Adultery Geetha ~ teacher

[Phoneix1]

is it the same story u wrote in telugu
anyways hope u get good reception in english section
in terms of views "Shirpa:Rural Posting" , "Dhika:An innocent Angel" are highest but due to thier abrupt halt u will definitely cross them in no time as u got the pulse in the story

hope u give faster updates broo...

[Haran000]

Excellent. Loved the story. So many characters, so much potential. Hope for a good development.

Thank you 

[Haran000]

is it the same story u wrote in telugu
anyways hope u get good reception in english section
in terms of views "Shirpa:Rural Posting" , "Dhika:An innocent Angel" are highest but due to thier abrupt halt u will definitely cross them in no time as u got the pulse in the story

hope u give faster updates broo...

Yes. It’s a hit in Telugu. Now I’m posting in English. Thank you.

[nallapaiyan2]

Yes. It’s a hit in Telugu. Now I’m posting in English. Thank you.

thanks for the confirmation, i started to read the telugu story by google translation but not upto to the mark. so going to continue reading here..

[Phoneix1]

thanks for the confirmation, i started to read the telugu story by google translation but not upto to the mark. so going to continue reading here..

Telugu is telugu broo
The language and the subtleness in the original telugu is top notch 

But if you are a non- telugu reader english is best
Google translations is worse

[exbiixossip2]

bekaar me story ko bahut lamba kheench rahe ho...

jisse sab bekaar ho jata hai or ek bakbaas story ban jati hai...

time bekaar karna hai is story ko read karke...

[Phoneix1]

bekaar me story ko bahut lamba kheench rahe ho...

jisse sab bekaar ho jata hai or ek bakbaas story ban jati hai...

time bekaar karna hai is story ko read karke...

TRANSLATION

You are needlessly dragging the story too long

This makes everything useless and turns into a nonsense story

You have to waste time reading this story

[exbiixossip2]

bekaar me story ko bahut lamba kheench rahe ho...

jisse sab bekaar ho jata hai or ek bakbaas story ban jati hai...

time bekaar karna hai is story ko read karke...

[Projectmp]

The story is going amazing. Please keep the same build up. Eagerly waiting for next update

[Phoneix1]

bekaar me story ko bahut lamba kheench rahe ho...

jisse sab bekaar ho jata hai or ek bakbaas story ban jati hai...

time bekaar karna hai is story ko read karke...

What's ur problem bhai

[Haran000]

bekaar me story ko bahut lamba kheench rahe ho...

jisse sab bekaar ho jata hai or ek bakbaas story ban jati hai...

time bekaar karna hai is story ko read karke...

Bhayyaa... Accha or bekaar insaan ka soch mein hotha, koi kahani bekaar nahi hoga. kuch logh ko kuch cheeje pasand hein, agar wo cheej kahani mein nahi hei tho wo logh kahani ko bekaar kahega.

Kamjor logonko zyada patience nahi hotha. 

Sabar ka fal meeta hotha hai. Yaadh rakho. 

[Haran000]

4. Friendship 

The morning sun, still gentle, painted the street outside Geeta's window in soft hues. A dog’s distant barks pierced the Saturday quiet, pulling her from the depths of sleep. She stretched, a long, languid movement, then sat up, her fingers deftly gathering her long braid into a neat bun. Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, found her phone. A smile touched her lips as she saw Gautam’s name.


She opened the messages to find mail of flight tickets – a vibrant promise of an upcoming adventure. Excitement bubbled within her, and without a second thought, she video-called him.

“In few days, you and I will be in Dubai for five days.”

Geeta brought the phone to her lips, pressing a silent kiss to the screen, a playful gesture of affection.

“Darling,” Gautam murmured, and Geeta’s smile widened, sweet and genuine.

“Did you just wake up?” he teased.

“Yes…”

“Why so late? What about college?”

“Today’s a holiday.”

“Oh… So, are you making anything special?”

Geeta pouted, a playful narrowing of her eyes. “If I do, asking as if you’re going to eat it.”

Gautam chuckled. “Haha… Oh, what’s with the sulking?”

“I’m worried if you’re eating properly there or not,” she admitted, a hint of genuine concern in her voice.

“I need to tell you something?” he said, his tone shifting.

“What?”

“Did Mom call you?”

“Oh, Mother-in-law?… She called a couple of days ago.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing much, just usual things.”

Gautam’s voice dropped, a subtle sadness seeping in. “Geeta, Mom…”

“What is it?” she prompted, her brow furrowing.

“It’s the same, Geeta, about children… she keeps asking when.”

“And what did you say?”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“You’re the one who said after the work there is done,” Geeta reminded him gently.

“Yes, but I don’t know how to tell Mom.”

“Darling, if you’re not here at that time, I can’t handle pregnancy,” Geeta confessed, a touch of vulnerability in her voice.

“Hmm… Okay, I’ll tell her something. Bye…”

“Oh, can’t we talk a bit more?” she pleaded, not wanting the conversation to end.

“I’ll call you in another hour, okay?”

“You must call, otherwise, I won’t come there,” she playfully threatened.

“Hey, don’t say that, I’ll call.”

Geeta put the phone aside, a sigh escaping her lips. "These mothers-in-laws have nothing to do but talk about their daughter-in-law being pregnant, and their others daughter-in-law being pregnant, and how my daughter-in-law should also be pregnant. It's a big fuss. I'm upset that her son isn't living properly with his wife, and she's telling me to bite mangoes".

She shook her head, a familiar frustration bubbling up. She pushed the thoughts aside and immersed herself in the rhythm of household chores, her ears attuned for the expected call.

Two hours later, the phone finally rang.

“Oh my god, an hour passed this fast?” Geeta teased, a smile in her voice.

“Sorry…” Gautam replied, sounding a little sheepish.

“It’s okay, what are you doing?”

“Nothing much, just working, but I’m bored.”

“Didn’t you make any friends there?”

“Why not, I did. But they are also busy.”

“Hmm…”

“So, what are you cooking?”

“I don’t know, I was just about to go to the market when the gas refill arrived.”

“Oh… shriram family there?”

“No, they went to their village. They might be back in a couple of days.”

A silence stretched between them, comfortable but tinged with something unspoken.

“Talk?” Geeta prompted softly.

“Nothing, just thinking when you’ll come.” His voice was tinged with longing.

“Hey, it’s just few more days, it’ll pass quickly,” she reassured him. “When I come, you have to show me everything. It won’t be good if you say you can’t go there.”

“Hey, silly girl, I’ll take leave for as long as you’re here. Okay?”

“Hmm…”

“Your wish, do some shopping. Jewelry and electronics are all cheap here.”

“I’m missing you darling,” Geeta confessed, the words a gentle ache in her chest.

“Hey, silly girl, didn’t I tell you not to say that again? It’s just one more year, and then I’ll come back, and we’ll start our own company. We’ll be owners of a start-up darling. All this is nothing compared to that.” His voice was filled with a vibrant, infectious optimism.

“Oh, will I be an owner?” A hopeful flutter stirred within her.

“Nothing exists without you, my honey.”

Geeta fell silent, a warmth spreading through her.

“Are you listening?” Gautam asked softly.

“Hmm…”

“Don’t think too much about me, we’ll meet when you come.”

“Okay, I’ll go to the market.”

“Bye…”

The call ended, leaving Geeta with a blend of anticipation for their upcoming trip and a quiet determination for their shared future.


“I spoke with him and then headed to the market. I locked the house, walked north, turned right, and went straight towards our college's intersection. The morning sun was already making its presence felt, my canvas bag slung over my shoulder. After crossing the divider in front of the rose bush, I turned left, opposite the way to our college, walked another ten to ninety feet, and the market was at the corner of that lane.

My first stop was the local market, a vibrant symphony of sights and sounds. I navigated through the bustling aisles, picking out a kilo of glossy purple eggplants, a small mountain of onions, a plump cauliflower, and, of course, two kilos of bright red tomatoes. The tomatoes were 160 rupees a kilo, a price that would have once made me hesitate, but not anymore. My husband's good earnings meant I could indulge without a second thought. Today, it was eggs and tomatoes. Tomorrow, cauliflower. The day after, eggplant and tomatoes. And for a grand finale to the week, a chicken—enough to keep our kitchen humming.

Bag laden, I began the walk home. My path led me across the road, four houses down from the charming rose-bush house, to the familiar supermarket I always frequented. Inside, I moved with purpose, grabbing a jar of pungent ginger-garlic paste, a packet of sanitary pads, a turmeric powder and a jar of golden honey.

When I approached the counter, the cashier was in a world of his own. He stared blankly into the distance, a faint trail of drool escaping the corner of his mouth, his eyes unblinking and vacant.

"Brother, could you pack these?" I asked, placing my purchases on the counter with a gentle thud.

He didn't stir, completely oblivious to my presence. I tried again, a little louder this time, but he remained lost in his reverie. Impatience bubbling, I slammed my right hand on the table with a sharp "DAP!" The sound jolted him awake. He blinked, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his left elbow shirt, and began to scan my items. I couldn't help but think of Comedy Brahma, the character from the movie, sleeping with his eyes wide open. As the familiar beeps of the scanner filled the air, I heard the soft approach of footsteps. A lovely, unmistakable fragrance intensified, and within a couple of seconds, a lady I could recognise stood beside me.

"Could you bill these too?" Her voice was like a melody, sweet and clear, and her perfume smelled wonderfully jasmine.

The cashier, who moments ago had been an unmoving statue, transformed. In half a second, he spun towards her, his eyes wide and excited, a smile blooming on his face.

"One moment, Madam, after hers, it's yours," he chirped, and in a flurry of motion, he scanned my remaining items. He handed me my bill, then eagerly took her two items and began scanning them. She paid quickly with her phone, a blur of digital transaction.
He hadn't even taken my money yet, but her items were already bagged and in her hands.

"Bye," she said, a polite nod, and then she was gone. I gathered my own bags, a bit bewildered by the sudden shift in his demeanor, and stepped outside.

Through the gleaming glass doors, I watched her walk ahead. She stopped at her scooter, and then, as if sensing my gaze, she turned. 

My pupils dilated, a wide smile spreading across my face. In that instant, a flood of old memories, warm and vibrant, rushed into my mind.

Now I understood the cashier's blank stare, the drooling, the sudden animation. It wasn't his fault; it was her. That beauty, that quickness, that innate pride, that intelligence, that radiating presence—it all belonged to one person alone.

A sudden anxiety tightened my throat. What if she left without seeing me? 

"Akka... stop... Sin... Sindhu Akka!" The words tumbled out, breathless.

Hearing her name, she looked at me. Her eyes—anyone who saw them would be instantly mesmerized. I walked forward, a skip in my step, and stood directly in front of her.



Immediately, she swung her legs off the scooter, her face breaking into a radiant smile. 

"Geethuu!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a loving hug. She stepped back, her eyes sparkling with happiness. Our friendship had always been like that—an unspoken bond, instantly rekindled.

Sindhu is my cousin sister. Our both families got into some quarrels, that issue separated us these many years. But we as individuals never got anything with those matters. We met in college and lived as friends in past.

"How are you? What are you doing here?" she asked, shaking my shoulder excitedly.

"We live here now," I replied, still a little stunned by the serendipitous encounter.

"Anyway, we met ages ago in college. You've become fair and sexy”, Sindhu's eyes twinkled. Then looking below at my mangalsutra, "Really ? When did you get married? You skinny…. got chubby now, big boobs, ush.. bigger than mine, ey..”

"Chi po!" I laughed, a familiar warmth spreading through me. "You haven't changed at all. Still the same, huh?"

"Hmm... I was just kidding," she said, a playful glint in her eye. "Come on, let's go to my house, it's right here."

"No, Akka, you come to my house first," I insisted.

"Listen," she said, already swinging her leg over her scooter. "Let's go to my house. I'll drop you off at your place, just get on."




The scooter hummed along, Sindhu at the helm, when Geetha, spotting a familiar landmark, exclaimed, "Akka, that's my house!"

"Okay, we'll come this way again," Sindhu replied, a pleasant promise in her voice. A short distance later, a right turn led them onto Sindhu's street. As they entered, Geetha's gaze landed on a house, and a quiet gasp escaped her lips.

"This is my house…" Sindhu announced, pointing to a nearby dwelling.

So, shiva is Sindhu Akka's husband? Oh my god! Geetha's mind raced, a sudden realization dawning on her.

Just then, Sindhu brought the scooter to a halt in front of her home. Geetha dismounted, and Sindhu, after parking the vehicle, moved to unlock the door. Shiva, it seemed, wasn't home.

"Come on in, why are you standing there?" Sindhu called out, a warm invitation.

"Oh, Akka, I'm coming," Geetha replied, snapping out of her momentary daze.

Once inside, Sindhu took Geetha's hand, guiding her to the sofa. As Geetha settled down, Sindhu smiled. "You've changed so much, you've become fair. Love marriage?"

"No, arranged, Akka," Geetha answered, a slight blush dusting her cheeks.

"What does your husband do?" Sindhu inquired.

"He's in business management, Akka. Currently, he's a manager in Dubai."

"In Dubai? So, you live alone at home?"

"Yes, Akka. What does your husband do?"

"My husband is a scientist."

"Children?" Geetha asked.

Sindhu let out a playful scoff. "Hey, I've only been married for a year!"

"Oh, really? Did you delay for studies?"

"Hmm… What about you? You got married quickly, it seems?" Sindhu mused.

"I don't know, Akka. My family found a match, I liked him too, so I got married."

"Was he good enough for you to agree so easily?" Sindhu pressed, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Geetha's blush deepened.

"Tell me?" Sindhu coaxed.

"Yes…" Geetha admitted softly.

Their conversation flowed for a while until Geetha's phone chimed. "Oh Bharath, tell me?"

"It's a holiday today, miss. Is there tuition? Should I come?" a young voice inquired from the other end.

"Come, Bharath. In the evening," Geetha instructed.

After Bharath hung up, Sindhu's curiosity piqued. "Who is Bharath?"

"I'm working as a teacher, Akka. Bharath is a student for tuition."

"Oh… that's good. You're working as a teacher instead of staying home. That's nice."

"Akka, I'll take my leave now," Geetha said, making a move to stand.

"Stay and have lunch," Sindhu insisted.

"Uh!..." Geetha stammered, caught off guard.

"No means no," Sindhu declared with a mock sternness, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Okay," Geetha conceded, settling back down.

As they ate, Sindhu's phone lay beside her plate. Suddenly, it rang, displaying Shiva's photo. She picked up, putting it on loudspeaker.

"What are you doing? Had lunch?" Shiva's voice boomed.

"Yes, I'm eating now," Sindhu replied, taking a bite.

"I'm just eating a Dairy Milk chocolate now. I tore the cover in the middle, made it like a cup, and as I'm licking the cream with my tongue, ah… your pussy comes to mind."

At Shiva's brazen words, Sindhu's face flushed crimson. With a swift motion, she snatched the phone and deactivated the speaker. Geetha, who had heard every word, felt a strange, novel sensation. The sheer bluntness of Shiva's comment sent an unfamiliar ripple of goosebumps across her skin. Sindhu, phone pressed to her ear, hissed, "Hey, waste fellow, my friend is here, and I'm eating with the speaker on."

"You should have told me first," Shiva retorted, his voice still audible, albeit faintly, to Geetha.

"Hang up the phone," Sindhu commanded, her voice tight with embarrassment.

"Wait, wait, is tonight okay?" Shiva pressed on.

"What?" Sindhu whispered.

"There's still half the cream left, shall I put it in your thighs and lick it tonight?"

"Ugh… you shameless man, we'll see when you come home, bye." Sindhu stammered, her voice a mix of exasperation and a hint of amusement, before she quickly ended the call.

Geetha continued eating, a peculiar silence hanging between them. Sindhu glanced at Geetha, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Sindhu knew Geetha had heard, and with a quiet acceptance, she let the moment pass.



The scent of Sindhu's lunch still lingered faintly as Geetha drifted into a deep sleep, the afternoon quiet a perfect lullaby after Sindhu had dropped her home and departed. She woke with a start, the stifling heat a sharp contrast to her earlier slumber. The power was out, and the digital clock on her nightstand glowed 5:40. Bharath would be arriving soon. A quick splash of water on her face, and she headed next door to Vimala’s. Just as she stepped out, Bharath appeared, entering the gate with a polite, “Good evening, Miss.”

“Oh… Good evening, Bharath, sit down, I’ll be back,” Geetha replied, gesturing towards the living room. Bharath settled onto the sofa, pulling out his books. 

A few minutes later, Geetha re-entered, her arms laden with the clothes she’d hung out to dry.

“Take out your Maths book, I’ll give you a test,” she announced.

Bharath looked up, startled. “A test…! Why?”

Geetha raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, you don’t want one?” She walked into the bedroom, placing the clothes on a chair, and returned.

“Why only me, Miss? We have tests in class, don’t we?” he protested.

“You come to tuition to practice, right? So, this is also like practice,” Geetha countered.

“Hmm… But I come to tuition because you teach, right?” Bharath pressed.

“That’s how you’ll know if you make mistakes. I’ll give you three problems to do.” She picked up a book, jotted down three questions, and handed them to him.

Bharath began working, Geetha sitting beside him, meticulously observing his every stroke. He completed one problem, then paused on the next.

“Miss, don’t look at me like that; it scares me. I can’t do the problem,” he mumbled.

Geetha chuckled and leaned back. “Okay, okay, do it.” She spent a few moments on her phone. Bharath, however, remained stuck, unable to proceed with the second question. He turned, looking at her hesitantly.

“Miss?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Can I open the book once and check this method?”

“I told you yesterday, did you forget?” Geetha reminded him.

Bharath scratched his head, attempting to write again, but the solution eluded him. Geetha noticed him trying to solve the same question in a different way. “What is this, Bharath? You can’t do it like that. Give it to me, I’ll show you…” She took the book, crossed out his attempt, and began writing the correct solution beside it. “Look.”

“Ah!… Miss.” Bharath leaned closer, his face resting against Geetha’s shoulder as he peered at the book. “What’s here? ‘Find area of sphere’? And you’re writing about a circle.” 

Geetha began to correct it, and Bharath listened intently, his right arm finding its way around her shoulders.

A shiver ran through Geetha as his hand settled there.

“And? What else, Miss…?” Bharath prompted.

“Is he doing this intentionally, remembering yesterday, or did he just forget? ” Geetha wondered, but she continued explaining. Bharath, meanwhile, felt an irresistible urge to gently touch Geetha’s neck with his cheek, to lean into her. Her body scent, just like the day before, filled his senses, intoxicating him.

“Here, do this problem again without looking…” Geetha instructed.

“Ah… Miss, your hair smells super,” Bharath murmured.

“You said that the other day too,” Geetha replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Seriously, I just feel like staying like this.” His words sent a tingle through Geetha’s body. 

She placed her hand on his face and gently pushed him away.

“That’s enough, get up. Do that.”

Bharath diligently wrote down the solution. “There’s one more, do that too,” Geetha added.

“Miss, please, no Maths today. I’ll study something else.”

“Okay, study.”

Minutes later, the sun dipped below the horizon. As Bharath studied, his vision blurred in the fading light. “By the way, Miss, why aren’t you turning on the light?”

“It’s not that, there’s no power,” Geetha explained.

“You have such a big house, don’t you have an inverter? What’s wrong with you, Miss?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t paid much attention. It goes out too often these days.”

“That’s true too.” Bharath rose and stepped outside with his book. Geetha messaged Gautam, but there was no reply. She leaned her eyes closed.

Bharath stood watching Jatin playing next door at Vimala’s.

“Hi Bharath Anna…” Jatin called out.

“Oh… What are you doing?”

“The power’s out, I was playing a game. Anna, shall we play shuttle?”

“It’ll get dark, you won’t be able to see. Anyway, I’m leaving now.” He chatted with Jatin for a moment before coming back inside and putting his books into his bag. Geetha was still leaning, her eyes closed. He gently tapped her hand to rouse her.

“Miss…. Did you fall asleep?”

She started awake. “Ah!… What happened, Bharath?”

“Miss, the power doesn’t seem to be coming back soon. I’ll leave then.”

Geetha reached out, took his hand, and pulled him onto the sofa. “Wait, stay a bit longer, Bharath. You can go as soon as the power comes back. Okay? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Why, Miss, are you scared of darkness?” Bharath teased.

“It’s nothing like that.”

Bharath laughed. Geetha playfully pointed a finger at him. “Hey….”

“Haha… Okay, okay, I’ll stay.” She placed her hand on his arm and pulled him closer. Her right hand was pressed against Geetha’s left side, and Geetha leaned completely into him. Bharath found her warmth comforting.

“Bharath, next week I’m going to meet Gautam Sir.”

“What, you going to Dubai?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes. For five days.”

“Oh, only five days?”

“Why did you say that?”

“Well, you’re going after so many days, so five days is a short time.”

A small smile played on Geetha’s lips as she gently patted Bharath’s forehead. “I’m going on a trip, I can’t stay there. And our principal said he won’t give more than a week’s leave anyway.”

“What does that old man know, Miss? What’s wrong with giving you time if you’re sad?” Bharath retorted.

“Hey…. How can you talk about the principal like that? Wait I’ll tell him at college tomorrow.”

“No, no, Miss, sorry.”

“Hmm…..” Geetha paused. “’What does the old man know?’ Why do you say that? What do you know then?”

“That’s what, Miss, you’re missing Sir. Everyone knows that a husband and wife being far apart is difficult, right?”

“Oh, you know quite a lot. Tell me what else you know?”

Bharath hesitated, a pause stretching between them. “What else is there? Nothing, Miss.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, Miss.” He then added, “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask.”

“But you shouldn’t scold me?”

Geetha turned, tilting her head back to look into his eyes. Bharath, slightly unnerved, tried to pull away, but she held his shoulder, stopping him. “Ask first?”

“It’s about you…. Before marriage…?”

“Oh… Before marriage? What?”

“Oh no, not that, Miss. I shouldn’t ask all that. Sorry.”

“Hey, ask. What’s wrong with it? I’ll only know if you ask, right?” Geetha encouraged.

“It’s just, Miss, did you have a boyfriend before you got married? Sorry, Miss…. I mean like a friend, sorry.”

Geetha found his stammering amusing. She put her hand to her mouth, laughing shyly. 

“Haha…… Is that all? I won’t say anything. Why did you ask that?”

“It’s just, Miss, boys in college chase after girls, and you’re so beautiful.”

“Boyfriend, not really, but…”

“Ah!… But…” Bharath’s eyes widened with anticipation.

Geetha leaned back on the sofa, looking at Bharath with a soft, alluring smile.

“Oh, please tell me, Miss….” he pleaded eagerly.

“I chatted with a boy on Facebook.”

“Really, what’s his name, Miss?”

“Uh-uh, I won’t tell.”

“At least tell me the story?”

“Bharath, how can I tell you? It’s difficult, leave it.”

“Oh, please, Miss, you can tell me…” He held her hands and begged, until finally, with a sigh, she agreed, saying, “Okay.”


Geetha: Back then the glow of the clock read past nine when Papa walked in, his voice already a cadence of praise for some young man. “A true expert, I tell you,” he’d declared, shedding the day’s weariness with each word, “He oversaw all the repairs, fixed those connections better than the staff ever could.” A little while later, Papa’s phone buzzed. “Oh, son, I’ve arrived, ha… no problem.” The young man, it turned out, had dropped him off near the bus stand on his bike and had even called to ensure he’d reached home safely. Papa, in turn, had been effusive in his thanks.

The following day, Papa returned at six in the evening. He was in the bathroom when his phone rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen. I answered, explaining, “My father is in the bathroom; I’ll tell him to call you back.” I hung up, but the phone rang again. “Your voice is nice,” the voice on the other end said when I reiterated my father’s unavailability. What is this guy saying? I thought, cutting the call short. He persisted, calling a third time. “My father will call when he comes,” I stated, hanging up once more.

He called again. “Don’t you understand? Wait ten minutes,” I said, my patience fraying. His response was immediate, “You can say something for these ten minutes; I’ll just sit and listen to your voice.” My irritation flared. “I don’t even know who you are. Why are you asking that? I won’t talk,” I retorted, ending the call. Yet, he called once more. “Hey, why are you bothering me? What do you want with me?” I demanded. He chuckled. “I told you, it’s nice when you talk.” Exasperated, I snapped, “I’m not well, okay, hang up,” and cut the call, retreating to the comfort of my bed.

This time, the phone’s insistent ring continued. My sister, entering the room, picked it up. After a brief exchange, she turned to me, phone extended. “Akka, it’s for you.”

“Hello…” I said, taking the phone.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

He then stated his own name. “You can tell your name, right?”

“I don’t need to tell you.”

“It’s okay, what’s in a name? It’s enough that you’re talking. Just as the cuckoo hiding in the branches, though unseen, its cooing is so sweet, even though you’re unseen, your voice is very nice. Can you talk for a while, cuckoo?”

“My name is not Cuckoo.”

“If you don’t tell your name, I’ll call you Cuckoo.”

“Whatever you think, what do I care? I’m hanging up.”

“Okay.”

The moment he said “okay,” I disconnected the call. Five minutes passed, then more. He didn’t call back. I sat there, staring at the silent phone, a strange feeling of confusion stirring within me. Why, after all that persistent bothering and compliments about my voice, had he suddenly stopped?

“He didn’t call, right?” Bharat’s voice broke my reverie.

“Ha… how did you know?” I asked, surprised.

“He used reverse psychology,” Bharat explained, a knowing look in his eyes. “He puffed you up and then left you hanging, and that made you mad because he just abandoned you, right?”

“Hmm, yes. How did you guess?”

“Just a guess, Miss. What happened next?”

Papa emerged from the bathroom, and I handed him the phone, mentioning that some boy had called. My sister and I then settled outside. Later that night, as I scrolled through Facebook on Papa’s phone, my thoughts drifted back to him. Just then, a message popped up: “Hey Cuckoo, do you have a phone?” I ignored it, then quickly deleted the message, a flicker of worry about Papa seeing it. Another message appeared: “If you see and don’t reply, you’ll give birth to two daughters.” For some inexplicable reason, I laughed, then typed a reply: “Not like that, if you lie, you’ll have daughters.”

“Anyway, won’t you call me?”

“Did your phone run out of money?”

“Yes, my phone balance ran out.”

“Then send messages.”

“I want to hear your voice, Cuckoo, won’t you call?”

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll put balance tomorrow and call.”

“Okay, do that.”

“Oh, my messages are running out too. Do you have Facebook?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s my father’s.”

“Send a friend request to Haran000. We can message there. I have internet.”

“Oh… what, you’re just telling me as if I’m your friend. And anyway, you talked to my father, what’s with me?”

That was it. No more messages from him. Perhaps his balance truly had run out.

“Oh, did he call the next day, Miss?” Bharat asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Not the next day, listen. A little later, I got a friend request on Facebook, from him.”

“How did he find you so fast?” Bharat questioned.

“Ha, right? I asked him the same, how?” He messaged back, “You made an account with your father’s phone number, so I found it.” Then, “My message balance hasn’t run out yet; I just searched for you and messaged you in this.”

Anger flared within me. What is this guy doing at this time? I thought. I called him. “Hey, why are you getting so excited when I’m being quiet? I’ll tell my father.” He calmly replied, “Go ahead, do you think I’m scared? You already saw and deleted the messages I sent; how will your father believe that I messaged you?” He had a point. I had been diligently replying to and deleting all his messages. “Oh, enough, hang up the phone,” I said, defeated. His voice held a playful lilt. “In a cool morning, if we hear the cuckoo’s song, do we say no to listening? Talking to you is also like that.”

“It’s true, Miss, your voice is nice. What happened next, tell me.” Bharat’s compliment brought a faint blush to my cheeks as I recalled the unfolding events.

Night. By the bed. In a Punjabi dress, hair neatly braided into two plaits, phone pressed to my ear.

“Hey, what, I don’t even know who you are.”

“I’ve never seen myself either. So what?”

“Are you crazy?”

“I wish you were a doctor; I would have taken treatment from you. Just keep talking like this, and my madness will go away.”

“So you admit you’re mad.”

“As long as you keep talking like this, Cuckoo, I’ll agree to anything.”

“Oh, again Cuckoo?”

“Don’t you want me to? Okay, tell me your name.”

“I won’t.”

“Then Cuckoo it is. What’s in your voice, would the cuckoo feel inferior? I’ve fallen for the intoxication hidden in your voice. Is it a mantra, or a tantra, or the secret of a woman’s words? What is this miracle, tell me, Cuckoo?”

“Hey, first stop your crow’s cawing.”

“Do you know the connection between a crow and a cuckoo?”

“I don’t want to know anything.”

“I, however, want to know a lot. Can you tell me anything?”

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m hanging up, bye.”

“Wait, Cuckoo, one minute.”

“Oh, what?”

“Which college are you in?”

“Government Degree College.”

“First year?”

“Yes.”

“My degree is over; you’re younger. Hey, what subject did you take?”

“HEC.”

“If you have doubts, ask me.”

“I don’t need tuition from you.”

“Is it a need or a desire? Is what was thought true, or does the unthought stop? To hear what you say, to see your words. I’m longing here, wondering how you look there.”

“Stop, mister, don’t say those rhymes, it hurts my ears.”

“Cuckoo, I’ve never talked to any girl for this long. Is only your voice beautiful, or are you beautiful too?”

“Do you think I’m not beautiful?”

“You must be; you have a lot of ego, don’t you?”

“Hey, who has ego?”

“The daughter of the one with phone number 99662616.”

“Enough, stop.”

“Oh Cuckoo, tell me the truth, you’ve never talked to any boy like this before, have you?”

“Hmm…”

“You can tell me your name, right?”

“You’re calling me Cuckoo, so just assume that.”

“Are we friends?”

“Uh-uh…”

“Did your father tell you not to be friends with boys?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? We’re friends.”

“We’ll see. Go to sleep.”

I ended the call.

“Did he call the next day, Miss?” Bharat’s question brought me back to the present.

“Yes… We talked for a few days like that. Then he said he was going to do his Masters and wouldn’t be in town. We even thought about meeting. For some reason, he didn’t call me afterward. He was a good guy, he talked crazy, made me laugh, and told nonsensical poems. I liked it when he praised me in them.”

“Did you fall in love, Miss?” Bharat probed, his expression curious.

“Not that much, I just felt it would be nice to meet him once. He didn’t know my name, and I didn’t know his. Later, our phone numbers also changed. He’s just someone I remember, that’s all.”

“Hmm… But this story sounds like a Telugu YouTube series story.” Bharat ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know.” I paused, then continued, “Then my degree was over. I also wanted to do my Masters like him, but I got into a college in another state, and my parents said they wouldn’t send me. And I didn’t get in here. For some reason, my interest in studies decreased. That’s when Gautam came for a marriage proposal. He fell for me the moment he saw me.”

“Haha… Of course, he would,” Bharat chuckled, and I playfully pinched his cheek.

“Ow… Miss…” he winced in mock pain.

“So, you’ll also go to college, will you chase girls then, or will you study?” I teased.

“I’ll study.”

“Oh dear… Are you an innocent fellow?”

Bharat met my gaze, then slowly lifted his left hand, his fingers brushing against mine where my hand rested on his shoulder. “Miss, if I see a girl like you, I’ll look.”

“Enough, your drama,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. My cheeks warmed, and a small, unexpressed smile curved the corners of my mouth.

“You’re very beautiful.” He lowered his face, nearing my blouse, and inhaled deeply. “Your smell is also very nice. That’s why Gautam sir fell for you at first sight.”

“Bharat, move away, don’t look at me like that, I’m uncomfortable.” I felt a strange warmth spread through me, a longing for his touch to linger.

He immediately pulled back. “Sorry, Miss. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, excuse me.”

“Hmm…” I murmured, then removed my hand from his shoulder.

“Miss, should I come tomorrow, Sunday, or not?”

“I don’t know, Bharat. If you think you’ll play around, don’t come. But do the remaining homework, don’t forget, okay?” I clasped his hand with my right hand.

“Absolutely, Miss, I’ll study. Last night I met a person, ah!… Shiva, he’s a scientist. He buys groceries from my father frequently, and he designs weapons for our army, and robots too, apparently. I feel like I’ll also become a scientist like him.”

“That’s very good, Bharat, but to be a scientist, you need to be very good at math.”

“You’ll teach me, right, Miss?”

“Dummy, not this math, there will be more in higher college. There won’t be tuition there; you have to study diligently.”

“Yes, I’ll study. Miss, do you know that Shiva lives here, but I don’t know where.”

Is he by any chance talking about that Shiva? Oh, right, Sindhu Akka said he’s a scientist. Is he such an inspirational person?

Just then, the lights flickered on, cutting short the encroaching dusk.

“Okay, Miss, I’ll leave.” Bharat stood up.

“Bye Bharat.” I held a smile.

No wonder Bharath became such a good friend of me in this evening leisures. I feel something strange, mildy comforting in his presence though.

[nallapaiyan2]

Telugu is telugu broo
The language and the subtleness in the original telugu is top notch 

But if you are a non- telugu reader english is best
Google translations is worse

sure - 

[Haran000]

[sweetheart8]

Pls give Telugu story link.

[1234hitman]

bekaar me story ko bahut lamba kheench rahe ho...

jisse sab bekaar ho jata hai or ek bakbaas story ban jati hai...

time bekaar karna hai is story ko read karke...

Just dont read the thread ?? you are commenting this for the second time..what are you trying to do??by seeing your comment no one will stop reading it so kindly dengey inka ekkuva cheyakunda

[Projectmp]

Eagerly waiting for next update

[secpass]

Keep going atleast until first cum

[Haran000]

Keep going atleast until first cum

Thank you 

[Haran000]

The harsh morning light of Monday seemed to amplify Geeta's hurried pace towards the college gate. 

There,stood, her young lover - Bharath, a pink rose held in his hand. 

The moment she came into view, his face, as always, became a beacon of pure joy.

He stepped forward, bridging the distance between them. "Good morning," he offered, his voice laced with youthful eagerness. "Miss, this is for you." He extended the rose.

"Thanks, Bharath," Geeta replied, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Without a second thought, Geeth reached out, her hand gently ruffling his hair. "Go to class," she urged, a playful command in her tone.

As Bharath turned to head back inside, Geeta deftly tucked the rose into her braid. He glanced back, catching the sight, and a wide, happy smile bloomed on his face. Geeta returned it with a playful grin of her own.

Near the principal's room, Ramya stood, nervously twisting the end of her saree. 

Geeta's eyebrows rose in a silent question as she approached. Ramya waved her over.

"I was waiting for you," Ramya explained.

"Oh, really? Why?" Geeta asked, intrigued.

"It's already January, and we haven't finished the syllabus, so there's a meeting," Ramya disclosed, her voice hushed.

The meeting involved the three teachers who were behind on their syllabus. To add to the day's complications, the Telugu sir was absent, and the principal requested Geeta to cover two periods, including his.

Thus, when the fourth period arrived, Geeta found herself entering the classroom.

"Good morning, Teacher." A chorus of voices greeted her.

"Good morning, sit," Geeta responded, settling into the rhythm of the class.

Navyashri, perched on the front bench in the corner, stood up. "Miss, you said there would be a test today."

Bharath, meanwhile, was utterly absorbed in Geeta. An unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes—was it love, infatuation, or something else entirely? He simply watched her, captivated. 

Beside him, Harish opened his book, muttering under his breath, "Tch, these girls have nothing better to do. Is it necessary to remind to miss before she even says anything?"

Geeta addressed Navyashri. "There's no test today. We're completing Unit 6 today."

As she taught, Geeta couldn't help but notice Bharath's unwavering gaze. "Bharath, are you listening?" she prompted.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he shifted his eyes, pretending to write in his book with his pen. 

"I'm writing some corrections, Miss," he replied.

Geeta turned back to the board, a small, amused chuckle escaping her pursed lips. 

Continued the class.


                        Lunchtime arrived, and after eating, Geeta sat holding her phone for a while. It was then that a dull ache began to throb in her feet.

The pain intensified after her second period post-lunch, as she emerged from the sixth-grade classroom. 



                        By the evening, after college closed, the discomfort was undeniable. She hailed an auto, grateful to forgo the walk home.


Once home, she washed her face and feet. With nothing else pressing, she surrendered to the comfort of the sofa, resting her head on a pillow. Her eyes closed, seeking respite. 

The sudden ring of her phone startled and annoyed her. It was Gautam. She picked it up.

"Hello... Tell me," she answered, her voice a little weary.

"What's my Geeta doing?" Gautam's voice was warm.

"Oh, I'm sleeping."

"Now?"

"My legs are aching, since afternoon."

"Why, what did you do so much work?"

"I don't know, today there was an extra period. I also did yesterday evening's chores in the morning, and I cleaned the house too. I don't know what happened, but my toes are hurting."

"Oh dear... Then why did you do all of it in one day?"

"How would I know there would be extra work today?"

"Hmm... Okay, go to sleep. I'll call tonight."

"You won't call tonight?" Geeta's voice held a hint of disappointment.

"Sorry, Geeta, I can't."

"I can't wait another seven days," she sighed.

"Me too. Okay, go to sleep. Ha... Pour some hot water on your feet."

"Oh, we know that. I'm hanging up."

"Bye."

An hour after Geeta drifted off, the doorbell chimed. She woke with a start, adjusting her saree before going to open the door.

"Good evening, Miss..." It was Bharath.

"Evening, Bharath," Geeta responded, a faint, annoyed "Psh" escaping her as she turned to walk inside. Bharath noticed. Her face still carried the soft imprint of sleep. He set his bag down and then his gaze fell on the pillow on the sofa.

"What's wrong, Miss? You were in an auto then. Where did you go?" he asked.

Geeta settled onto the sofa, pulling her right leg up and bending it. "My feet have been hurting since afternoon, so I took an auto instead of walking."

"Oh no... Really?" Bharath's concern was evident.

"Hmm..."

"Miss, shall we go to the hospital then?"

"Why go to the hospital for this much? It'll subside."

"No, Miss. If it doesn't subside, you won't be able to come to college tomorrow, right?" As he spoke, he sat down in front of Geeta and, without hesitation, took her right foot in his hands. 

A shiver ran through Geeta as Bharath's cool touch met her skin. She instinctively pulled her foot away.

"Wait, tell me where it hurts. Maybe pressing your feet will help," he offered.

"Hey, get up, Bharath! You're holding my foot!" Geeta exclaimed, a flush rising to her cheeks.

Bharath looked up, his eyes wide and questioning. "What happened, Miss, why did you say that? I'm younger than you, so what's wrong? I press my father's feet when they get pain."

Geeta remained silent, her resistance momentarily disarmed.

Bharath gently took her right foot again. He began to knead the flesh beneath her big toe with his right thumb. A sigh of relief escaped Geeta. He pressed a little harder, and a sharp pain shot through her.

"Ahh...."

"Oh, sorry. Is it here?" he asked, immediately easing his pressure.

"It's okay. Hmm... yes."

He pulled her leg a little closer. Now, placing his thumb firmly in the deep center of her sole, he pressed hard towards her pinky toe and massaged upwards. 

Geeta felt the nerves in her foot stretch, and a wave of comfort washed over her.

"How is it now?" he asked, looking up at her face.

Geeta responded with a hesitant "Hmm."

He spotted a small stool nearby, picked it up, and placed it in front of her feet. "Miss, put your feet on this."

Geeta obeyed. Sitting down, he held her right foot with both hands, placing his thumbs in the middle and moving them upwards, kneading the top of her foot with his fingers. All the muscles in her foot seemed to twist and unwind at once. He then held the top of her foot with his left hand and pulled her pinky toe upwards with his right hand.

An immense sense of pleasure coursed through Geeta. 

He pressed the joint of her toe with two fingers, and her nerves tingled.

"Sss..."

He released her pinky toe and moved on to the next. As he did this to each of her toes, a feeling of relief accompanied each gentle pull.

After completing this, while Geeta watched, he moved his left hand slightly forward, gently pushing back the edge of her saree. He then softly squeezed the lower part of her leg above her ankle. Her whole body tingled in response.

"Miss, your leg is so soft," Bharath observed.

He continued to knead gently with his fingers, rubbing downwards. As Bharath stroked her, Geeta felt an exquisite tingling sensation spread throughout her body.

"Oh, how good it feels...", she whispered herself.

With Bharath's hands on her, the pain in Geeta's foot seemed to vanish. Bharath continued to massage, his voice a soft murmur.

"Miss, your feet are so soft. Do you know what I feel?"

"What?" Geeta whispered.

"I feel like kissing them."

A blush crept up Geeta's neck. A mischievous smile touched her lips. Bharath saw it.

"Hey, does anyone kiss feet?" she playfully chided.

"Oh, should I kiss them if I feel like it, Miss?" he dared.

Oh! At least he didn't ask if he should kiss them, Geeta thought, a surge of unexpected warmth spreading through her.

He deliberately scbangd her sole with his fingernail, and a burst of ticklish laughter erupted from Geeta. She pulled her foot back, playfully pretending to be angry, a mock threat on her lips.

"Hey...."

"Haha...." Bharath laughed heartily.

He moved to her left leg. As he gently pressed and pulled her toes, Geeta felt a profound comfort settle over her. She sat, watching him with affectionate eyes. When Bharath looked up, she offered a slight smile.

"Does it feel good, Miss?" he asked.

"Hmm..."

"Don't you feel any pain?"

"Ha..."

"Miss, is it because of that extra class?"

"I don't know, Bharath."

"Really, Miss. Being with you, I’m observing some of the difficulties faced by teachers who genuinely teach students."

Geeta was surprised by his thoughtful words. She hadn't expected such a meaningful observation from him.

"Then you should study," she retorted playfully. "See, you're pressing my feet even if I don't want you to."

"It's nothing, Miss. I'll study now..." he declared, and just like before, he tickled her soles again.

"Ah... haha ... No..." Geeta protested, pulling her leg back, but he continued, laughing all the while. "Ah... h... Hey, leave it, I'm warning you, I'll hit you..."

He let go. "Sorry, Miss."

Geeta narrowed her eyes, a mischievous glint in them, and gestured for him to come closer. "You've become quite playful, come here."

"No, you'll hit me."

"I won't hit you, come..."

Moving forward, she pulled Bharath's right hand. He stumbled, falling beside her, a flash of fear in his eyes.

"Please, Miss, sorry."

Geeta looked into his eyes and held his hand in hers. "Thanks, Bharath."

"For what, Miss...?"

"I don't know, Bharath. If I weren't your tuition teacher, no one would even care about me like this now."

"What are you saying, Miss?"

"Hmm..."

Bharath chuckled to himself, a private thought blooming in his mind: “Anyway, you're going to Dubai next week, there with Gautam Sir.”

oh my...Geeta's face flushed, and she covered it with her hands.

"Miss, how beautiful you look when you're shy."

"Stop it, Bharath. I'm your teacher," she admonished, though her voice lacked conviction.

"Yes, my cute Geeta Miss."

She pulled Bharath's ear lightly. "Hey, enough of your talk. Are you trying to avoid studying? Take out your books. Start."

The smile vanished from Bharath's face in an instant. He moved away and retrieved his book from his bag, the playfulness of the moment giving way to the seriousness of his studies.

After sometime,

The cool evening air brushed against Geetha as she stepped out, only to see Sri descending the stairs.

"Hi Shriram anna!" Bharat's voice, bright and eager, cut through the twilight.

"Hey, are you heading home?" Sri replied, his tone equally friendly.

"Yeah," Bharat confirmed, and Geetha, observing their exchange, quietly slipped into the kitchen. From the small window overlooking the stairs, she could still catch snippets of their conversation.

"Did you ask about the badminton club?" Sri's question drifted in, and Geetha saw the sudden shift in Bharat's demeanor. The smile that had graced his face just moments before vanished, replaced by a crestfallen expression.

"Yeah, I asked, anna," Bharat's voice was now tinged with disappointment. "They're asking for twenty thousand for membership fee."

A pause followed, heavy with unspoken concerns. Then Sri's voice again, "So, did you tell your parents at home?"

"What should I tell them, anna? It's hard, my family can't afford it," Bharat confessed, a note of resignation in his voice.

"Oh no, but you've been going there a lot until recently, are you just going to give up?" Sri's concern was palpable.

"That's it," Bharat's reply was curt, final.

"Okay, go on then. You're in tenth grade, right?" Sri shifted the topic, a hint of encouragement in his voice.

"Yes, anna," Bharat confirmed.

"Study well, starting now. Let's try next year," Sri advised, his words a gentle push forward.

"Yeah, okay," Bharat mumbled, the youthful optimism that had greeted Sri now completely subdued.

Geetha, a glass of water in hand, moved to the door and peered out. Sri and Bharat were walking outside. Sri gave Bharat a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading towards the main road, and Bharat, too, walked away, his shoulders slumped.

With darkness settling in, Geetha closed the door, the soft click echoing the quiet of the evening. She cooked rice, the familiar motions a comforting rhythm. After eating, she tried to call Gautham, but his phone rang unanswered, leaving her with the lingering thoughts of Bharat's quiet despair.
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