizza order kar deti hoon... tum dono dinner ke baad hi jaana," I said.
"Theek hai," Ammi nodded.
"Nahin, nahin... mujhe chalna padega... kuch commitments hain," Ranjeet protested.
"Ruk jao beta, itni pyaar se keh rahi hai to," Ammi insisted.
Ranjeet thought for a moment and said, "Theek hai, aunty, lekin dinner ke baad turant nikalna padega."
"Jaise tumhari marzi," Ammi replied without looking up.
"Aunty, waise aap rehti kahan hain?" Ranjeet asked curiously.
"Woh *** mein rehti hain," I answered for her.
"Oh great, woh toh mere raaste mein padta hai. Main * mein rehta hoon. Agar chahein to main aunty ji ko drop kar deta hoon—meri car hai," Ranjeet offered.
"Bahut achha hoga... hai na, Ammi?" I asked.
"Koi baat nahin, beta..." she replied softly.
Ranjeet offered to drop Ammi home, and she didn’t argue much. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she had seen enough for one day and was willing to retreat gracefully.
About fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang—ting‑tong, Domino’s! I rushed to the door with Ranjeet right behind me, paid the delivery boy, and came back carrying three hot boxes that filled the house with the smell of cheese and oregano.
“Pizza aa gaya!” I called out.
Adnan jumped up from the carpet, full of energy again. “Mumma, jaldi kholo na!”
We spread the dining cloth on the living‑room floor as the dining table was still buried under the gifts. Ammi sat cross‑legged first, Adnan plopped next to her, and Ranjeet and I sat on the other side with the hot pizza boxes between us.
I pried open the lid and satisfying aroma of stringy cheese filled our nostrils.
Adnan’s eyes went round. “Mujhe sabse bada slice chahiye!”
Ammi laughed, tapping his nose. “Arre baba, pet chhota hai aur slice bada chahiye? Pehle ek normal slice khaa, phir dekhte hain.”
Ranjeet pulled out the pizza‑cutter. “Champion, main tumhare liye ek alag plate bana deta hoon.” He slid the cheesiest wedge onto Adnan’s plate.
I handed Ammi a paper napkin. “Ammi, yeh lo....capsicum wala aapka favourite.”
“Shukriya, beta.” She took a careful bite and sighed.
"Hmmmm...awesome.... Garama‑garam. Party ke baad pizza sach‑much sukoon deta hai.” Ranjeet sopke chewing the pizza.
We passed slices around. Cola bottles hissed open. Adnan tried to tilt the two‑litre bottle himself; Ranjeet steadied it. “Dheere, champ.....warna sab fizz bahar aa jayega.”
Adnan giggled, “Sorry, sorry!”
Between bites, Ammi eyed half decorated room and smiled. “Sab kuch sahi raha..... dil bahut khush hai. Adnan ka din achha gaya.”
“yeah...aunty... you are right....,” Ranjeet added, wiping sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Aur jalebi ka credit pura aapko, Aunty.”
Ammi’s cheeks warmed at the praise.
"Ammi ne khud banai thi Jalebi...Ranjeet...She is very good cook...." I said.
Adnan, mouth full, mumbled, “Nani makes best jalebi ” which made all of us laugh.
For a moment the flat felt like a small island-no angry phone calls, no hard words from the morning-just four people sharing melted cheese and easy chatter.
Ranjeet poured cola into my glass last. As I took it, our fingers brushed; I felt that familiar flicker but let it rest, focusing instead on the simple warmth of the scene.
“Ek selfie banti hai,” he said, pulling out his phone.
“Abhi? !” I protested.
“Natural photo sabse achhi hoti hai,” he grinned.
We huddled in—Ammi still chewing, Adnan giving a saucy thumbs‑up, Ranjeet’s arm stretching to get us all, and me in the middle, pizza slice halfway to my mouth.
Click.
The last slice was gone, cola bottles were empty, and grease‑stained plates lay in a lazy pile on the sheet. Ranjeet stretched his back and glanced at the wall‑clock. “Bas, ab mujhe nikalna chahiye. Aunty, main aapko drop kar deta hoon.”
Ammi nodded, tying her veil. “Chalo beta, shukriya. Raat zyada ho gayi hai.”
I walked them to the door with Adnan following me, rubbing his eyes. Ranjeet bent to his level. “Goodnight, champ. Kal apne gifts dekhna, haan?”
Adnan managed a sleepy thumbs‑up.
At the doorstep Ranjeet turned to me. “ok nabila...Kuch chahiye toh call karna.”
“ok” I said, giving him a gentle smile. “Drive safe.”
He smiled back-warm but brief-then led Ammi to the lift.
The door clicked shut behind them, and the flat fell quiet.

[Hotyyhard]

please add English words also so that all can understand

[Attitude Breaker]

Please give quick update so the readers can stick to the story or they will lose the intrest in it. Over all the story is good and has great potential in it. Rest it's in your hands on how well you can come up with

[naj0501]

After Ranjeet’s car went off into the Delhi night, my flat on the 20th floor became quiet, finally peaceful after all the noise and excitement of the day. The walls, which were earlier full of children’s laughter and the sounds of people chatting and glasses clinking, now felt still. Only the soft sound of the ceiling fan was there, spinning slowly like a background tune.
Adnan had plopped down on the living room sofa, his attention glued to his tablet, fingers tapping away at a game. The sounds of digital chimes and celebratory pings filled the room while I quietly walked to my bedroom.
There, I stood before the mirror, my fingers slowly tracing the edge of my veil, feeling the soft fabric beneath my fingertips. A long sigh escaped my lips, the day’s weight pressing down on my shoulders. With a quiet, deliberate movement, I unpinned the veil and let it slip from my head. It slid down my shoulders like silk, brushing against my skin before falling onto the bed in a delicate heap. I watched it land, soft and silent, a symbol of the roles I carried all day. My head tingled as the cool air touched it, and I ran my fingers through my loosened hair, letting it fall over my back in waves, relishing the quiet intimacy of the moment. My dark hair tumbled free, and I shook it loose, welcoming the airy relief.
In the bathroom, I leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on my face, washing off the layers of the day-makeup, heat, lingering fragments of noise.
Feeling a little better, I slowly walked to the kitchen. The smell of strong black coffee started filling the air as I made myself a cup.
Holding the warm mug in my hands, I walked back to the living room and saw Adnan already fast asleep on the sofa. His tablet was still in his small hands, the screen glowing faintly. A small smile came to my face. I slowly took the tablet from him, careful not to wake him, and placed it on the table. Then I kissed his forehead gently and pulled a soft blanket over him. After that, I picked up my phone from the side table and walked towards the balcony.
As soon as I stepped out, the cool night breeze touched my face. I sat on the balcony chair and took a slow sip of my coffee, enjoying the quiet. Then I opened WhatsApp on my phone. So many messages had come for Adnan’s birthday. One by one, I read them all and replied with a smile. My fingers kept typing as my heart felt full seeing so much love from family and friends for my little boy.
Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking the silence. My heart gave a small jump. Who could it be so late at night? I quickly kept my mug on the small table in the balcony and rushed to the door, adjusting my kameez on the way. I peeked through the peephole and saw Ranjeet standing there, looking a little unsure, with his jacket hanging from one shoulder.
I opened the door. "I’m such a fool," he said with a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck. "I forgot my phone." Just a little while ago, I had seen his phone lying on the couch’s armrest when I was moving a balloon to the side. Its screen had lit up for a second under the lamp’s light. I had smiled to myself then, shaking my head.
"Come in," I said, stepping aside.
He entered slowly, brushing past me. I could smell his cedar cologne again-it made my skin tingle. I pointed toward the couch. "It’s right there. You left it next to the armrest."
Ranjeet picked up the phone, but instead of going straight to the door, he stopped and turned to look at me. His eyes stayed on my hair, falling freely over my shoulders. "You look... different," he said softly, almost like he was seeing me for the first time.
I felt my cheeks getting hot. My voice was low as I said, "Just relaxing a bit." I gave a small smile, but my heart was beating fast. I became very aware of my open hair, the soft fall of it on my shoulders, and how he was still looking at me. Something about the way he stood there, silent and close, made the air between us feel heavy ,like something was waiting to happen.
He took a small step closer. "I should go," he murmured, but he didn’t move. Neither did I.
His eyes travelled slowly over my face, then to my hair, then down to my bare neck. "You are really very beautiful, Nabila," he said, his voice soft and honest. "I’ve never seen you like this before... free, glowing. It suits you."
I felt shy, but also something warm spread through me. I looked down, my fingers touching my hair, feeling a little nervous but also something more. I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked at him again, and that was enough. The moment between us grew stronger, quiet but powerful.
My breath stopped for a second as he lifted his hand slowly and softly moved a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm and gentle, making my skin feel something I couldn’t explain.
I looked up at him, my heart thudding. I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to.
And then, like something silent was pulling us closer, we both leaned in slowly. Our faces came close, breath touching breath. For a second, I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine, as if both of us were asking the same question without words. Then, softly, our lips met. It was our first kiss-gentle and slow, full of hesitation but also something deep inside. My eyes closed on their own, and I felt his warmth, his closeness.
The kiss was not rushed. It grew slowly, sweetly, as if we were exploring something new, something we had both wanted but were too afraid to accept. His hand came up and rested lightly on my waist, while my fingers touched his arm. I could feel my heart beating fast, my body awake like never before. The world outside faded. Nothing else mattered. It was just him and me, in that quiet room, in that one magical moment that felt like a dream finally coming true.
The kiss slowly became deeper, our lips moving together like they already knew each other. He pulled me a little closer, his hand firm but gentle on my waist. I could feel his breath on my face-warm, slightly heavy, mixed with the smell of coffee and his cologne. It made something stir inside me.
I opened my lips just a bit, and he did the same. When our tongues touched, it was slow and soft, like a first step into something new. His tongue was warm, smooth, and tasted a little like mint and coffee. It moved with mine gently, exploring, teasing. I felt a soft moan rise in my throat, and I didn’t stop it. He pressed closer, his hand moving slightly up my back, holding me more tightly.
My fingers gripped his shirt, and my body leaned into him naturally. His kisses became more passionate, deeper, slower but more hungry. Our tongues moved together, sometimes playful, sometimes needy. Every movement made my skin tingle, my body come alive. I could feel the heat between us growing, and still, neither of us wanted to stop.
We kissed like time had paused - slow, warm, and full of feeling. But soon, the kiss became more hungry. Our lips moved faster, our bodies pressed closer. His hands held me like he didn’t want to let go. Our tongues met again and again, playing, tasting, wanting more. I moaned softly into his mouth, and he pulled me even closer. It felt like we had waited for this moment forever.
For a few minutes, we kissed like we were lost in each other-our breathing heavy, hearts racing, lips and tongues moving with deep need. Then slowly, we both pulled back, still holding each other, both of us breathless.
We broke apart, our foreheads resting together, both of us breathing hard. I was smiling like a fool, unable to stop myself. Ranjeet was smiling too, his breath uneven, eyes still locked on mine. My heart was beating fast, and I felt this wild, happy rush inside me. I didn’t think, didn’t speak-just looked at him, letting my eyes say what words couldn’t.
Then, with a playful shine in his eyes, he suddenly lifted me up in his arms, like I weighed nothing. I let out a small gasp, then laughed, my arms going around his neck. My face was so close to his, I could feel his breath.
“Ranjeet!” I whispered with a giggle, but I didn’t ask him to stop.
He carried me through the hallway, my bare feet hanging in the air. The floor passed by in a blur, but I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, loud and fast. I could also feel his heart beating steady against me.
I pushed open my bedroom door with my legs, and the soft smell of jasmine and sandalwood candles welcomed us. He stepped in and gently placed me on the floor near the bed which was covered in a soft quilt. But even after putting me down, his hands stayed on my waist.
I looked up at him, my eyes not hiding anything-open, a little shy, but not afraid. The door closed behind him with a soft click. The room fell silent, full of something new, something waiting. Just the two of us, in that moment, in that space, where anything could happen.
He stepped closer and gently cupped my face in his hands. His palms were rough, warm, and slightly calloused -each touch sparked tiny waves through my skin. I could feel a strange current travel from my cheeks to my chest, making me shiver without even realizing it.
Our breaths mingled, warm and hesitant, before our lips finally touched. The moment his mouth met mine, my eyes fluttered shut on their own. His lips were soft, careful, almost reverent. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was tender-slow like a secret being spoken for the first time. I felt a gentle pull in my chest, a sweet ache blooming as his kiss deepened. It was the kind of kiss that made the world vanish, leaving behind only breath, warmth, and two hearts finding their rhythm together.
And soon, the kiss grew deeper. His lips moved with more hunger, more urgency. It felt like he couldn’t get enough of me. He pressed harder, kissing me like he had waited too long. His mouth parted mine, tasting, exploring, pulling gently, then with need. Every movement was filled with passion-messy, real, and full of desire he could no longer hide.
I felt the tip of his tongue gently press against my teeth, teasing, asking for more. My lips parted without hesitation. His tongue slipped inside, warm and searching. It moved slowly at first, exploring the inside of my mouth, brushing against the walls of my cheeks, before softly dancing with mine. Every touch sent a wave of heat through me, pulling me deeper into the kiss.
My arms were wrapped around his neck, holding him close, feeling the tension in his shoulders melt under my touch. His hands were on my back, large and warm, moving slowly. He caressed my spine in long, tender strokes-his palms trailing from the curve of my waist all the way up to the nape of my neck. Each glide of his hand left a trail of heat, making my back tingle, my breath catch. His touch was both calming and exciting, steady and searching, like he was learning the shape of me through every gentle pass.
His kiss grew deeper, and soon our breaths tangled into one, warm and heavy. I could feel his breath on my tongue, my lips, like we were drawing air from each other. My lips began to sting slightly from the intensity-tender and swollen from his eager pressure-but even that pain felt like a gift. It made everything feel real. Alive. Desired.
I felt the firm pressure of his arousal against my belly. It was bold, undeniable, and sent a rush of warmth through my core. Slowly, I slid my hand from around his neck down to his chest. His heart was pounding hard beneath my palm-fast and heavy, just like mine. That rhythm… it told me everything he wasn’t saying aloud.
Then he paused. His breath hovered over my lips and nose, warm and quick. My lips throbbed from the kiss but felt strangely relieved, like they had been waiting for that release. I slowly opened my eyes. His face was close,too close to miss the fire in his gaze. His eyes locked with mine, deep and intense, filled with a storm of passion, desire, and something unspoken that made my chest tighten.
He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, pulling me into his embrace until there was no space left between us. I could feel the full length of his body pressed against mine-warm, firm, and unyielding. I let my hands slide over his back, holding him just as tightly. The closeness made everything feel intense-his heartbeat, his breath, his warmth-all of it sinking into me.
His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with emotion. "Nabila... I love you," he said, his words rough around the edges, like they’d been waiting a long time to come out. His eyes didn’t blink. They just held mine, like he needed me to feel every syllable.
My heart skipped a beat the moment I heard those words. It had been years-maybe a lifetime-since anyone had said those beautiful,lovely words to me. The sound of his voice, filled with love, cracked something deep inside. A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
Ranjeet leaned in and pressed his lips softly against my cheek, right where the tear was sliding down. His kiss was warm and tender. Then, slowly, he traced the path of the tear with his tongue, following it all the way up to the corner of my eye, as if he wanted to taste every emotion I had just let slip.
Then he began planting slow, tender kisses across my face. First on one cheek, then the other. A soft press on my forehead, then a warm kiss on the tip of my nose. Each touch was careful, full of feeling, as if he wanted to memorize me through his lips. He didn’t miss a spot-every kiss felt like a silent confession, deeper than words.
He pressed a soft kiss on my lips, then slowly trailed his mouth down to my neck. His lips brushed my skin, warm and open, sending shivers through me. As he kissed the curve of my neck, he reached up with one hand, found the edge of my dupatta, and gently tugged. The fabric slid off my shoulder, smooth and weightless, before he let it fall to the bed behind me-quiet and effortless, like shedding hesitation itself.
My fingers slid into his hair, gently curling and tugging, feeling the softness between my fingertips. He lingered at my neck for a moment longer, his tongue brushing lightly over the skin before his lips returned to mine. The shift was slow, fluid-like his mouth couldn’t stay away, drawn back to mine by something deeper than desire.
Once again, his lips found mine-full of the same passion, the same longing that had set my skin alight before. My eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the moment. I felt his hands roam my back, warm and firm, drawing me closer into him. Then, without warning, his right hand moved around to my front, and gently settled over my left breast. The suddenness of it caught me off guard. My breath hitched, and a soft moan escaped my lips, unbidden and raw.
I opened my eyes slowly, still catching my breath. He had paused, his gaze fixed on mine-intense, searching.
“Kya kar rahe ho, Ranjeet?” I whispered, my voice soft and shaky, more out of emotion than protest.
His hand cupped and pressed my breast gently with a careful, deliberate touch-his palm resting beneath, fingers curving gently over the top. He gave it a soft, slow squeeze, like he was memorizing the feel of me through his hand. Then he looked into my eyes and murmured,
"Woow....tere boob kitte soft hai Darling."
I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, a soft laugh slipping past my lips. My cheeks felt warm, my voice teasing but breathless as I asked,
"Did you like it really?"
"Kaun nahi chahega aise khubsurat, naram boobies ko feel karna?" he whispered, his voice deep with longing. "Sach kahun toh, uss din se chahta tha... jab tumhe pehli baar office mein dekha tha."
I tangled my fingers in his hair, giving it a playful tug. My eyes sparkled with mischief as I leaned in close and teased,
"Ohhh... naughty boy, you thought I didn’t notice the way you looked at my breasts when you thought I wasn’t watching? But I saw it all."
He gave my breast a firmer squeeze, his brows playfully furrowed as he leaned in closer.
"Bohot tez ho tum, haan?" he said in a mock scolding tone, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away.
I held his face gently between both my hands and pulled him into another kiss-deep and urgent, our lips moving with hunger. His hands roamed my back again, fingers trailing slowly downward. I felt his palms slide over the curve of my lower back, and then settle firmly on my hips, holding me close. The heat of his touch sent a new wave of shivers through me.
His hands glided slowly over the curves of my hips, tracing their shape with quiet reverence. His touch was firm yet delicate, as though he was committing every contour to memory. He cupped and caressed me like an artist exploring his favorite sculpture-measuring, admiring, savoring every inch beneath his fingers.
He looked into my eyes and spoke in passionate voice
"Nabila, mujhe nahi pata main kahin zyada to nahi bol raha ... lekin tumhare curves ne mujhe pagal bana diya hai. Tum jis tarah se chalti ho, uss ada ne mujhe jaise baandh liya hai. Maine kitni raaten sirf yeh soch kar guzari hain ki tumhein apni baahon mein lekar kaisa feel hoga. Aaj ka din sapne jaisa lag raha hai... main kab se is pal ka intezaar kar raha tha, meri jaan.Nabila…Jadoogarni hai yaar tu…."
I smiled softly, a gentle blush rising in my cheeks as emotion flickered in my eyes. I looked at him playfully and said, "Ab khush ho? Jo chahiye tha, mil gaya na tumhe?"
"Yes, I'm happy," he said with a soft smile, "but there's still more I want... ."
His hands slid slowly up my back, fingers grazing my spine with deliberate care. When they reached the top of my kameez, he paused for just a moment-then gently found the zipper and began to pull it down, inch by inch. The soft sound of the zipper opening seemed louder in the stillness, sending a flutter through my chest as the fabric loosened around me.
He placed his hand softly on my left shoulder and slid the fabric of my kameez aside, revealing the thin strap of my bra against my skin. The cool air touched the exposed spot just before his lips did. He leaned in, brushing a warm kiss over my bare shoulder, then trailed to the strap itself, his mouth lingering there.
"I want all of you, Nabila," he whispered, his eyes blazing with raw hunger and tenderness.
"I'm all yours, Ranjeet" I gently caught his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over his cheeks as I looked into his eyes, steady and full of trust. I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, but certain and full of feeling.
Ranjeet's fingers found the hem of my kameez and slowly began to lift it upward, inch by inch. The fabric slid against my skin, feather-light and warm from my body. I raised my arms without a word, surrendering to his touch, letting him peel the garment off me. He pulled it over my head and let it fall to the floor without a glance.
For the first time in my life, someone other than my husband was seeing me like this-bare, exposed, vulnerable. But there was no fear. No shame. Instead, a strange confidence bloomed within me. I felt beautiful. Desired. Free.
He had waited-patiently, silently, with so much restraint. And in that moment, I felt like he had earned every inch of me he was finally seeing.
I stood still, wearing only my soft blue half-cup bra and matching salwar. The fabric clung lightly to my skin, and a delicate necklace rested just above my cleavage, catching the glow of the bedside lamp. I felt his gaze linger on me, not with lust alone, but admiration.
Then, without a word, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulled it over his head and let it fall beside my kameez on the floor-barriers slipping away, one by one.
I looked at his bare torso, slowly taking in every detail. His skin was a rich, deep brown, smooth and warm-toned. His nipples, a darker shade, stood out against his chest. A fine layer of hair trailed over his chest-not thick, just enough to draw the eye. His muscles were well-defined, especially his biceps, which flexed slightly as he moved. He was solidly built, with the kind of strength that looked both powerful and natural.
"Woah... tum roz gym jaate ho kya?" I asked, curiosity laced with admiration in my voice.
"Yes, darling. I work out every day," he said with a proud grin. Then he clenched his fist and flexed his arm, showing off his biceps. "Dekha? Pasand aaya?"
"You're amazing," I said, still admiring the way his body looked under the soft light. "Bilkul perfect ho tum."
"But it's not fair," he said, pretending to pout, a playful frown forming on his face as he crossed his arms dramatically.
"Why?" I asked.
"Tumne toh mera sab kuch dekh liya, lekin tum abhi bhi bra mein ho," he said with a playful smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Ok... ok..." I said with a shy smile, and reached behind to unhook my bra. The clasp came undone easily, and the straps loosened around my shoulders. I slipped it off slowly, letting it fall to the floor beside our clothes. As the cool breeze from the air conditioner brushed against my bare skin, tiny goosebumps rose across my chest. A gentle shiver ran through me-it wasn’t just the cold. It was the way he was looking at me. Like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
I felt a warm blush creeping up my neck as I turned my face slightly, too shy to meet his eyes. But I could sense his gaze-steady, intense-fixed on my bare chest. It made my skin tingle, my breath catch, and yet, somewhere deep inside, I liked the way he was seeing me.
My hands instinctively moved to cover my breasts, but he gently caught them and guided them away. His eyes stayed on mine for a heartbeat longer, asking without words. Then his hands cupped both of my breasts, warm and firm, his fingers pressing into the softness with a slow, deliberate rhythm. A soft gasp escaped me as he began to knead them gently, exploring their shape like he was discovering something sacred. Then he lowered his head, and his lips found one of my nipples, kissing it tenderly before drawing it into the warmth of his mouth.
My eyes fluttered shut and a low gasp slipped from my lips as his teeth gently chewed my nipple. The sensation was sharp yet tender, sending jolts through my body. My fingers instinctively wove into his hair, holding him close, playing with the soft strands as my breath grew uneven from the overwhelming wave of pleasure.
He moved from one breast to the other, his hands kneading them slowly, firmly, as his lips and tongue worshipped each nipple in turn. I arched back instinctively, my head tilted, eyes shut tight as soft moans escaped me-unfiltered and deep. His touch, his mouth, everything he did made my body respond in ways I hadn’t felt in years.
"Aaahhh," I cried out sharply, the sudden bite on my nipple sending a jolt through my body. It wasn’t gentle-it was rough, raw, and intense. My back arched and my fingers gripped his hair tighter, caught between surprise and the rush of sensation flooding through me.
"Ranjeet... kya kar rahe ho tum?" I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of surprise and anticipation.
"Kuch nahi... bas pyaar ke nishaan chhod raha hoon," he said with a teasing smile, his eyes locked onto mine, filled with playful heat.
Then he gently guided me down onto the bed, his touch slow and careful. I lay back, propped on my elbows, my head slightly lifted as I gazed up at him. The soft sheets cooled my skin, and the way he looked at me-intense, tender-made my pulse quicken.
His fingers moved to the buckle of his jeans, eyes still locked on mine. With slow, unhurried movements, he unfastened them and pulled the zipper down. Then, in one graceful motion, he eased his jeans and boxers down together. His dick, bold and unashamed, revealed itself as he stepped out of the clothes and nudged them aside with his foot. There was confidence in the way he stood, raw and unfiltered, as if nothing else existed but this moment between us.
He wrapped his right hand around his shaft and began stroking it slowly, his movements unhurried and confident. My eyes followed the motion, and I couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and nerves. It was much larger than what I had known -both in length and thickness-and the sight of it stirred a flutter in my chest. There was something unfamiliar about it too, and it took me a moment to realise-it was uncircumcised as Ranjeet was *****. That small detail made it feel even more intimate, more raw, like I was seeing something private and real, meant only for me in this moment.
"Kabhi aisa kuch dekha hai pehle?" Ranjeet asked softly, his voice laced with mischief and heat, as his hand continued its slow, steady motion.
I let out a nervous laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I replied, "Sirf filmon mein dekha hai... kabhi itna real nahi laga tha."
"Kya tere Shohar ka aisa nahi hain?" he asked curiously, his tone soft but probing, eyes still fixed on mine.
"Half of it... aur chhodo usse. Loser hai woh," I replied, my voice laced with both dismissal and a quiet ache, as I looked away for a brief second, then met Ranjeet’s eyes again.
"Yes... he truly is a loser," Ranjeet said with a faint smirk, his tone low and final. He stepped closer to the bed, then slowly climbed up, his presence looming and warm. His hands reached for my knees, guiding my legs gently up onto the bed. I followed his lead, breath shallow with anticipation. With a quiet pause, he placed his palms on the insides of my thighs and gently eased them apart.
His fingers found the knot of my salwar. With one smooth tug, the string came undone, and I felt the fabric begin to loosen around my hips. He slid his hands to my waist, grasped the waistband, and looked up at me as if asking silently. I raised my hips slightly, giving him permission. He slid the salwar down slowly, letting it slip past my thighs and off my legs, dropping it onto the floor beside the rest of our clothes.
He gently hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties, his touch featherlight and patient. With slow, careful movements, he began to ease them down, inch by inch, watching me as if reading every flicker of emotion in my eyes. The fabric slid down my hips, over my thighs, and finally off, joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor. I was bare now, completely exposed beneath his gaze, and yet I had never felt more seen... or wanted.
He gently spread my legs apart, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin flush. His gaze lowered, lingering over my most intimate part with awe and hunger. A wave of shyness surged through me, and I instinctively moved my hand to cover myself. But he softly caught my wrist and guided it away, never breaking eye contact. Then, lowering his head, he began placing soft, reverent kisses on the inside of my thighs, his lips trailing slowly up, sending shivers through my entire body. Each kiss felt like worship, as if he was savoring every inch of me with silent devotion.
"Aaahhhh," a breathy moan escaped my lips as his mouth touched my pussy. My body arched slightly at the sudden wave of pleasure. I covered my eyes with one hand, overwhelmed by sensation and shyness, but a shy giggle slipped through my lips, unable to hold back the rush of emotion his touch stirred in me.
His lips and tongue began to move with deliberate skill, exploring me with slow, sensual strokes that sent tremors through my core. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, made my thighs quiver and my breath hitch. My left hand reached down and tangled tightly in his hair, anchoring myself to the waves of sensation flooding my body. He licked, circled, and teased, his mouth moving with a rhythm that was both patient and relentless. I writhed beneath him, the sheets rustling under me, my moans escaping freely as pleasure coursed through every inch of me in warm, pulsing waves.
My chest was rising and falling rapidly, heart pounding as I teetered at the edge of release-so close I could almost touch it. But then, just before I tipped over, he paused. The sudden stillness made my breath hitch. I lay there, panting and trembling, my body aching from the interruption. I looked down at him-he was sitting between my parted thighs, his gaze intense, lips glistening, and a wicked, knowing smile playing on his face.
He gripped his dick firmly at the base with his right hand, guiding his length slowly toward my entrance. The heat of him pressed against me, and I felt his gaze settle on my face-steady, searching, tender. "Ready?" he asked in a low whisper, his voice vibrating with desire and care, waiting for my signal to take us further.
"Please" I replied.
With a firm thrust of his hips, he pushed his dick inside me. I gasped as his size filled me, stretching me wide, deeper than I had ever felt before. My body tensed for a moment, adjusting to the sudden fullness. "Aaahhh..." I moaned, the sound escaping my lips as he breached me completely, a mix of surprise, pressure, and overwhelming sensation rippling through me.
He eased himself into me slowly, inch by inch, his movements controlled and deliberate. I could feel every bit of him filling me, deeper and deeper, until he was buried completely inside. My inner walls tightened around him, enveloping him fully. He paused there, unmoving, allowing me time to adjust to his size. My chest rose and fell rapidly, breath catching as my body acclimated to the fullness, to the sheer intimacy of being so completely joined with him.
He leaned over me, his body warm and firm against mine. His hands found mine, fingers weaving tightly through my own, and he gently pinned them to the bed on either side of my head. His grip was strong but comforting, grounding me in the moment. He lowered his face and kissed me deeply, our lips meeting with a mix of tenderness and fire. Our bodies pressed together-skin to skin-my breasts flattening against the hard plane of his chest, making me feel every beat of his heart against mine.
Then I felt him shift his hips, his movements slow and deliberate. He began to withdraw, inch by inch, his thick dick sliding out of me with aching slowness. The friction sent a delicious shiver up my spine, making my toes curl. My inner walls clenched around him, reluctant to let go. The moment he almost left me completely, a deep moan tore from my throat-raw and involuntary.
"Aaahhh..." I gasped, overwhelmed by the stretch, the heat, and the loss of that fullness, even if only for a second.
He pushed his dick back inside me, slow and deep, filling me all over again. The sensation was overwhelming-his thickness stretching me, sliding through the slick heat with deliberate care. My back arched, my fingers clutching his hands tighter, my fingers lacing around his as if trying to hold on to something real, as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me.
"Ohhhhhhhh... Ranjeeeettt..." I moaned, the sound heavy with longing and release, my voice trembling with the rawness of how deeply I felt him inside me.
He brushed a tender kiss over my lips, barely touching yet full of feeling. His voice was low, warm against my mouth as he whispered, "I love you, Nabila...."
A tender smile curved my lips as I whispered back, my voice soft and filled with emotion, "I love you too, Ranjeet... more than I ever thought I could love someone again."
He continued fucking me with a steady, unhurried rhythm-his thrusts deep and smooth, sending ripples of pleasure through my entire body. Each time he filled me, I felt another wave build and crash, leaving me trembling beneath him. My skin glistened, my breath came in soft gasps, and the bed creaked faintly with every motion.
Ranjeet’s hands slid up to my breasts again, cupping them with reverence and hunger. His thumbs rolled over my nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks, while his fingers kneaded the soft flesh with a firm, knowing touch. I arched my back, moaning louder as heat spiraled through my core.
Then he lowered his mouth and took one nipple between his lips, sucking it gently at first, then deeper. His tongue circled slowly while his other hand found my second breast, pinching and rolling the nipple until my body writhed beneath him, overwhelmed by the dual sensations.
"“Aaahhh... Nabila... you feel incredible,” he groaned, his voice husky and trembling with pleasure. “So soft... so perfect... my jaan...” he whispered between deep, rhythmic thrusts, his words breaking around each wave of sensation.
I slid my hands into his hair, gripping the back of his head and pulling him down into a kiss. His mouth met mine with an urgency that stole the breath from my lungs. It wasn’t gentle-it was hungry and unfiltered. His tongue thrust deep into my mouth, exploring with wild, unrelenting passion. I opened for him completely, lost in the rawness of the moment. I could taste him-his breath, his hunger-mixing with mine as his saliva spilled into my mouth, warm and intimate. The kiss was messy, desperate, and real-like two souls devouring each other.
"Ummmmm... you're so sweet... so sexy... so soft," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Main shabdon mein bayan nahi kar sakta, Nabila... tum swarg ho meri liye." He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes filled with wonder. My lips were still wet from our kiss, glistening in the soft light. He ran his thumb across them, smearing the lingering moisture with a touch that was both possessive and tender, as if he wanted to feel every trace of our passion etched into my skin.
“You’re amazing too, Ranjeet… I’m so lucky to have you,” I whispered, my fingers gently caressing the curve of his biceps. “So strong… so sure… you feel like everything I ever wanted in a man.”
"“Hmmmm... meri jaan... we fit so perfectly together,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire as his hips moved in a slow, deep rhythm. “Nabila, mujhe tumse pehli nazar mein hi pyaar ho gaya tha... tum nahi jaanti kitna patience rakhna pada tumhein paane ke liye.”
His breath was hot against my ear as he continued, each word laced with emotion and heat. “Tumhara jism... it's perfect, meri jaan. Tumhare breasts... tumhara curve... tumhari softness... sab kuch. Har ek hissa tumhara... mujhe pagal kar deta hai.”
It felt strangely beautiful to be wanted this deeply. His hunger, his reverence-it awakened something in me I thought I had lost. After so long, I felt irresistible, alive in my own skin. Desired not just for how I looked, but for all that I was.
I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, drawing him even closer into me. My heels pressed against the small of his back as his rhythm deepened. I reached up, cupping the back of his head, and pulled him into a kiss-deep, slow, and filled with everything I couldn’t put into words. Our lips moved together in perfect sync, the heat between us rising again. I broke the kiss just enough to whisper breathlessly against his mouth,
"Ranjeet... tum kamaal ho..."
"Ohhh....darling....kamaal to ab dekhogi...." Saying that, he straightened his posture with a determined look in his eyes. His movements were smooth but purposeful, charged with anticipation and care.
He reached forward, his hands steady, and picked up the pillow beside us. With one fluid motion, he slid it under the curve of my lower back, lifting my hips slightly. The elevation made everything feel deeper, more intense.
Then, with a soft yet firm grip, he took hold of my thighs and gently pushed them up against my chest, opening me fully beneath him.
"Ummm... tumhari thighs kitni soft hain," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his palms slid over the delicate skin, savoring the feel. Then, with slow control, he began to pull back-inch by inch-until only the swollen tip of his hardness remained inside me. The withdrawal sent a trembling ache through my core, leaving me gasping and clenching around the emptiness, aching for his return.
Then, without warning, he thrust back into me in one swift, powerful motion. The sudden stroke made my body jolt beneath him. It was fast-rougher than before-and the impact made me cry out, caught between surprise and raw pleasure. I could feel him hitting deep, the head of his length pressing firmly against my inner walls, stretching me completely. His thighs slapped against my bums, the heat of our skin colliding with force, and his thighs pressed tight against me. A loud, involuntary moan escaped from my throat-“Aaaaahhhhh…”-as my hands gripped the sheets, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.
The force of his thrust pushed me further up the bed. My breasts bounced from the impact, the sudden movement sending a fresh wave of sensation through me. The bed gave a loud, protesting creak beneath us, adding to the raw, breathless rhythm of our bodies moving in perfect sync.
"Ranjeet... thoda dheere... please," I breathed out, my voice shaky and filled with overwhelmed pleasure. My fingers clutched at his arms, trying to ground myself as the intensity of his rhythm sent waves crashing through me faster than I could catch my breath.
Ranjeet’s relentless rhythm drove into me, each thrust a tidal wave crashing against my core, ignoring my trembling plea-“Ranjeet… thoda dheere… please.” His hands clamped onto my hips, his fingers bruising as he plunged deeper, the head of his length stretching me to my limits. The bed groaned under the force, my body jolting with every slap of his thighs against my bums, and my breasts bounced wildly, sending sparks of sensation through me. My nails raked the sheets, my voice breaking into a desperate moan-“Aaaaahhhhh…”-as the intensity overwhelmed me.
But beneath the storm of his urgency, something shifted inside me. The friction, the pressure, the sheer fullness of him ignited a fire that built faster than I could control. My walls clenched around him, a pulsing heat coiling tighter, and suddenly, it broke. My orgasm hit like a lightning strike, a white-hot wave that tore a raw cry from my throat. My body arched, shuddering uncontrollably as pleasure flooded every nerve, my thighs trembling against his. The world blurred, my breath hitching as I rode the crest, lost in the ecstasy of release.
Ranjeet didn’t slow, his thrusts unrelenting, driving through my aftershocks. My sensitivity heightened, each movement now a mix of lingering bliss and sharp overstimulation. I gasped, my hands pushing weakly at his chest, my voice a shaky whisper-“Ranjeet, please…”-but he was too far gone, his eyes dark with need, deaf to my words. His pace quickened, erratic, his groans deepening as he chased his own edge.
Then it came. Ranjeet’s body tensed, a guttural moan ripping from him as he thrust one final time, burying himself deep. I felt the sudden warmth of his release, a hot, pulsing flood that filled me, spilling against my inner walls. It was intense, almost overwhelming, the sensation of his come so distinct-thick, heavy, claiming. My body, still tingling from my own climax, quivered at the intimacy of it, the way it seemed to seep into me, marking the moment. His weight pressed against me, his breath ragged against my neck, and for a fleeting second, I felt a strange, primal connection, our bodies intertwined in the rawest way.
But as the haze cleared, my heart pounded with a tangle of emotions. The pleasure was undeniable, my orgasm still echoing in my limbs, but his refusal to hear me left a quiet ache. I lay beneath him, my chest heaving, staring at the ceiling as his warmth settled inside me. Part of me reveled in the closeness, the way his release felt like an extension of our passion. Yet another part felt unseen, my plea for gentleness ignored in his rush to the end. My fingers loosened on the sheets, and I exhaled shakily, caught between the afterglow and the weight of being unheard.

[naj0501]

I woke up before the sunrise. The room was thick with sweat and sandalwood-last night still in the air. The sheets were twisted and damp, pillows kicked to the edge, and clothes lay crumpled under the chair. First I lay very still and tried to remember the night. Then I wanted to erase it.
Still, a warm, shy happiness sat inside me. For a few seconds I smiled into the pillow, remembering how he held me and how I felt seen. Then the guilt rose like a stone in my throat. I thought of my vows, of God, of the life I had promised to keep clean. The two feelings pulled me in opposite ways-joy made me light, guilt made me heavy. I did not know which one was the real me.
I quickly stripped the bed. Sheets went into the bucket, pillowcases into the sink, and I shook out the duvet like a white flag. I scrubbed till the lemon cleaner stung my nose. I changed the towels. I opened the windows. I washed one coffee mug twice. I told myself it was hygiene, it was punishment, it was both.
My phone buzzed, face-down, on the counter.
R: Home safe. Text me when you wake up. R: Or don’t. I’ll wait.
I turned the phone over and kept it face-down again, like a quiet animal.
I called the office and said a word I had never used: “Sick.” The lie felt like a small, helpful pill. Riya made a small tsk, kindly. “Rest,” she said. “Boss can manage one day without you.”
Boss. That word knocked the breath out of me.
Ranjeet called. I watched the screen light up. I let it ring out. He sent one WhatsApp-no hearts, no plea.
R: I’ll follow your lead. R: Eat something.
I kept the phone in a steel dabba and shut the lid.
By noon I had cleaned everything I could. The house shone. I didn’t. Guilt crawled under my skin like an old rash. Then I stood straight and made a rule, like on a college blackboard: Just once. We stop.
I returned to work the next day in my simplest kurta and no perfume. I was early, before most lights were on. The guard wished me good morning and looked twice at my face. The office smelled of floor cleaner and stale coffee. I chose a desk from where I had to turn my head three times to see his cabin, behind the glass and the money plant. I kept my bag between my feet, opened the laptop, and stared at the login screen for a full minute. My pulse beat in my neck like a small drum. Even without looking, I knew when he walked in-my heart found him before my eyes did.
He arrived two minutes late. His voice was smooth, like the coffee machine hiss near the pantry. He paused at the door, said a general good morning, glanced at the whiteboard, the team, the clock-everywhere except my face-and went to his cabin. He looked past me, over me, not at me. Professional. Clean and distant. I was hoping for this space but It still stung. My stomach tightened. I fixed my eyes on the screen and typed my password twice.
At 11, his 1:1 invite popped up. I stared at the calendar square until the pixels blurred, then clicked Accept. When I entered, his cabin door was left a little open-the HR rule for caution during 1:1 meetings. Cool AC air slipped through the gap and the blinds clicked softly.
“Status on the client rollout?” he asked, like the world was only Gantt charts, risks and dependencies. I gave the printouts. Our fingers did not touch.
When the updates ended, I spoke before my courage ran out. My throat felt dry and my fingers pressed the stapled pages too hard; the pin pricked my thumb. I kept my eyes on the table edge, not on him. “We need to talk...About… that night,” I said finally.
He did not rescue me from the words. He waited, hands flat on the desk, the pen lying still, jaw tight but calm. The AC hummed and the blinds clicked. He kept his eyes steady and let the silence stretch so I could finish.
“We crossed a line,” I said. “ I can not continue. I am married. You are my boss. Whatever that was, it was for one time.”
Something changed in his eyes-disappointment he did not show-like a tide turning. His shoulders dipped a little and his jaw tightened. He took a slow breath, clicked the pen once, then kept it down. He only nodded once.
“ok” he said sadly. “I really like you and I would like to take it further, but I will respect your choice.”
There was silence, not empty.
He added, carefully, “I started your lateral transfer paperwork. Clean lines, even if we stopped. You keep the project. No pay change.”
I swallowed. This was care that remembered life outside the bed.
“Thank you,” I said. My voice did not break. I felt proud.
I started to move. He did not try to stop me. When I reached the door, he said softly, “For the record, I love you.” Then, before I could react, “And I promise, I will be boring, like you asked.”
The word love landed in my chest like a hot coin. I put it in my pocket and left.
He didn’t overwhelm me; he kept his care neat and proper. He stayed within limits, gave me space, and kept things formal so I could breathe.
He sent praise through the team, not to me directly. “Nabila’s risk matrix saved two days. Use it.” He did not look at my face for long when he said my name.
In two weeks, he sent only one message after office hours. R: FYI-transfer approved. New reporting line from Monday. I replied at 9:01 a.m., office time: Noted. Thank you.
One day a small courier box came to my desk with noise‑cancelling earphones “for focus.” There was no note, only the invoice with my name. My stomach tightened and I took the set to the mailroom to send it back. Next day the same model showed up on every desk with a short mail from Admin: “For productivity.” He had made it a team thing so I would not stand out. I understood the care. I still hated the feeling, but I smiled with everyone and said thank you.
He kept the cabin door a little open during our talks, as per the HR rule. His meeting invites were clear, with a short agenda and a set time box. He copied HR on check‑ins, used plain language with no emojis, and he never called late‑night.
I kept my boundary. I spoke short and clear. I finished tasks, closed tickets, and went home on time. My eyes learned to look around him like he was a pillar in a temple I didn’t pray to.
Then it happened on a Wednesday that had never promised much. Adnan’s teacher called at 1:07 p.m., her voice tight with worry: “Ma’am, Adnan has fever. He is very weak and dull-please come quickly.” I reached the basement parking just as the sky folded into thunder. Warm wind turned to hard rain; the lane filled with brown water and the smell of wet earth. I clutched my car keys and ran between the pillars to my car. Asif wasn’t picking up; his phone went straight to busy. The clinic line was busy too. Even though I was inside, the basement was half open; wind pushed rain spray in and water dripped from the ceiling. My dupatta got wet and stuck to my neck, my hands slipped on the damp steering wheel, and my breath shortened. The world tilted and I started the engine anyway, switched on the wipers, and prayed I would reach fast.
I stared at my contacts list like it was a red button I had sworn never to press. My thumb hovered over his name; then thunder shook the car. Panic won. I hit call.
He answered on the first ring.
Ranjeet: Nabila?
Nabila: I need your help. I'm in the car, in the basement parking. I'm heading to Adnan's college-he has a fever. It's raining heavily.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
Within minutes he came into the basement parking and tapped on my window.
Ranjeet: Give me the keys. I’ll drive.
Nabila: Okay.
I slid to the passenger seat and he took the wheel. We climbed the ramp into the rain and headed to Adnan’s college. At the gate he parked by the security cabin with the same steadiness he used to tie marigolds. I signed at the office while he waited near the car. The teacher brought Adnan, hot and sleepy. Ranjeet opened the back door, took the college bag, and buckled Adnan in with careful hands, like a guest in someone else’s family.
“Straight to the hospital,” he said.
We drove there at once. At the hospital he managed forms; I managed my son. He got water and ORS and sat two seats away in the waiting room like a devotion with restraint.
When the nurse said it was viral, keep him hydrated, my knees went weak with the primitive relief of mothers since the beginning of time. I sat. He didn’t move closer. He folded the receipt into a small paper bird and kept it on the chair between us-for luck.
I looked at the little paper bird and then at him. I understood that love did not always look like hugs or big words. Sometimes it looked like showing up, driving in the rain, filling forms, keeping distance, and letting me breathe. There were a thousand kinds of love; one of them was simple competence when the world was loud.
Back at our society gate, he slowed and switched on the hazard lights. He stepped out, opened my door, and held the umbrella over Adnan while I lifted him out. He didn’t ask to come up. “Text if you need medicines,” he said. “Or don’t text. Just-take care.” He waited till we reached the lobby, gave a small nod, and drove off.
He left. But a small warm feeling stayed inside me, even with all my rules.

[siva05]

Words are faded, ranjeet is man of kindness. Liked the way you lead the story. Thank you

[Yash121]

Mind-blowing story

[Kobir99]

Good..

[Yash121]

Waiting for next update

[Yash121]

Waiting for next

[naj0501]

Thank you for the comments. It's really motivating. Will update the story tonight.

[naj0501]

The moment I stepped into the Grand Regent Hotel’s banquet hall, I felt like I had stepped into a grand movie set. Bright golden lights from crystal chandeliers cascaded over the room, making the polished cutlery on the tables sparkle. The carpet felt thick and soft under my heels, patterned with deep maroon and cream swirls that almost looked like waves. The air carried a rich mix of scents — fresh polish from the wooden paneling, expensive perfume from guests drifting past, and the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a counter tucked into one corner. For a second, I simply paused at the entrance, taking it all in, before moving further inside.
I adjusted my saree pallu, feeling the soft chiffon slip lightly between my fingers. Tonight I was wearing a wine-red chiffon saree with a thin silver border. The fabric was light, flowing softly when I moved, the pleats neatly tucked just below my navel, the pallu dbangd over my left shoulder. My blouse had a deep round neck with fine silver embroidery that matched the border, and elbow-length sleeves. I wore small silver jhumkas, a delicate chain with a tiny pendant, and a slim bracelet on my wrist. A faint trail of jasmine-scented perfume clung to me, something I had dabbed on my neck and wrists before leaving home. On my feet were silver-strapped sandals with a small heel, comfortable yet elegant. I had left my hair open in loose waves and done light makeup - eyeliner, soft rose lipstick, and a little highlighter. It felt perfect for an office function that was special but still formal.
The hall was already full of people from all departments. Groups were standing and talking, laughing loudly. Waiters in white shirts and black waistcoats were moving around with trays of juice and water. The front area near the stage was filled with our senior management. Right in the middle sat Mr. Malhotra, our Country Head, in a navy blue bandh gala suit with gold buttons. He looked serious but kept smiling politely whenever someone came to greet him.
The stage had a long LED screen at the back. On it, the company’s logo kept appearing along with the theme for the evening — “Annual Day & Awards – Celebrating Excellence Together.”
“Nice set-up this year,” Meera from Marketing whispered in my ear. She was in a dark green gown with a side slit. She leaned closer and added, “Finance team has got the front table. Looks like they are getting something big tonight.”
I smiled. “You think they planned even the table seating?”
She laughed softly. “Nabila, nothing here is random. Not even which starter they serve first. Remember last year when they served only veg starters to the Sales table? They sulked all evening.”
I laughed. “And ate half of ours.”
We giggled like college friends, earning a side glance from Rajiv in Quality, who mouthed, “Behave,” with a grin.
I looked around. Our CEO was busy greeting the Regional Managers. The HR Head, Anita, was giving instructions to the two young associates who would be hosting the event. The Sales VP was surrounded by his team, laughing loudly at something. Across the room, I spotted Ranjeet.
He was in a charcoal grey suit with a white shirt and a maroon tie. He stood with his hands in his pockets, listening to someone from Operations. The red thread on his wrist peeked out from under his cuff - I had noticed it before, a small personal detail. Just then, his eyes met mine for a second. He gave a small nod and I returned it before we both looked away.
The programme started with the lighting of the ceremonial lamp. Mr. Malhotra was joined by the CEO, HR Head, and our Senior Vice President for South Asia - the chief guest of the evening. He was a tall man with a calm face and a deep voice. He was known for remembering people’s names, even junior staff, which made everyone like him.
The speeches began. The CEO spoke about the company’s performance, the challenges we faced, and how we were ready for the future. The chief guest added some stories from his career and spoke about how “consistency and teamwork” were the real strengths of any organisation. People clapped at the right moments, some genuinely, some because everyone else was clapping.
Then a short video was played on the big screen. It showed the year’s highlights - successful projects, happy clients, team events, and CSR activities. Music played in the background, and the editing made even the ordinary things look grand.
After that, it was time for the awards.
The hosts started calling names. “Best Newcomer” went to a young guy from Sales. “Team Spirit Award” went to the Admin team. People clapped, shook hands, posed for photos. But I could hear whispers around me.
From somewhere behind, Rajiv from Quality muttered, “Team Spirit? They were fighting all year.”
Meera leaned over. “Watch -they’ll give something to Priya from HR. She’s got an offer from another company.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, “Leadership Excellence” went to Priya. As she went on stage, someone whispered, “That’s the best retention strategy - give them an award.”
And then, the host announced: “Client Excellence Award – Nabila Khan, Corporate Services.”
For a moment, I just sat there, surprised. Then I stood, adjusting my pallu, and walked to the stage. The spotlights made everything bright and warm. Mr. Malhotra handed me the trophy - a silver-and-glass piece shaped like a rising arc - and shook my hand.
“Your work with Meridian has set a high standard,” he said quietly. “Well done.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied.
From the stage, I looked at the crowd. I saw Meera smiling and clapping. I saw someone from Admin clicking my photo. And I saw Ranjeet, clapping slowly, with a steady, warm smile that held my gaze for just a moment too long.
I returned to my seat, still feeling the weight of the moment. That’s when I heard Ranjeet’s voice from behind me.
“Congratulations,” he said. “I was wondering when they’d finally give you that one.”
I turned slightly and smiled. “I wasn’t exactly waiting for it.”
He chuckled. “Some of us were. Though honestly, I thought they’d give it to Finance first just to keep the accountants happy.”
I laughed under my breath. “Don’t give them ideas for next year.”
It was friendly, but there was a certain undertone in his voice. The kind you can’t quite name but can’t ignore either. I looked back toward the stage, but the awareness of him sitting right there stayed with me as the rest of the awards went on.
The applause from the last award was still echoing faintly in the hall when the hosts announced that dinner was open. The heavy partition doors at the side of the banquet hall slid open to reveal a separate dining area, just as lavishly set up. The aroma that drifted out was almost sinful - a mix of freshly baked naan, rich gravies, and roasted spices.
People began drifting towards the buffet, some in eager groups, others in pairs, and a few lone wolves with their phones in hand. Meera and I exchanged a look and joined the slow-moving stream.
The buffet was a long U-shaped spread, starting with salads - bright bowls of kachumber, Russian salad, and chickpea chaat - then the main courses: butter chicken with its thick, red gravy, mutton rogan josh shimmering under the lights, paneer lababdar rich with cream, dal makhani cooked to perfection, and a fragrant vegetable biryani. At the far end, live counters were flipping hot tawa rotis and soft phulkas. The dessert section gleamed with bowls of gulab jamun, rasmalai, and a three-tiered cake decorated in the company colours.
“Trust them to make the food better than the salaries,” Meera muttered, picking up a plate.
I laughed. “It’s the only incentive that’s tax-free.”
As we moved along the line, I felt someone step into place beside me. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Ranjeet.
“Careful,” he said lightly, glancing at the stack of plates, “These plates are heavier than they look. HR says it’s to discourage second helpings.”
I smiled. “You should suggest dumbbells for dessert plates, then.”
Meera, catching the exchange, grinned but conveniently moved ahead to the biryani section, leaving us side by side.
“You look different tonight,” Ranjeet said, picking up a spoon of dal makhani.
“Different how?” I asked, spooning some paneer onto my plate.
He paused, just long enough to make me glance up. “Like the award was only your second win tonight.”
I felt a small, warm flicker inside. “And what’s the first?”
His smile was brief, almost private. “You’ll figure it out.”
We moved slowly with the line, exchanging light jokes about who would dare try both the mutton and the biryani without falling asleep at their table. Every so often, someone from our department stopped by to congratulate me, and Ranjeet would step back half a pace, listening but saying little. When they left, his eyes would find mine again, as if resuming an unfinished sentence.
At that point, Vikram from Admin - the one who’d been clicking my pictures on stage -appeared, carrying his plate with an exaggerated smile. “Our star of the night!” he announced loudly enough for nearby tables to turn.
I forced a polite smile. “Thanks, Vikram.”
He leaned in a little too close. “I’ll send you the photos… unless you want me to deliver them personally over coffee?”
“I’m sure whatsapp will work just fine,” I said, turning back to the buffet. He always tried to turn small talk into some cheap flirting, and I had lost patience with it long ago.
Ranjeet’s voice cut in, calm but edged. “Careful, Vikram. If you keep circling the buffet like this, someone might think you’re here for the food and not the company.”
Vikram laughed it off and moved on, but I caught Ranjeet’s glance - brief, knowing.
At the dessert counter, Meera returned. “I’m stealing her for a group table,” she told Ranjeet, mock-serious.
“She’s all yours,” he said, “Just don’t make her eat too much cake. She still has to walk to her car.”
I rolled my eyes, but there was a lightness to our banter that hadn’t been there before. Sitting at the table with Meera and a few others, I caught Ranjeet a few seats away, talking to someone from Finance. Even then, between bites of gulab jamun, our eyes met more than once.
The dinner went on with laughter, gossip about the evening’s winners, and speculation about next year’s reshuffles. But under it all, there was a steady hum -the quiet awareness of what had passed between us before, and the question of where the night might still lead.
By the time dessert plates were cleared and coffee was being served, the energy in the hall had shifted. The loud laughter had softened into smaller conversations, and people were starting to collect their belongings. Some were making plans to meet later, others were calling cabs. The air felt lighter, the kind that comes when a big event is over but you’re not ready to leave just yet.
Meera was busy talking to a colleague from Marketing about a new campaign, so I wandered towards the side of the hall where the exit to the driveway was. That’s where I found Ranjeet, speaking with one of the junior managers. He saw me and excused himself from the conversation.
“Heading out?” he asked.
“Soon,” I said. “Just waiting for Meera to finish her marketing gossip.”
He smiled. “I need a small favour, if you don’t mind.”
I tilted my head. “What kind of favour?”
“I’m leaving for Goa tomorrow morning,” he explained. “My daughter lives there with my parents. I try to spend at least a week with her every few months. But before I go, I need an important file from my home -it’s on a pen drive. It has some project data we might need urgently if something comes up while I’m away. I was going to collect it after the event, but since you’re here…”
“You want me to get it for you?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” he said. “I’ll be going now anyway. If you could follow me in your car to my place, I’ll grab it quickly and then you can head home from there. That way I can make sure you get out safely from here too. The basement parking is a bit lonely at this hour.”
I let out a small laugh. “Well, Adnan is staying over at Ammi’s place tonight, and Asif is away in Delhi for work… so I’m not exactly rushing home to anyone. But you owe me one for this.”
His expression softened. “Then I’ll make sure it’s quick. Ten minutes, that’s all,” he said, studying my face. Then, in a quieter tone, “After my wife passed away during the Corona time, I’ve been trying to keep things in order -for my daughter’s sake. She lives with my parents in Goa"
I felt a small tug in my chest at his words. “Alright. I’ll follow you.”
“Good,” he said, with that brief, warm smile of his. “Let’s wait for the crowd to thin a bit, then we’ll head out.”
While we waited, our talk drifted from which award surprised us to who gave the best speech, and of course, to the dessert counter that seemed more popular than the stage. He leaned closer and murmured, “By the way, you’ve outshone the trophies tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that your professional opinion or personal?”
“Both,” he said, his eyes scanning my saree with an appreciative warmth. “That colour… it’s dangerous. And you carry it like you know it.”
I smirked. “Dangerous for you, maybe.”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reply. “I think you’re enjoying making me say it twice.”
“Maybe,” I said, letting the word linger. Every now and then, someone would come by to say goodbye, and Ranjeet would pause to exchange polite words before turning back to me, as if picking up a conversation he wasn’t ready to let go of.
When the driveway looked clearer, he gestured towards the exit. “Shall we?”
I nodded, and we walked together through the soft hum of the departing crowd, towards a night that was suddenly feeling less ordinary than it had an hour ago.

[Yash121]

Outstanding update