Adultery The Untold Story of Abhiram's Erotic Journey - Part 1

[shailu4ever]

She wouldn’t plan to do anything deliberate.

But she hoped... something would shift.

Not in an obvious way.

Not in words.

But in quiet pauses.

A longer glance.

A stillness in the middle of a conversation.

The closeness of being just two people, alone in a home, with no rush to leave.

She didn’t know if she’d reach out to him—or even what that meant.

But part of her wished to be seen.

Not as someone married and managed.  

But as someone who still had that spark.

That curiosity.

That warmth that could make someone feel wanted, even in silence.

That wasn’t seduction. That was truth.

And in a way, that truth had become harder to ignore.

[shailu4ever]

A moment of guilt and anticipation

She stepped away from the window, suddenly aware of her bare feet on the floor.

Guilt edged its way into her awareness—not a loud reprimand, but a dull ache in the corners of her chest.

Her husband had called earlier that morning.

A routine check-in.

The usual update about his delayed return.

She had nodded through the conversation, her voice composed, her words kind.


He didn’t know.

And that thought alone made her heart tighten.


She wasn’t doing anything wrong.


Not yet.


But not yet wasn’t the same as never, and she knew it.


This dinner wasn’t innocent.

Not entirely.

It was hope disguised as a meal.

A gathering of breath and questions and closeness.

And she was letting it happen.

She returned to the kitchen and stirred the simmering pot, steam rising in warm spirals that fogged the glass on her upper cabinets.

The space was quiet except for the soft bubbling of dal, the faint crackle of mustard seeds in ghee.

Her phone buzzed. A message.

Abhi: “Shall I come around 8:15?”

She stared at it for a second. Then typed, “Perfect.”

And then deleted it.

She typed again: “Come hungry ?” and hit send.


It was nearly 6:00 now.


She wasn’t dressing up.

Not really.

But she had chosen the dress for the evening.

Her hair would fall naturally.

Her bindi would be smaller than usual.

The details were quiet, but intentional.

And in the quiet of her thoughts, she asked herself again—what are you really hoping for tonight, Meghana?

But no clear answer came.

Only a flutter.

A breath held too long.


Then the doorbell rang.

She looked at the clock again—6:48.

Too early for him.

She wiped her hands on the towel, walked over to the door, a strange mix of nervousness and excitement tightening her steps.


And opened it.


---

[shailu4ever]

Sorry all, could not post as much as yesterday. Little shopping day today.

[shailu4ever]

Scene: The Door Opens – And the Evening Changes

The door swung open.

Meghana’s breath caught—then faltered.

Not Abhi.

Not yet.

Instead, standing there, suitcase handle in one hand and a wide grin lighting up her entire face, was Varnika.

“Akka!” the younger woman beamed, breezing in with the kind of energy that didn’t wait for permission. “Surprise!”

Meghana blinked. “Varnika?”

“Yes, me! Who else do you know with this hair and these killer instincts?” Varnika twirled dramatically once she was inside, her long, dark hair catching the hallway light. She was dressed in soft linen pants and a pastel crop top, face glowing from travel and excitement. “Hyderabad just felt too far without a pitstop at my favorite sister’s house.”

“You’re not serious—what happened? You didn’t mention—”

“I just got the university’s confirmation this morning—two appointments this week, some stupid paperwork, and maybe a couple of interviews,” she said, dropping her bag with a thud. “I thought I’d stay here for a few days. You’re not secretly in Paris or anything, right?”

Meghana laughed lightly, masking the pang of a hundred shifted plans behind her eyes. “Of course not. Just… wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“Well, now you are!” Varnika flopped onto the sofa and stretched like she owned the place. “God, I missed your cooking. Is that ghee I smell? Please tell me there’s rasam in that pot.”

Meghana stood frozen for a second after closing the door behind Varnika. Her sister had waltzed in like a breeze — all chatter and perfume and city energy. And now, this quiet apartment was suddenly full.

She glanced at the kitchen, where the half-finished dinner waited — the lentil stew still simmering, the rice nearly done, the candles she’d half-considered lighting resting unlit on the table.

She hadn’t said anything about Abhi yet. Not even his name.

Varnika was still talking — unpacking her small bag into the guest room, flopping onto the bed, shouting something about how humid the train was and how her charger had died halfway.

Meghana stood by the kitchen island, her mind tugging in too many directions.

The doorbell would ring soon.

She could already feel it — the familiar double chime from downstairs.

She glanced at the clock. 7:54.

A decision needed to be made.

She moved to the guest room and leaned against the doorframe. “Varnu?”

Varnika turned, holding up a kurti against her chest. “Do you think I’ve gained weight? This one’s tight.”

Meghana offered a faint smile. “You look the same to me. Listen—uh—just so you know… I’d invited someone over for dinner tonight.”

Varnika paused. “Someone?”

Meghana forced a casual shrug. “A guy from downstairs. He’s helped me a couple of times. Just thought I’d thank him with dinner.”

“Oh. Is he… cute?” Her tone was teasing, but the eyes were sharp.

Meghana gave a practiced laugh. “Not really your type. Anyway, I just didn’t want you to be surprised.”

Varnika gave a thoughtful look, then flopped back on the bed. “No problem. I’ll be the mysterious younger sister. Silent and charming.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Maybe I’ll eat in the room.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Meghana said quickly. “It’s nothing formal. Just a casual dinner.”

But her stomach was tight.

She returned to the kitchen, stirred the stew without looking at it. The scent that had once thrilled her now felt off-balance.

And then, the bell rang.

[shailu4ever]

Abhi's Arrival

Meghana moved too quickly, as if hesitation would be a giveaway. 

She opened the door and saw him standing there — Abhi — holding a small box from the bakery down the street.

He smiled when he saw her, but it faltered the slightest bit when he noticed the change in her expression.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Am I… early?”

“No,” she said. “Right on time.” Then she hesitated, stepping aside. “There’s just… something I didn’t expect.”

He entered slowly, his eyes scanning the apartment, pausing when he saw Varnika at the dining table, scrolling her phone.

Varnika looked up. She blinked, then stood.

Before Meghana could say a word, she stepped forward. “Hi. I’m Varnika. You must be…”

Abhi offered his hand. “Abhi.”

Meghana closed her eyes just briefly. Of course. Varnika always had quick intuition.

“Abhi lives downstairs,” Meghana said quickly. “He’s helped me with a few things before. I’d invited him for dinner earlier, before I knew you were coming.”

Varnika gave a little grin. “Well, I hope there’s enough food for three.”

Meghana smiled tightly. “There is.”

They settled at the table. Plates were served. Rice. Stew. Roasted eggplant. The chutney she had prepared with a little extra ginger — he liked it that way.

But the meal felt… restrained.

Varnika asked questions like she always did. “So, Abhi, are you from Hyderabad?”

“What do you do?”

“Are you single?”

That last one came out just a beat too quickly. Meghana froze mid-sip of water.

Abhi, to his credit, handled it well — smiling and giving just the right amount of vagueness.

Varnika caught the look from her sister and added, “Just trying to figure out if Meghana’s neighbor is a serial killer or someone who knows how to boil an egg.”

They all laughed — but it was uneven, like a tablecloth that wouldn’t settle.

Meghana barely tasted her food.

She watched the way Abhi carefully avoided her eyes for too long, then met them again when he thought Varnika wasn’t looking.

She caught herself tracing the rim of her glass — restless, distracted.

This was not the evening she had imagined.

And yet, it wasn’t a complete loss. Because beneath the surface awkwardness, a different tension now simmered — quieter, more complicated. A stolen moment here, a longer glance there. A hundred words unspoken.

When the plates were cleared, and Varnika excused herself to take a long shower after her journey, Meghana and Abhi were briefly alone again in the kitchen.

[shailu4ever]

The send off

She looked at him as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

“I didn’t know she was coming. It was a surprise.”

Abhi nodded slowly. “Yeah. I figured.”

They stood there a moment longer. 

The soft hum of water in the bathroom.

The scent of ginger still in the air.

“I don’t think we can do yoga for a few days” she said.

He nodded. But her eyes said more.

He smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes.

Then he turned and left.

And Meghana stood at the counter.

Her hand resting on the empty box of dessert.

Heart still full of the sweetness that hadn’t had a chance to unfold.



---

[shailu4ever]

Varnika’s Thoughts — Behind the Door

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as Varnika leaned over the sink, dabbing water onto her face.

The steam felt good on her skin after the long journey — her face flushed.

Her legs stiff from the cramped train ride.

But that wasn’t what she was really thinking about.

She wiped the mirror slowly, eyes narrowing as her reflection cleared.

Abhi.

The name hadn’t come from Meghana.

She’d picked it up from the way he greeted them.

Smoothly.

Confidently.

His tone, his eyes, his posture — all spoke of a man comfortable in his skin.

And he was handsome.

Way too handsome for someone Meghana would casually describe as just someone who helps around downstairs.

Tall. Sharp jawline. Fair skin that caught the light just right.

Polite, but with that quiet assertiveness Varnika always noticed in men who weren’t trying too hard.

And yet… the way he looked at Meghana. Not often, but when he did — like there was history.

Not a lot, but just enough.

Interesting.


---

[shailu4ever]

She stepped out of the bathroom after a while, her damp hair falling over her shoulders, towel dbangd around her neck. She peeked into the kitchen — empty now. No shoes by the door. He had left.

She padded softly to Meghana’s room. Her sister was folding a dish towel, eyes distant.

“So,” Varnika said, perching on the edge of the bed, “that was Abhi.”

Meghana gave a small nod, noncommittal.

“Nice guy.”

“Yeah.”

“Tall. Smart. Not awkward.”

Meghana glanced up. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing.” Varnika grinned, but there was a glint in her eye. “Just saying. You never mentioned him before.”

“There was nothing to mention.”

That was the end of it — at least on the surface.

But when Varnika went to bed later, staring at the ceiling fan rotating softly above, her thoughts kept looping.

Something didn’t fit.

Her sister, who had never once spoken about any man after her marriage. Her sister, who always kept her world private, balanced, and poised — even when bored.

And this guy, who clearly wasn't just a neighbor who helps now and then.

No accusations.

No assumptions.

But something was brewing.

And Varnika wasn’t sure if she was just curious… or worried.



---

[shailu4ever]

Abhi’s Walk — Reflections Under Streetlights

The apartment door closed behind him with a soft click. The hallway light flickered once before steadying, and Abhi slowly walked toward the elevator, the bakery box still in his hand — untouched.

His footsteps echoed softly, his mind anything but quiet.

The evening had shifted the moment he saw the second pair of eyes at the table.

Varnika.

It wasn’t just the surprise of another guest — it was who she was. Younger. Strikingly pretty. Sharp-tongued and observant, much like Meghana but without the inner walls.

She had been watching him — that much he could tell. Trying to place him. Reading every glance between the sisters. Every pause in conversation.

And Meghana…

She hadn’t been herself.

The silkiness of her voice had stiffened. Her eyes didn’t linger the way they had during yoga. Her laugh came shorter, like it had somewhere else to be.

And he’d missed it.

He stepped out into the night air. It was cool, breezy — the kind of weather that usually made his walks pleasant. But tonight, everything felt unsettled. He walked a little faster.

He hadn’t come for food. He hadn’t come for conversation.

He had come because of the quiet unspoken invitation between them. The way her eyes had held his after yoga that morning. The lingering touch on his arm. The soft message behind her words — come tonight — that had carried so much more than politeness.

But that door never opened.

It stayed closed — behind the unexpected presence of a younger sister and a table that never allowed intimacy.

He reached the small park nearby and sat on the edge of a bench.

What now?

He didn’t blame Meghana. Family surprises happen. But the timing… it felt like the universe wasn’t ready for what might have happened tonight.

And yet, a strange thought came to him — not of disappointment, but of delay.

Not an ending. Just a pause.

The tension was still there.

The spark hadn’t died.

If anything, it had grown more dangerous.

Because now it had to hide.



And hiding things made them burn brighter.



---

[shailu4ever]

Hi Friends

I understand this might be disappointing, but it's necessary to create space for developing more intimate scenes between Meghana and Abhi. 

While Meghana is occupied with her sister, we can shift focus to Madhavi's story-line.

Buckle up and Hold tight...

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

Grocery Run and Glances – Gentle Teasing, Quiet Smiles

The Saturday afternoon sun cast long shadows across the apartment courtyard.

Abhi was heading home from from a quick errand, carrying a canvas tote bag.

As he stepped into the apartment complex, he spotted Madhavi just got down the cab and struggling with a couple of heavy grocery bags.

Her saree was a soft cream color today, the fabric light and flowing.

Her delicate gold bangles jingled faintly as she shifted the bags, trying to balance them.

Abhi called out, “Need some help?”

She looked up, surprised, then smiled—warm, but with a hint of mischief. “If you don’t mind.”

He stepped forward, taking one bag from her hand. As their fingers brushed, a faint spark seemed to pass between them.

“You have quite the shopping list,” he teased, eyes tracing the curve of her arm as she adjusted her pallu that slipped, showing the hidden treasures.

She laughed softly. “The family insists on fresh vegetables. It’s an endless chore.”

"You husband?" he asked.

She smiled. "He had some production call, so he is taking some calls from  home today.

They walked side by side, the corridor quiet except for their footsteps and the distant chatter of neighbors.

“So, how long have you lived here?” Abhi asked, stealing glances at her face framed by a few loose strands of hair.

“Almost two years,” she replied. “Married young, settled here.”

She gave a knowing smile. “How you like these apartments?  We like to keep an eye on newcomers.”

He grinned. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

She laughed, the sound light and musical. “Maybe a bit of both.”

As they reached their apartment, she glanced at him. “You cook?”

“Occasionally,” he admitted.

“Good,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll need to impress the neighbours someday.”

He smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment.

As they parted ways, she said, “See you around, Abhi.”

“Looking forward to it, Madhavi.”

She looked at him before just before closing the door from the corner of her smiling eyes.


He watched her with a smile, the gentle confidence in her, and knew this was just the beginning of something quietly electric.

[shailu4ever]

You will see some more scenes with Madhavi and also some more scenes with Meghana and Varnika.

I will start them later today

[Yash121]

Fantastic start

[Thewarrior100]

Abhi's charector is simple and perfect... Nice update... Waiting for your next update...

[shailu4ever]

Fantastic start

Thank you Yash121. Hope I can keep it throughout the story. I am glad that you are enjoying.

[shailu4ever]

Abhi's charector is simple and perfect... Nice update... Waiting for your next update...

Hi Thewarrior100

Really appreciate your feedback. I am glad that you liked it.

I am currently working on it and you will see a few updates today into tomorrow.

Your feedback helps me continue writing.

Thank you

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

Scene: Saturday, 4:42 p.m.

Abhi had just dropped his grocery bags by the kitchen counter when his phone buzzed. He already had a feeling who it might be.

Madhavi (4:42 p.m.):
Hope your royal highness managed to lift those bags without a shoulder injury. ?

He smiled.

Abhi (4:43 p.m.):
Barely. Might need physio. Or someone to feed me warm dal.

Madhavi (4:43 p.m.):
Oh, please. You looked like you were showing off. Even offered to carry *mine*, remember?

Abhi (4:44 p.m.):
What can I say? Chivalry lives. Especially near flat 202.

A pause.

Madhavi (4:45 p.m.):
Hmm. If chivalry comes with an appetite, maybe you should come over tonight.
Sandeep’s around. We’re doing a quiet dinner.
You’re invited.

Abhi (4:46 p.m.):
Is this the part where I act surprised and honored? Or just admit I was hoping you’d say that?

Madhavi (4:46 p.m.):
Don’t get too smug. It’s mostly because Sandeep made extra curry.
But maybe I saved your favorite rice too.

Abhi (4:47 p.m.):
See, now I’m blushing.
What time’s the interrogation—I mean dinner?

Madhavi (4:48 p.m.):
8. But if you’re bored earlier, you can wander in and *pretend* to help.
I promise not to drop the shawl this time.

Abhi laughed quietly, rereading the line.

Abhi (4:49 p.m.):
Ah, the shawl. That was an accident, was it?
Highly suspicious.

Madhavi (4:50 p.m.):
Accidents happen when one’s distracted. Could happen again.
Bring dessert. Or a good story. Or both.

Abhi (4:51 p.m.):
Done. I’ll bring the world’s best mango kulfi.
And one slightly flushed face

Madhavi (4:52 p.m.):
Good. Leave the blushing at the door. Keep the smile.

He put the phone down gently, leaning back into the soft cushion of the sofa. It was nothing dramatic. Just messages. Just dinner.

But somehow, it made his apartment feel less quiet. And the evening ahead... a little warmer.

[shailu4ever]

Saturday Evening – Dinner at Flat 202

The corridor was quiet as Abhi stepped out of his flat at 7:55 p.m., holding a small dessert box in his hand. The light outside Flat 202 glowed softly, casting golden pools onto the tiled floor.

He knocked lightly.

A moment later, Madhavi opened the door—dressed in a tasteful, sky-blue kurti with light silver thread work near the collar.

Her hair was loosely tied back, with a few strands falling along her cheek.

Simple, elegant, completely in character.

“There you are,” she said, smiling. “And with sweets! I was hoping you'd remember.”

“I take dinner invitations seriously,” he replied.

She laughed gently and stepped aside. “Come in. Sandeep’s just wrapping up a call.”

The apartment was warmly lit, clean but lived-in.

The dining table was neatly set—plates stacked, bowls covered with lids, two glasses of water already poured.

The aroma of fresh coriander and simmering dal lingered in the air.

Abhi handed over the box. “The world’s best mango kulfi, as promised”

“You chose well,” she said. “kulfi is my favorite.”

Abhi was reading the inner meaning, when she said “You chose well,”  

Just then, Sandeep walked out of the study, still putting away his phone.

“Abhi! Glad you could come. Hope we didn’t pull you away from anything.”

“Not at all,” Abhi said, standing up. “Looking forward to this.”

They sat down around the table, and Madhavi began serving.

As she ladled out the sambar and rice, her movements were calm and efficient.

There was no awkwardness—just a quiet hospitality in her rhythm.

The kind you develop over time.

“So how’s your weekend going?” Sandeep asked, scooping curry onto his plate.

“Quiet,” Abhi replied. “Caught up on some reading. Bit of work too. But mostly just lazy.”

“That’s the best kind,” Madhavi added, passing him a bowl of aloo fry. “Lazy weekends are underrated.”

Abhi smiled. “If they also come with dinner invitations, even better.”

They all laughed. The conversation drifted to their apartment’s water pressure issues, then to a neighbor who kept playing loud music at odd hours.

As the plates slowly emptied, Sandeep leaned back in his chair. “You drive, Abhi?”

[shailu4ever]

“Yes,” Abhi said, a little surprised. “Though not often these days. Why?”

“I might need a small favor tomorrow,” Sandeep said.

“There’s a half-sari function for Madhavi’s niece in Secunderabad. I was supposed to take her, but something's come up at the plant. Production snag.”

“Oh,” Madhavi said softly. “Is it serious?”

“Could be. They need me on the floor for most of the day. Otherwise, I'd have gone.”

He turned to Abhi. “It’s around 9:30 in the morning. You could take my car. It’s a bit of a drive, but not too bad. You’d be back by evening.”

Madhavi looked up at Abhi briefly, her expression somewhere between surprise and hope.

Abhi hesitated, but only for a moment. “Sure, I don’t mind. Happy to help.”

“Perfect,” Sandeep said, clearly relieved. “She doesn’t like booking cabs alone for these kinds of events. And some of her cousins will be there, so she won’t need you to hang around.”

“I’ll bring a book,” Abhi joked.

“I’m sure they’ll feed you well too,” Madhavi said with a small smile.

Sandeep laughed. “That’s true. You might not come back.”

They all chuckled. Then Sandeep stood. “Let me get the spare car keys.”

As he walked to the other room, Abhi turned slightly to Madhavi. “I didn’t know you had a niece.”

“Lots of things you don’t know about me,” she said softly, then added, “It’s my cousin’s daughter actually. She’s turning fifteen.”

“Ah,” he said. “Big day.”

She nodded, then after a moment said, “Thanks for offering. I know it’s not exactly your Sunday plan.”

“It’s fine,” Abhi said. “I could use the drive. And the company.”

Their eyes met for a moment—gentle, unreadable.

Sandeep returned with the keys and a small printed card. “Here’s the venue. Parking might be tight, but just call if you need anything.”

Abhi took them with a nod.

After dessert—Madhavi insisted on warming the gulab jamuns just a little—they all sat for a few more minutes before Abhi stood to leave.

“Thanks for dinner. It was wonderful,” he said sincerely.

“You’re welcome anytime,” Madhavi said, walking with him to the door.

Sandeep waved from inside. “Don’t forget 9:15 sharp tomorrow!”

As the door gently clicked shut behind him, Abhi stood in the corridor for a second longer than needed. The air was cooler now, the jasmine scent stronger.

The evening had been simple. But under its quiet surface, something unspoken had moved.

[shailu4ever]

Sunday Morning Drive – Abhi and Madhavi

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Abhi's apartment.

It was just past 9:15 AM when he stepped out, freshly showered and dressed in a crisp cream shirt and dark jeans, and a pair of brown leather loafers.

As he locked the door, he turned to see Madhavi waiting outside her flat — Flat 202.

She stood gracefully, adjusting her delicate saree.

It was a soft lilac shade with a subtle shimmer, the kind that caught the light and wrapped around her like water.

The fabric hugged her curves in a way that seemed unintentional, yet impossible to ignore.

Her sleeveless blouse was simple but revealing enough to draw attention — a low back, thin straps, and a neckline that hinted at fullness beneath.

Her glossy black hair was pinned loosely, a few tendrils brushing her cheeks.

A pair of pearl studs dangled from her ears.


She looked up and smiled. "You’re early. Or am I late?"

"Right on time," Abhi replied, returning her smile.

As they walked toward Sandeep's car, she clutched her small silver clutch and murmured, "I hope I’m not troubling you, Abhi. I know your Sundays are precious."

He unlocked the car and opened the door for her. "Not at all. It’s a pleasure, Madhavi."

Inside the car, the air felt cooler, more enclosed — almost like a bubble separate from the rest of the world.

It is not like bus ride.  Even though they sit closer in bus, this is more private

Abhi started the engine and adjusted his rear-view mirror.

As he did, he caught a glimpse of her back — bare, save for the blouse’s delicate straps.

She was adjusting her pallu, pulling it across her chest, but for a moment, it had slipped, giving him a view of the smooth skin along her side.


She caught him glancing.


"You’ve become more confident in looking at things you’re not supposed to," she said softly, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

Abhi chuckled under his breath. "Some things are hard to ignore."

Madhavi leaned back, her fingers idly playing with the corner of her saree.

"You were so shy during those bus rides. You’d sit stiffly, even when the seat forced us shoulder-to-shoulder."

"I was scared I’d fall for a married woman," he said before realizing it had come out louder than intended.


There was a pause.


She looked out the window, but he saw her smile gently. "And did you?"

He hesitated. "I don’t know. I just know I still remember how you smelled every time I got off the bus."

She turned to face him then, fully, her eyes deep and searching.


Her pallu had slipped slightly again, resting low on one arm, and she didn’t correct it.


"There’s something about being seen, Abhi," she said quietly. "Not just noticed. Seen. With Sandeep, life is... coordinated. Familiar. But with you..."

Her voice trailed off. The traffic slowed at a signal. Silence settled.

Abhi reached for the gear, and as he did, her hand brushed against his. Neither pulled away immediately.

She looked down, then let out a soft breath. "You make me feel like a woman. Not just a wife."

The light turned green.

They drove in silence for a while, the tension lingering like a melody with no resolution. The city blurred around them. They weren’t touching, but something in the air pulsed — slow, warm, electric.

As they neared Secunderabad, she broke the silence. "Sometimes I wonder if I’d met you before I got married... would I have waited longer to say yes to someone else."


Abhi swallowed. He didn’t respond.


This wasn’t just a drive.

Something had shifted again.



---