[mak@289]

He raised his eyebrows, caught.


“Honestly?” he said.

“Obviously.”

“I expected… someone very serious. Quiet.
 Maybe in salwars all the time. With glasses.
 Reads spiritual books. Watches news channels in the evening.”


She burst out laughing, covering her mouth. “Oh god.”

“But instead,” he continued with a teasing grin,
“I got this stunning, jeans-wearing,
filter-coffee-brewing
mystery girl who could easily pass off as a movie heroine.”


She narrowed her eyes

Still smiling. “Careful, Ravi. You’ll lose your ‘well-behaved’ badge very soon.”

“I’m counting on Didi’s mercy.”

She tilted her head again.

“Tell me something. Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Didi?”

“Yes.”

Ravi paused

Then smiled—less playful now.

“Because I have to.”

There was something honest in his voice


And she caught it.




- o -


.

Waow iam loving this.

[shailu4ever]

Waow iam loving this.

Hi Mak@289

Thank you so much!

I’m really happy to hear that you’re loving the story, your words truly mean a lot.

Can’t wait to see how you feel about the following chapters.

Thank you for your support

With warm regards

-- Shailu

[Peterparker69]

Good update, missed this gem.....

[shailu4ever]

Good update, missed this gem.....

Hi Peterparker

Thank you so much for your complements.  This really motivates me to continue to write further.

Appreciate your support

With warm regards

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

 
Ravi took another deep breath, his chest tightening. He had to say it, there was no going back now. “There was an accident. On Sunday Night. They were on the road returning from a movie, and a truck hit them. It was… it was bad, Amit. They didn’t survive. It was a hit and run.”
 
The words fell into the room like a stone dropped into still water. The silence stretched out between them, thick and heavy, as Amit and Priya processed what he had said. Ravi’s mind seemed to freeze, the weight of what had happened to his friends sinking deeper with every second.
 
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Amit blinked, trying to digest the shock, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “What? How, how could this have happened?” His voice was low, almost distant.
 
Ravi simply shook his head. He wished there were a way to make it less painful, to say something that would soften the blow, but there was nothing. The words had to be enough, even if they felt incomplete.
 
“I don’t know, Amit. I was at the renovation site when that happened. I only came to know yesterday morning. I went to their house to see why they weren’t answering my phone calls. When I went there, I found out this.
 
They were... gone by the time they arrived. Ambulance came, brought their bodies, but their relatives moved them to their native. The funeral and rituals will be performed there…” Ravi’s voice trailed off, the pain too much to articulate.
 
Amit let out a long, heavy breath, looking at Priya with confusion and disbelief. Priya, who had remained quiet, finally spoke, her voice small. “This doesn’t make sense. Just a couple of weeks ago, they were here, laughing… I saw Sirisha here talking and laughing in this room, and now…” Her voice faltered, unable to continue.
 
Ravi could feel the sorrow in her words, the shock settling over her like a fragile veil. Priya’s eyes, usually so full of life, were now darkened with a quiet storm. She turned her head slowly, looking away from him as if the reality of the loss was too much to face.
 
He didn’t have any answers, only the aching reality that things could change in the blink of an eye.
 
“I’m sorry. I wish there was something more I could say. They invited me to attend the movie along with them. But that evening I was busy at the renovation after talking to you… and now, they’re gone.” Ravi’s voice trembled slightly, despite himself.

.

[prasannas2001]

The Edge of Surrender


Ravi could feel the heat of Sirisha’s body intensifying with every kiss, every touch, each movement drawing them closer in an unspoken rhythm.

The air between them hung heavy with desire, thick and palpable, yet the tension lingered,

An invisible force pulling them together, yet neither fully surrendering.

Sirisha’s breath came in shallow gasps, quick and uneven, her body arching ever so slightly as his lips trailed along the sensitive curve of her legs and thighs.

The tightness in her muscles, the way she quivered beneath him, spoke volumes, her excitement undeniable, but there was something more.

Something softer.

A hesitation, a fragile uncertainty that wrapped itself around her desire.

Her body trembled, betraying her shyness, her vulnerability.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Ravi whispered, his voice a low, urgent murmur against her skin. “Every part of you… it’s all so perfect.”

. . .

“I want to explore every part of you...”

“Po... Bhayya... you are so shameless...” She covered her face with her both hands.

.

Hi Shailu, I am also at The Edge of Surrender.  You are the best

[readersp]

prasannas2001 and others who are commenting on the story small request.. kindly reply/comment.. please do not quote the entire episode or major parts of what shailu ji is writing.. it is only increasing the number of pages.. let us have her content plus all your comments.. just your comments without repeating the entire content again. This would make reading the story much easier and enjoyable , otherwise need to go back number of pages just to read the previous episode.. I hope you and all other readers agree and comply with this request.. Thanks in advance

[shailu4ever]

.

 
Amit looked down at the floor, his face blank, but there was a tremor in his hands. “This really unfortunate. So sudden and very sad. I... I can’t... Why didn’t we know sooner?” He shook his head, his eyes clouded with confusion.
 
Ravi could feel the same disbelief in his own heart, but there was no way to reverse the reality.
 
“It happened quickly. When I knew, you were traveling, so I didn’t think it was the right thing to tell you then. Vamsi’s relatives have already taken care of the arrangements. They... took the bodies back to their native place,” Ravi added quietly, trying to ground them in the practical, even though the emotional weight was overwhelming.
 
Priya stood up slowly, her gaze distant. She didn’t speak for a long moment, just staring out the window as if trying to grasp some semblance of control. Amit watched her, unsure of what to do, before slowly turning back to Ravi.
 
His face was ashen, a far cry from the man who had left for his father’s funeral just days ago. “I don’t even know what to say, Ravi. This is... it’s too much.”
 
Priya’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly, as though a weight had been placed upon her too, a weight she hadn’t expected.
 
She turned, her hands resting gently at her sides, the smooth curve of her wrist seeming delicate, as though the air itself might bruise her. Her eyes remained fixed, but there was a tremor in her chin, something that betrayed the fragility hidden beneath her usual calm.
 
The silence between them was thick, but she remained composed, as if carefully holding herself together.
 
There was nothing more to say. The room felt still, as if the air had thickened, the weight of grief hanging heavy between them. Ravi sat there, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, feeling the void between them.
 
He had told them, but it had done little to ease the burden of the loss. Nothing would.
 
Finally, Priya spoke, her voice low and steady, though it seemed to carry the weight of everything she wasn’t saying. “I can’t even begin to process this...”
 
Her voice trembled ever so slightly on the final word, as if trying not to disturb the fragile quiet that had settled around them.
 
Ravi nodded. He understood. There was no way to make sense of it. There never would be.
 
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full. Heavy with all the words that didn’t need to be said. Ravi stood up, unsure of what to do next. “I’m sorry,” he said softly again, as if the words could undo everything.
 
Amit rubbed his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts, but nothing seemed to form. He let out a sigh. “Thanks for telling us, Ravi.”
 
He felt adrift in a sea of emotions, unable to find solid ground.
 
As the three of them sat in the dimming light of the room, none of them spoke for a while. The grief was too raw, the shock too fresh. The silence settled, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was just a space to be with the weight of what had been lost.
 

-- oOo --

.

[prasannas2001]

Sirisha always the party pooper!!! I was dreading Srisha shouting Neetu bhabhi and she did..

Hahaha, yes. Same feeling. Hahaha

[tting4tting4]

Your writing, narration of events and feelings topped with twists never cease to amaze! As amazing the rasmalai party was the twist has me checking for updates every few hours! thank you for the amazing story and hope to see more with priya soon!

[mak@289]

.

Still Learning to Write
 
I know me.
I know I’m not the best writer.
I know I’m not even a better one.
Not a good one either —
and if I’m being honest,
I know I’m not a writer at all.
Just someone trying to become one.
 
I want to write,
even though I don’t know how yet.
I don’t claim to be good —
not polished, not practiced, not ready —
just someone learning to shape her thoughts into words.
 
I’ve never called myself a writer.
I’m only beginning to learn,
taking small steps, one sentence at a time.
 
I have time —
More than most.

I am a stay-at-home wife
Lonely and bored
with space in the day
and stories in my head.
 
So I chose writing.
I thought erotica would be easy,
but I was wrong.
Even desire takes discipline to write.
Even passion needs patience.
 
It’s only been a few weeks,
not even a month and a half.
And I know — truly —
That no real skill can bloom overnight.


I’m a slow learner,
one of the backbenchers
who needs to hear things twice,
read things three times,
and still wonders if she got it right.
 
I don’t know all the rules.
I’m still figuring out punctuation —
where to pause,
where to stop,
how to shape a sentence
so it breathes the way it should.
But I’m trying.
 
I’m not one of those hidden geniuses in disguise.
I’m just someone willing to try.
 
My writing feels childish,
like a little drawing made with crayons —
a car with square wheels,
a train with a crooked smile.
But it’s mine.
And I made it with heart.
 
I’m grateful for those who encourage me,
who tell me I can grow,
who give me a reason to believe.
 
So I write —
as often as I can,
as fully as I can.
It may take me longer,
but I’m not giving up.
 
This is my voice,
still unshaped,
still unsure.
But maybe in time,
it will find its rhythm.
 
Some have noticed
that the heroes in my stories
are strong —
handsome, confident,
full of charm and perfect timing.
 
Yes, I chose them that way.
 
Not because I believe all men are like that,
but because, right now,
it feels safer to write about them.
 
When you're still learning,
when your voice is unsure,
it's easier to build a world
where the characters are steady,
certain, larger than life.
 
I didn’t want to risk too much
by writing messy, complicated people —
not yet.
So I began with the kind of heroes
who feel safe to write,
who give me space to focus
on the rhythm of storytelling
before diving into the chaos of realism.
 
Is that wrong?
It might be.
But still,
this felt easier to start with —
a way to begin without fear,
to stay steady while I find my voice.
 
Maybe one day,
my heroes will grow messier,
more real, more flawed.
But for now,
this is how I begin.
 
I know there will be critics —
some fair,
some harsh,
some who may cut deep
without meaning to.
And others,
maybe,
just trying to be hard.
 
Either way,
I will have to face them.
Their words may sting,
but I’m not surprised.
This is life.
This is writing.
 
And I am well aware of it.
 
Still,
I will continue writing.
 
I ask only this:
stay with me while I learn.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be great,
or even good enough,
but I promise —
I’m giving everything I have.
 
Please don’t compare my words
to good stories or flawless prose.
I’m not there.
I may never be.
And honestly —
I’m okay with that.
Not every voice needs to echo from the top shelf.
Some stories are meant to be quiet,
growing in small corners,
read by kind eyes who understand.
 
This is real.
This is honest.
And this is me —
Still Learning to Write




-- Shailu

.

Ohh Shailu, you are doing good, iam happy for you and how you write. Its fine to make mistakes, and in return you learn. Enjoy your process, and iam a big fan of urs now ❤️.

[Strangerstf]

First of all...Salute to the writer for her efforts and her time.
I was waiting for the reentry of Priya.So didn't read many parts involving the other two female characters. Glad they are gone now.
Now,I am gonna be the regular reader of the story.

And writer garu,mee efforts ki salaam. And I am pretty sure meeru madya lo aaparu ani.

I really liked the last two episodes.Ravi and Priya madya lo intimacy natural ga proper reasoning tho grow aithe baguntadhi anukuntunna. 

Hoping to read many more stories of yours. 
And you are already one of the best writers here. 

Waiting for the next episode.

[shailu4ever]

Hahaha, yes. Same feeling. Hahaha

Thank you Prasanna

[shailu4ever]

Your writing, narration of events and feelings topped with twists never cease to amaze! As amazing the rasmalai party was the twist has me checking for updates every few hours! thank you for the amazing story and hope to see more with priya soon!

Hi tting4tting4

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m really glad you enjoyed the Rasmalai party and that the latest twist kept you hooked,  that means a lot to me!

Your excitement and encouragement truly motivate me to keep writing. And yes, there’s definitely more of Priya’s story coming soon, please stay tuned!


With warm regards

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

Ohh Shailu, you are doing good, iam happy for you and how you write. Its fine to make mistakes, and in return you learn. Enjoy your process, and iam a big fan of urs now ❤️.

Hi mak@289

Thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words!

I truly appreciate your support and understanding, you’re absolutely right, every mistake is part of the learning process. I’m so happy to know you’re enjoying my writing, and it means a lot to have you as a fan!

Thank you very much for the continued support.

With warm regards

-- Shailu

[shailu4ever]

First of all...Salute to the writer for her efforts and her time.
I was waiting for the reentry of Priya.So didn't read many parts involving the other two female characters. Glad they are gone now.
Now,I am gonna be the regular reader of the story.

And writer garu,mee efforts ki salaam. And I am pretty sure meeru madya lo aaparu ani.

I really liked the last two episodes.Ravi and Priya madya lo intimacy natural ga proper reasoning tho grow aithe baguntadhi anukuntunna. 

Hoping to read many more stories of yours. 
And you are already one of the best writers here. 

Waiting for the next episode.

Hi Strangerstf

Thank you so much for your wonderful words and all the love!  I’m really happy to know you enjoyed Priya’s reentry and the recent episodes, your detailed feedback truly made my day!  It means a lot to see readers connecting with the story and the characters, especially Ravi and Priya Didi.

To be honest, I had paused the story for a while due to a lack of proper engagement, and I wasn’t sure if I should continue. But a few amazing readers like venkygeethu, readersp and prasannas2001 encouraged me to push forward until Priya Didi’s return, saying the story would pick up again, and they were right! Seeing the renewed excitement and response now has been incredibly motivating. 

I’ll definitely be continuing this story with even more energy and heart. Thank you once again for the encouragement and support,  it truly keeps me going! 

Thank you for your support

With warm regards

-- Shailu

[prasannas2001]

prasannas2001 and others who are commenting on the story small request.. kindly reply/comment.. please do not quote the entire episode or major parts of what shailu ji is writing.. it is only increasing the number of pages.. let us have her content plus all your comments.. just your comments without repeating the entire content again. This would make reading the story much easier and enjoyable , otherwise need to go back number of pages just to read the previous episode.. I hope you and all other readers agree and comply with this request.. Thanks in advance

readersp, I’m still on page 46, the story has progressed quite a bit since then! I’ve noticed that when I comment without quoting specific lines, my feedback can sometimes feel out of context or disconnected from the parts I’m referring to. To avoid that, I’ve been quoting just a small portion of the relevant text these days, but not too much, just enough to make it clear which specific update or section I’m commenting on. That way, the feedback stays relevant, and the conversation flows smoothly without causing confusion about which part of the story I’m discussing.

Just to share my observation: the page numbers seem to be based on the total number of posts in the thread, not the length of each post. It looks like one page is added for every 20 posts, regardless of whether they’re just a single line or a thousand lines long. For example, with Priya Didi Story, it has about 1,235 posts so far in this thread, if we divide 1,235/20 it comes to about 61.75 pages, rounded up, that’s page 62, which is where we are now. So even if someone posts a one-liner or a very long comment, it won’t affect the page count.

That said, I completely understand and respect your suggestion. I’ll continue quoting only what’s necessary to keep the context clear.

And by the way: I really appreciate your insights on the story. You always seem to hit the nail on the head with your comments, and that was very interesting. It’s like you’re voicing exactly what I was thinking at that moment. I always look forward to your feedback because it feels so in tune with the story. Sometimes it felt like you stole the words from my mouth. Hahaha

[shailu4ever]

Scene: Wednesday Morning, Flat 205
 
Ravi woke up to the soft hum of the ceiling fan, sunlight streaming through the half-drawn curtains. The flat felt unusually quiet, heavy with the weight of yesterday’s silence.
 
He lay in bed for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, replaying fragments of the past week in his mind, the loss of friends, the tense days with Priya Didi, the awkward distance that now existed between them.
 
Every sound, every pause seemed amplified in the quiet of the apartment.
 
It had been only a day since Amit and Priya had returned. Yesterday had passed in an emotional blur, shock, disbelief, sorrow. He hadn’t slept properly. His mind replayed images of the ambulance, of the relatives carrying the three covered bodies, of Sirisha’s laughter echoing faintly in his ears.
 
The apartment felt hollow now.
 
By the time he rose, Priya Didi had already begun moving in the kitchen. The scent of freshly washed vegetables and a faint trace of ghee filled the air.
 
She was in a simple saree, soft beige with a subtle golden border, she wore it with effortless elegance, the kind that didn’t need adornment to command attention. Even in her domestic simplicity, there was an undeniable poise to her.
 
Ravi’s eyes took her in, quietly, with a mix of admiration and guilt. The saree clung gently to her form, the pleats falling perfectly, her slender waist just hinted at beneath the fabric, the pallor of the morning sun catching her hair, bringing out rich, dark highlights.
 
And yet, despite this quiet beauty, there was tension in her posture, a restrained rigidity that betrayed her emotions. Her brows were faintly furrowed as she arranged the vegetables on the counter.
 
Her lips, usually soft and inviting in their natural curve, were pressed together in a line, closed off, a small but visible barrier between them. Her cheeks carried the slightest tint of pink, almost imperceptible, as though her frustration with him had warmed her face. Even in her anger, there was a softness; a trace of care that told him she wasn’t entirely devoid of compassion.
 
Her presence in that morning light seemed almost sacred, a quiet strength wrapped in silk and sunlight, every breath a reflection of control and unspoken emotion.

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 
Ravi hesitated near the kitchen doorway, unsure whether to move closer, unsure how to breach the space between them without overstepping.
“Good morning,” he ventured, voice low, careful.
 
Priya Didi didn’t look at him immediately, her hands busy with the ladle, stirring the upma with rhythmic precision. “Morning,” she said at last, her voice steady, neutral. There was no warmth yet, but neither was there bitterness. Just… distance.
 
Ravi moved slowly, letting his gaze linger on the simple grace of her movements, the way her saree shimmered subtly as she shifted, the delicate bangles that chimed faintly with each motion, the quiet way she maintained her poise even in displeasure, it all struck him.
 
People often said women were most beautiful when angry. He never truly understood it until now. It wasn’t the anger itself, but the clarity and strength it revealed, combined with vulnerability. Priya Didi was that rare combination.
 
He cleared his throat. “I… I wanted to say… yesterday, I’m sorry. For everything. For upsetting you, for crossing lines… for everything that I’ve done that hurt you.” His voice was quieter now, more sincere than he had dared before. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just… I needed you to know I regret it. Every day.”
 
She paused mid-stir, her eyes catching his for a fleeting second. That brief glance held a sharp clarity, a judgment he could feel like a weight pressing against him, then she looked away, back to the cooking, exhaling softly. She was not ready to forgive, and he knew it. The moment was not about absolution. It was about acknowledgment, his, and hers.
 
Ravi stepped a little closer, careful to give her space. “I know you can’t… and I don’t expect it. But… I just want you to know, I… I understand the hurt I’ve caused. And I’m sorry.”
 
Her movements resumed, slow and deliberate, but he noticed subtle signs of emotion, a slight tremor of her hand as she set the ladle down, the soft crease at the corner of her brow. She was angry, yes, but also human, capable of empathy, even when she did not wish to show it openly.
 
“You… you don’t need to say more,” she said finally, still not looking at him directly. “Just… keep out of my way this morning.” Her tone was measured, firm, but it wasn’t cruel. It was a boundary, a reminder that while she acknowledged his remorse, she was not yet willing to let him back in.
 
Ravi nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I… I understand. I’ll just… sit.”

.

[shailu4ever]

.

 
Ravi moved to a chair at the corner of the dining table, giving her room, and watched silently as she continued preparing breakfast. There was a rhythm to her work, a quiet focus that made every movement purposeful. Even the slight frown as she chopped the vegetables added to her presence, it was beauty tempered with tension, grace in the face of displeasure.
 
As she worked, Ravi’s mind wandered, quietly tracing every detail. The gentle curve of her neck, the smooth sweep of hair that fell just past her shoulders, the way sunlight caught in the folds of her saree, making the gold border glow softly. Even in her silence, her emotions bled through, care mixed with disappointment, anger restrained by dignity.
 
To him, she seemed like a portrait of quiet resilience, a woman carved of calm and light, her silence heavier than words.
 
He realized that while he had admired her from the beginning, he had never truly understood her. Not the quiet strength, not the weight she carried in her calm demeanor, not the fragile yet unwavering line between anger and compassion. And now, seeing her in her everyday grace, in the midst of irritation and measured care, he felt a deep ache in his chest, a mix of longing, regret, and admiration.
 
Priya Didi finally set the breakfast tray on the table. The clinking of the plates was the only sound in the room for a few seconds. She moved with careful deliberation, not meeting his eyes. Her hands lingered on the edge of the tray, a faint sigh escaping her lips, a human sign that even anger could not erase her concern for the household, for the simple routines that tethered them to normalcy.
 
Ravi stood and helped place the cutlery, moving slowly, as if each motion needed permission. “I… I can serve. I mean, I’ll…” His voice faltered. He felt exposed, but he also needed to be present.
 
She nodded once, a small, curt gesture. “Do what you can. Just… don’t overstep.”
 
He obeyed, and for a moment, the room fell into quiet rhythm, the sound of cooking, the hum of the fan, the faint sunlight spilling across the tiles. Ravi stole glances at her, noting how her jaw was set, her lips slightly pursed, the faint redness of her cheeks, the subtle marks of anger and hurt intertwined with care.
 
It struck him again, how even in this restrained fury, she commanded presence. She didn’t need to speak to be felt; her entire being radiated something magnetic, sorrowful, and beautiful.

.