Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

Saturday Night – Entrance into the flat 401


The door to 401 opened with a jingle of anklets and the faint whiff of jasmine.

Neetu stood there like a poem woven in silk, the deep green gagra choli clinging to her with a tenderness that seemed almost alive.

The fabric shimmered as if in quiet celebration of her curves, the delicate embroidery tracing along her waist and neckline like a lover’s touch.

The dupatta slipped languidly from her shoulder, revealing the soft rise and fall of her breath, while the gold threads glinted like secrets meant only for moonlight.

Her bare waist, kissed by the border of the choli and the fall of the gagra, glowed against the fabric, sensual without effort, sacred without pretense.

Each step she took sent a hush of anklets and a flutter of jasmine into the air, and for a moment, it felt as though the night had paused, just to admire her.

Amit certainly did.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have, drinking her in with the quiet intensity of a man who knew better, but couldn't help himself.

He had seen Neetu in casual wear, joking with Sirisha, stirring tea with sleepy eyes, familiar, sweet, ordinary.

But tonight, wrapped in silk and shadow, she looked like something pulled from a painter’s dream.

There was desire in his eyes now, not brazen, not spoken, but unmistakable.

A hunger wrapped in silence. He looked away when she met his eyes, but too late.

Her smile widened as soon as she saw Priya.

“Hey, Priya?” she said warmly, reaching out to take Priya’s hand.


Behind her, Sirisha emerged, a fluttering whirl of youthful energy and color.

She was in a dazzling half-saree, indigo and gold the pleats tucked below her navel with casual precision.

Bangles clinked on her wrists as she leaned forward to greet them, her long earrings brushing her cheeks.

“Hi Ravi Bhayya,” she chirped to Ravi.

Her voice tinged with the innocent playfulness of a girl meeting someone she liked just a little more than she should.


But Ravi wasn’t listening to any of that.

His eyes were still on Priya.




- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

“Arey! Aao na sab,” came a deeper, cheerful voice from inside.



Vamsi, tall and fit with a casually rolled-up white linen shirt and beige trousers, stepped into view from the hallway.

A relaxed presence, his stubble made him look slightly older than he was, but his grin immediately disarmed any formality.

He looked at Priya Didi, in her copper-gold saree.

Neetu was stunning...

Sirisha was young and glowing...

But there was something about Priya that night

The stillness in her walk,

The poise in her smile,

The careful way her pleats moved like whispers across her waist, that eclipsed everything else.

Even Vamsi, who rarely got rattled, found himself staring a moment too long.

He hadn't expected her to look like this.

Elegant, yes. Beautiful, always.

But this… this was something else.

He was startled by his own reaction,

Surprised by how much he suddenly wanted to know what made her laugh when no one was watching.

He masked it with charm, as always.

“Ravi Bhai, finally I get to meet you!” he said, coming forward and clapping Ravi on the shoulder.

“Amit Bhai keeps talking about you,  we were all beginning to think you were a myth!”

Ravi smiled and offered a hand.

“Good to finally meet you too, Vamsi. Thanks for having us over.”

“Arey yaar, don’t say thanks. Sirisha's idea. She’s been buzzing all day like she’s throwing a royal banquet.”

“Anna!” Sirisha protested from the side, turning red. “That’s not true!”

Neetu rolled her eyes.

“You were practicing how to welcome people. I heard you muttering ‘Hi Bhayya… I mean, Welcome Bhayya’ while brushing your hair.”

Laughter broke out, softening the mood.

Even Priya chuckled her eyes lingering on Ravi’s amused reaction before she turned gracefully into the apartment.

The living room was charming, warm lighting, cushions in bright colors,

The smell of incense fading into something more homely like sambar and fried snacks.

The dinner table was set at one corner, but Vamsi ushered everyone into the hall first.

“Tea first,” he said. “Dinner after the gossip.”



- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

They all sat down.


Priya and Neetu at one end of the L-shaped sofa, Amit and Vamsi on the other.

Sirisha sat cross-legged on the carpet

Pretending to scroll her phone but constantly sneaking glances at Ravi.

Ravi lowered himself into a chair, positioned perfectly to see both Priya and Sirisha in profile.

But it was Priya who caught his eye again.

She was laughing now, freely, completely

Her fingers brushing her ear as she adjusted an earring that didn’t need adjusting.

And when she looked at him, just for a heartbeat, it was different.

Not like earlier that week.

There was something gentler behind those eyes now, permission.

Just enough for his heart to stir again.

Beside him, Vamsi tilted his head slightly, not obviously

Just watching Priya as she reached for her cup, the curve of her wrist, the smooth line of her neck as she turned toward Neetu.

There was no guilt in the look, only a quiet craving. Admiration, maybe. A question without words.

“So Ravi,” Vamsi said,

Passing Ravi a cup of chai. “You look like a guy who’s survived some chaos. Mumbai treating you okay?”

Ravi smiled. “Mostly. Except for the auto drivers and my boss’s obsession with 9:30 AM meetings.”

Everyone chuckled.

“Ayy, I told you!” Sirisha added brightly. “My professor also loves 8 AM classes. Like, we are not factory workers, okay?”

“Exactly,” Ravi said, turning to her. “Do they think we don’t sleep or what?”

Sirisha grinned. “Well, I don’t.”

Neetu gave her a playful slap on the arm. “You don’t sleep because you're busy watching reels.”

“Or maybe,” Vamsi added, “she’s secretly writing poetry for Ravi Bhayya.”

That made everyone laugh again, including Priya, though something about the way she looked at Sirisha this time… wasn’t entirely light.

Amit, freshly bathed and now fully part of the moment, finally leaned back and sighed. “Neetu, this ghee smell is killing me. Dinner, please!”

“Ten minutes!” she called from the kitchen. “Priya, come help me na.”

Priya got up, but not before throwing one last look at Ravi.

Just a glance. Enough to leave him craving another.



And when she disappeared into the kitchen, Ravi looked down at his cup.

It was half full. But he felt completely intoxicated.

-- oOo --

.

[shailu4ever]

Saturday Night – The Dinner That Became a Memory



The dining table was glowing with silver, rimmed plates and bowls,

The aroma of ghee, masala, and steaming rice binding the room together like a soft garland of comfort.

“Vamsi, you outdid yourself,” Amit said,

Lifting the lid off the chicken curry. “You sure Neetu cooked this and not you?”

“I added salt,” Vamsi declared, proudly. “Also gave moral support. Real men do both.”

Laughter broke out again.

Ravi had never been in a home so full of ease

Where affection passed not through grand words but through side glances, mock complaints, and unsolicited second helpings.

Sirisha sat next to Neetu on one side of the long table, opposite Ravi and Priya.

Priya, ever graceful, served food to Amit first, then to Ravi,

Her fingers brushing the edge of his plate just a little longer than necessary.

No one noticed. Except Ravi. And perhaps… Priya herself.

Sirisha grinned and nudged Ravi lightly under the table with her knee. “You eat meat, right, Bhayya?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good,” she said. “Or I was going to question your whole personality.”


Neetu chuckled.

“She’s been talking about this dinner since morning. Not for food, mind you — but because someone was coming.”


Sirisha turned pink and muttered, “Bhabi..!”


- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

Amit caught the exchange. “Wait, wait, what’s going on?”


Ravi laughed it off. “Nothing. I’m apparently the guest of honor.”

“Rightfully so!” Vamsi added.

“He’s been helping Sirisha with her project. The way she speaks of him, I thought she hired a full-time mentor.”

Sirisha rolled her eyes. “He’s just helping me, okay! I’m not that desperate.”

Neetu served rice to Ravi and smiled.

“Still, we’re really happy you came. You don’t have to come only when Amit tells you to. You’re one of us now.”

Vamsi nodded. “Exactly. We’re in the same building. This is your house too. You’re always welcome here, Bhai.”

Ravi smiled, a little overwhelmed by the generosity. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“I’m serious,” Vamsi said.

“I hate when people act too formal. Knock on the door, barge in, eat whatever’s there. We don’t need reasons.”

“And,” Neetu added, looking at Priya,

“we girls are planning a movie night next weekend. Sirisha told me Priya watches old Telugu classics. You should join, Ravi.”

Priya smiled, careful and small. “Only if he can sit through black and white love stories.”

“I’ll try,” Ravi said, matching her energy, “if you promise not to cry at the end.”

Sirisha sighed dramatically. “Love stories always end in crying. That’s their job.”

“Love stories,” Neetu said, “end in silence more than tears.”

That sentence landed differently.

A strange pause spread across the table, as if everyone thought of something unspoken.

Ravi glanced at Priya.


- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

She looked away, eyes on the pickle jar, but something inside her… shifted.


As the plates emptied and the laughter mellowed,

Vamsi leaned back and said, “This was nice. This is what weekends are for.”

Amit agreed. “Yup. We should do this more.”

Sirisha stretched her arms. “Next time, maybe rooftop dinner?”

“Yes!” Neetu said. “Candles, fairy lights, and Ravi can bring the music.”

“Me?” Ravi asked, laughing.

“Of course. You look like you have good taste in sad songs.”


Even Priya laughed at that, a short, melodic laugh she didn’t try to hide.

As they cleared the table, Ravi offered to help but Neetu shooed him away.

“Sit, sit. You’re still a guest tonight. Next time, you can wash the dishes.”

The group moved back to the living room, tea glasses in hand.

Sirisha brought out a small Bluetooth speaker and played light instrumental music,

A soft flute number that seemed to wrap around Ravi’s senses like silk.

And there, in that ordinary room with four new people he barely knew a month ago, Ravi felt something extraordinary.

He belonged.

Even Priya, distant as she’d been, no longer looked at him like he was a mistake to avoid.

Tonight, her silence wasn’t cold.

It was cautious. Curious.

Something like… trust.

And sitting across from her, Ravi realized that of all the beauty tonight

Sirisha’s youthful fire, Neetu’s polished charm, even the warmth of this household

Nothing filled his heart more than the quiet, anchored grace of his Priya Didi.

-- oOo --

.

[Hotyyhard]

wow what a night with beautiful ladies ;)

[shailu4ever]

wow what a night with beautiful ladies  ;)

Hi Hotyyhard

Glad you enjoyed it! That was just a glimpse, more to come, so stay tuned

Thank you very much for feedback.

Warm Regards

-- Shailu

[Raj087]

Beautifully written... everything seems so real. The way you described the scenes of dinner was as if everyone reading could actually see it in front of their eyes. To add more elegance and realism please describe the fullness of Priya s Belly under saree after the elegant dinner. How Ravi would be mesmarised by her fullness and how Priya elegantly displayed it. If possible add few conversation from Priya about the heavy meal which draws Ravi attention towards her fullness and dinner bloat which looks mesmarising with her beautiful saree. Its just a suggestion but i think it will add realism and elangance to your plot. Think about it...but i must say you are brilliant.....

[shailu4ever]

Beautifully written... everything seems so real. The way you described the scenes of dinner was as if everyone reading could actually see it in front of their eyes. To add more elegance and realism please describe the fullness of Priya s Belly under saree after the elegant dinner. How Ravi would be mesmarised by her fullness and how Priya elegantly displayed it. If possible add few conversation from Priya about the heavy meal which draws Ravi attention towards her fullness and dinner bloat which looks mesmarising with her beautiful saree. Its just a suggestion but i think it will add realism and elangance to your plot. Think about it...but i must say you are brilliant.....

Hi Raj087

Thank you so much for your kind words and constructive feedback! 

I really appreciate you taking the time to read in detail and share your thoughts. 

I’m thrilled to hear that you felt the scenes were vivid and immersive,  that’s exactly the atmosphere I aimed to create.

Your suggestion about adding more detail to Priya's appearance after the dinner is an interesting one. 

I can see how emphasizing her fullness, the way she carries herself, and Ravi's reaction could deepen the intimacy and realism of their interactions. I’ll definitely think about how to weave this into the narrative in a way that complements the elegance and mood I’m trying to convey.

I love the idea of incorporating a conversation that hints at the meal’s effect, adding layers to the dynamic between the characters. It could be a subtle but meaningful moment. Thank you again for your insight,  I’m excited to experiment with this and see how it enhances the story.

And I’m so grateful for your compliment about the writing! It really motivates me to keep pushing myself.

Warm regards

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

Saying Goodbye after dinner – The Slow Descent


The meal had been long and satisfying, each dish carefully prepared, and the warmth of good food now settled comfortably in everyone’s bellies.

The hum of contentment lingered in the air.

Priya, with her hands resting lightly on her waist, stood and stretched,

Her body unfurling gracefully as she did, the gentle curve of her form made even more apparent by the soft,

Satiated fullness she carried after the rich dinner.

Neetu, likewise, had a relaxed air about her, the silk of her gagra flowing smoothly around her hips,

Her posture no longer taut from the tension of the evening but soft with contentment.

Her lips were still stained with the sweetness of dessert, and she lingered just a moment longer than needed at the table,

Clearly enjoying the calm before the night would end.

Neetu's eyes met Ravi’s as she stood, a soft smile curving her lips as she gracefully wiped her mouth with a napkin, unhurried and serene.

It was as if the fullness of the meal only deepened the satisfaction in her presence, she wasn’t rushing anything, not even this final moment.

Ravi couldn’t help but notice how the curves of her body seemed softer now, the way she moved, slower, more fluid, as though she were allowing herself to bask in the comfort of the evening.

“Okay, now everyone has to stop eating,” Neetu announced with a half-laugh, placing the lid over the last remaining sweet. “We’ll all fall asleep here.”

Sirisha giggled. “I already feel like I need to be carried to bed.”

Neetu let out a mock sigh and pressed a palm to her softly rounded stomach.

“God, I can barely breathe in this gagra. That last sweet was betrayal.”


Priya smiled from her corner of the sofa, gently rubbing her fingers near her collarbone, her voice low.

 “Everything was too good. I didn’t want to stop… even when I should have.”


Ravi, catching that, looked up.

There was something in the way she said it, soft, indulgent, almost intimate. 

She didn’t look at him, but her words had landed exactly where they were meant to.

Everyone chuckled as they got up, stretched, and began the little dance of gathering phones and keys. 

Sirisha came to the door first, opening it and looking back like she didn’t want them to leave.

“I’ll walk them to the lift,” she said quickly, brushing past her brother who had already gone to fetch some water.

At the threshold, Ravi turned back for a moment. 

Vamsi gave him a warm thumbs-up, and Neetu smiled with that familiar sisterly grace that had already made him feel part of something.

Her braid had come slightly undone, a few strands grazing her cheek.

She looked flushed, content, and glowing, her beauty not dimmed by the heaviness of the meal, but made more languid and real.

The three stepped into the corridor, Ravi, Priya, and Amit.

A soft silence accompanied them as they waited at the elevator.




- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

Ravi stood a little behind the couple


His mind still ringing with moments from the evening. 

Sirisha’s brightness.

Neetu’s laughter, her teasing eyes. 

But above all else, the sight of Priya in that saree, how it had ruined him the moment he saw her.


And now, after dinner, there was something different, her posture looser, her gaze softened, her body moving slower as if the richness of the meal had melted her defenses.


The elevator dinged.

They stepped in, all three.

It was a narrow cabin. 

Amit stood to the left, Priya in the center, and Ravi, he stood just behind her, pressed back as much as the small space allowed.

But the silk of her saree, the shimmer of her perfume, the sight of her graceful fingers resting near the elevator panel

It was all too close.


“Too much food,” Amit mumbled, rubbing his belly and grinning as he texted someone. “Next time, I skip lunch.”

Priya shifted her weight gently and gave a soft chuckle. “I feel like I’m wrapped in silk and sweets right now.”

Ravi swallowed. The image of her like that, wrapped, warm, glowing, was now seared into him.

She hadn’t spoken much after dessert, but something in her silence had changed.

Her body wasn’t tense around him anymore. Not like before.

She didn’t avoid standing near him. She didn’t shrink away when his breath warmed her shoulder.

And now, in the mirror pane of the elevator wall, Ravi saw himself, tall, eyes wide, and lost, behind her glowing figure.

The elevator hummed downward, floor after floor, and in those few seconds, Ravi saw everything again.

Her delicate shoulder just inches away. 

The pleats of the saree tucked below her navel.

The blouse hugging her back like it had been painted on.

The slow, sensuous weight of satisfaction that lingered in the tilt of her head, the way her arms rested easily by her sides,

The way her hips barely moved, almost inviting gravity to hold her.

She stood calm. Regal. Untouchable.


Until, with a quiet breath, she slightly adjusted the fall of her pallu, a motion meant to fix it, but in doing so, she brought her arm slightly back, and her elbow grazed his hand.

Just a whisper of touch.

She didn’t move.

She knew.

The elevator doors opened with a gentle ding.

She stepped out first. Then Amit. Then Ravi.

None of them spoke until they reached 205. 

Amit unlocked the door and turned to them with a casual yawn. “I’ll crash in ten minutes.”

Ravi smiled. “Me too.” His voice came a little slower than usual.

Priya said nothing.

But before walking in, she looked back once, just a glance at Ravi, her eyes unreadable.

There was fullness in that glance. Like a secret held behind closed lips. Like the final sweetness of a meal savored too long.

And then, they were inside.

-- oOo --

.

[shailu4ever]

Beautifully written... everything seems so real. The way you described the scenes of dinner was as if everyone reading could actually see it in front of their eyes. To add more elegance and realism please describe the fullness of Priya s Belly under saree after the elegant dinner. How Ravi would be mesmarised by her fullness and how Priya elegantly displayed it. If possible add few conversation from Priya about the heavy meal which draws Ravi attention towards her fullness and dinner bloat which looks mesmarising with her beautiful saree. Its just a suggestion but i think it will add realism and elangance to your plot. Think about it...but i must say you are brilliant.....

Hi Raj087

I’ve written the two updates above in response to your request. 

Please let me know if they align with what you had in mind.

 This is my first time writing about a woman after a full meal, and I’ve never really considered whether it might be seen as erotic or not, so it’s completely new territory for me. 

I tried my best with this, but I’m not sure if I’ve done it justice.

Thank you so much for your suggestion, it really pushed me to explore a different perspective. 

Once you’ve had a chance to read through the updates, I’d really appreciate it if you could share your thoughts, comments, and any feedback you might have. 

I truly hope they resonate with what you were looking for!


Warm regards

-- Shailu

.

[shailu4ever]

Whispers on Screen


It was nearing 11:45 PM.

The house at 205 had settled into silence. 

Amit had gone to bed right after showering, closing his room door with the familiar, casual thud. 

Priya had washed her face, dbangd a thin shawl over her blouse, 

And quietly walked past Ravi’s room once, to switch off the dining light, then disappeared into her own bedroom. 

No words. Not even a glance.

Ravi sat on his bed, a soft light pooling around him from the corner lamp. His phone buzzed once.


Sirisha
“Bhayya… are you awake?”


Ravi smiled and typed back.

Ravi
“Yup. Just about to sleep. Too full to move ?”


Sirisha
“Haha. Good. My plan worked.”
“I wanted you all to eat so much that you dream of me tonight ?”


He laughed silently and stretched his legs. 

She really was something, her energy, her teasing way of speaking. 

But behind it, something softer. Curious. Warm.

Ravi
“Well, if I do… you owe me another Rasmalai.”


Sirisha
“Deal! Only if you come again next week. You must.”

.

[shailu4ever]

A moment passed before her next message came.


Sirisha
“It was nice having you here. Honestly.”
“You… made me feel a little less alone.”


That line paused him. Something about it. Maybe the quiet way it was said, without emojis or laughter.
He typed:

Ravi
“You’re not alone, Sirisha.”
“You’ve got Neetu, Vamsi, and a whole bunch of fans in 205.”


A typing bubble blinked.

Sirisha
“Only one fan matters.”


Ravi stared at the screen, heart knocking once.

Before he could think of a reply, another message came in.

Sirisha
“Ok that was bold. I’ll go to sleep before I say anything more embarrassing ?”


Ravi
“Hey, it wasn’t embarrassing.”
“It made me smile.”
“Goodnight, Sirisha.”


Sirisha
“Goodnight, Ravi bhayya…”


She added a shy emoji this time. 

The screen dimmed after a few seconds. But Ravi didn’t put the phone down.

His thoughts slowly drifted, to her smile, to her carefree tone, 

To the way she had looked tonight in that glowing half-saree, 

Eyes always glancing toward him when she thought he wouldn’t notice.

And then… they drifted again.


To that elevator.

To the scent that lingered in the air.

To the woman in the saree who didn’t say a word… and yet had said everything.

-- oOo --

.

[shailu4ever]

Saturday Night – Disappearing Messages, Undeniable Memories


The message came in at 12:13 AM.

Neethu:
Hey Ravi, Just wanted to say thanks again for coming to dinner. 
Sirisha was super happy. 
Vamsi too. I hope you weren’t bored


Ravi saw the Disappearing in 24 hours messages.

A smile played on his lips as he typed back.

Ravi:
Bored? With such royal treatment, and such… gorgeous hosts? I’m flattered.

She read it instantly.

Neethu:
Royal? ? Who exactly made it royal? 
Me or Sirisha?


Ravi paused.

He stared at the screen.

The question was too playful to ignore.

And too loaded to answer directly.

Ravi:
Let’s just say… both tried, 
but one succeeded beyond imagination.


There was a pause. A long one. Three dots blinked. Then vanished. Then blinked again.

Neethu:
Acha?  So what exactly did you observe?

He laughed out loud.

He replied:

Ravi:
You sure you want to know?

Neethu:
Now you have to tell me.


Ravi closed his eyes.


- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

Ravi closed his eyes.


Ravi had a way of seeing things that others often missed. 

It wasn’t anything dramatic, just a quiet habit of noticing the intimate details

Like the delicate arch of a woman’s back as she leaned slightly forward, 

Or the soft sway of her hips as she moved through a room, as if each step was a quiet rhythm of its own. 

He didn’t think much of it, but sometimes, those fleeting moments lingered in his mind,

Like the lingering warmth of a touch that was never fully realized. 

It wasn’t something he tried to do; it just happened, naturally, without him even noticing.


That dinner was vivid in his mind. 

Not just the events of the evening, but every detail, every moment that seemed to pulse with a quiet, simmering heat.

Neetu in her navy-blue ghagra stayed with him, as though she were a vision caught in time. 

The fabric, light and airy as a cloud, clung to her body with each movement, swaying seductively as if it were alive, caressing her skin in a way that seemed intentional, drawing his gaze to every curve. 

The golden embroidery on her blouse shimmered like whispers in the candlelight, each thread glinting as if it had a secret to tell, a promise held in its delicate stitches. 

The blouse clung to her every curve, a soft tension holding her in all the right places, while the low back, framed by the thin tassels, seemed to invite him to linger there, to imagine what was just beneath.


But it was her navel. That deep, perfect dip, still and hypnotic, locked in his mind.

It was as though his eyes were drawn to it, unable to look away. 

The lehenga sat low on her hips, the curve of her belly rising just above the waistband like an invitation, sculpted, yet so alive, so warm. 

The dip of her navel, cast in soft candlelight, held him captive, more compelling than any words spoken that night. 

It wasn’t just a part of her body; it felt like a secret, a temptation, an invitation to something unspoken, something only the two of them could share.

And the way her dupatta, meant to cover her modesty, seemed to have a will of its own. 

It slipped slowly from her shoulder, as if it couldn’t resist the temptation of revealing just a little more of her skin. 

The fabric shifted, teasingly, like it were reluctant to stay in place, sliding down her arm with a quiet, sensual grace. 

Each time it fell just a little further, the bare skin beneath seemed to beckon, 

Inviting the air to brush against it, as though the dupatta, in its own way, was as curious as he was about the warmth hidden just beneath. 

It wasn’t just the movement of the fabric, it was the way it made him ache, the way it seemed to pull her into the space between them, a soft, silent invitation.


He remembered it not as a fleeting image, but as a slow, drawn-out sequence: 

The way she leaned to pass the dal, her body bending slightly, the soft flex of her belly moving beneath the fabric. 

The way her ghagra slipped a little lower as she laughed, her laughter free, unaware of the way the movement made his breath catch. 

And the way her dupatta, meant to conceal, kept slipping from her shoulder, as if it too, was too curious to stay in place, teasing him with glimpses of her skin.



- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

He typed slowly.

“The way your lehenga sat on you… it was dangerous. 

That low waist. The deep navel.

The way the blouse curved and the dupatta didn’t care… 

You were easily the most breathtaking woman in the room.”


This time, there was no instant reply.

Just a full minute of silence.

Then:

Neetu:
??
I can’t believe you noticed all that


He replied:

Ravi:
I didn’t notice Babhi. I remember. Perfectly.

A pause. Then:

So… you wanted to remember?
Every second.


Another minute passed. Ravi’s heart beat louder. 
His eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

Then she replied:

Neetu:
I’m not sure if I should block you or smile.

Ravi:
Don’t block me Babhi. Just dress like that again sometime.

A final reply from her, this time slower.

Neetu:
Let’s see if you behave next time…


The message will disappear in 24 hours. 

But in Ravi’s mind, nothing was lost.

-- oOo --

.

[shailu4ever]

Priya Didi in the Morning Light


The Sunday sun bled softly through the sheer curtains, casting a warm, lazy light across the living room of flat 205.

The clink of spoons in steel cups, the faint hum of a devotional song from the neighbors, and the aroma of fresh dosas filled the air like comfort.

Ravi stepped into the dining space, freshly showered, dressed in a navy-blue T-shirt and track pants.

His hair still slightly damp, he looked relaxed, even content, until his eyes fell on her.


Priya Didi.

Standing near the stove, flipping a dosa with practiced ease.

She stood in the kitchen, unaware, or perhaps uncaring, of the way sunlight had chosen her as its canvas.

Her pale green cotton saree clung gently to her slender waist, pleats flowing like calm waters over her hips.

The pallu was drawn across her chest in a way that was neither careless nor calculated,

Resting slightly toward the center, just enough to reveal the graceful slope of her blouse's edge along the side.

That blouse. Soft cream with delicate embroidery, hugging her like a second skin.

And the way it stretched gently with every breath she took… 

Ravi couldn’t stop looking.

The subtle fullness of her breasts pressed against the fabric, 

Not in vulgarity, but in quiet power, evident in how the blouse curved, how it held its form under the weight of her breasts.

Her navel wasn’t visible in that moment, but her belly rose and fell softly as she moved, hands flipping a dosa, bending slightly to reach a jar on the lower shelf.

The side curve of her torso peeked from beneath the pallu, her fair skin glistening where the sun touched her.

Her hair was in a loose braid today, not tightly bound.

A few strands had escaped, falling over her temple as she moved.

She wiped them away with the back of her hand, unthinking.

That, somehow, made it all the more divine.



- o -

.

[shailu4ever]

Ravi didn’t blink.


There is a kind of beauty, he realized, that doesn’t need stage lighting or makeup.

A woman standing in her kitchen, cooking for her family, immersed in the rhythm of daily life… there is grace in that.

There is an untouched, unspoiled sensuality in how her blouse clings at the sides as she stretches,

How the fabric slips a little with every reach of her arm, exposing the curve of her shoulder, the delicate arch of her back.



And perhaps that is what makes such women most beautiful, not when they dress to be admired, 

But when they do not even realize they’re being watched.



When the bangles on their wrist chime softly as they stir the sambar, 

when the sway of their waist echoes a music older than memory,

And when the pallu of a saree, pulled in haste, exposes more poetry than purpose.

Ravi sat at the dining table, utterly silent.

Priya hadn’t yet looked at Ravi.

But Ravi looked.

He watched her move between stove and counter,

watched the way the morning light kissed the stretch of her blouse, the soft dip of her side, the half-shadow cast where the pallu barely covered her.

It wasn’t lust. Or maybe it was... but dressed in reverence.

In that moment, he thought:

She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And she doesn’t even know it.


He froze for half a second, just watching.

Amit walked in, yawning. “Morning, bhai… slept well?”

“Too well,” Ravi grinned, pulling a chair.

They settled at the table.

Priya served them both, moving like a gentle breeze, careful not to brush against Ravi, but still… he felt every time she came near.

“So, any plans today?” Amit asked.

“Nothing yet,” Ravi replied. “Might go for a walk later.”

Priya raised an eyebrow lightly, glancing his way. “And work? Don’t tell me you’re one of those workaholics even on weekends.”

“No,” he smiled. “No work on the weekends.”

“Good,” she nodded. “Otherwise I’d start feeling lazy.”

He looked at her, eyes narrowing just a touch. “You? Lazy? That would be a crime.”

She smiled faintly but didn’t respond. That smile stayed with him for minutes after.

They ate together, like a normal family.

But under that casual calm, Ravi’s every nerve was tracing her presence.

Her bangles, her anklet, the way her lips touched the rim of the glass

It was a breakfast, but to him, it felt like a poem he didn’t know he’d memorized.

-- oOo --

.