Fantasy 100 Days with My Wife: One Women, Two Desires, One Eternal Love

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 6: The twist and the Truths 




“Mango, mango! 3 Mango for 50 Rupees!”

That vendor’s shout—five minutes ago, crossing this very street—echoed in his memory.

And it was echoing now, through the phone speaker.
Sam’s office was just a kilometer from here.

Rahul connected the dots in a cold, sharp instant.

The mango vendor had reached near Sam’s office. That’s why his voice bled through the call in perfect sync.

Sam was not standing at the hotel thirty kilometers away.
Sam was lying.

If Sam were truly that far, the vendor’s cry wouldn’t reach the microphone in real time.

Unless Sam was close.
Very close.
Within this stretch.

And Rahul predicted: Sam was in his office right now, manipulating something.

Rage surged through him like hot oil.

Sam was lying about the location.

Sam was lying about being “in the lobby.”

And Sam was feeding him another video—perfectly timed—to push him deeper into the same spiral that had sent him crashing off that bridge.

Rahul wanted to test him. He decided to speak with Sam further to see how deep the lie ran.

“Sam,” he said into the still-live line, voice low and deliberate, “do one thing—call our friends, break into that hotel room—beat those bastards senseless. Beat Anandhi too. Do the revenge on behalf of me. Beat John mercilessly.”

Sam’s laugh came quick, a jagged bark through the static.

“Wait, Rahul—I’ve got a better plan. John is seduced by her, he even has a family, Anandhi turned like a bitch now, she is cock hungry… Making her a bitch is perfect revenge—an eye for an eye. I’ll round up some friends—barge into your home—fuck her melons out—teach her a lesson she won’t forget. I will take John to our side.”


Rahul’s breath caught—his heart thudded against his ribs—Sam’s glee twisted into something darker—“Their motive”—a chill crawled up his spine. Rahul kind of got the motive of Sam and others.

Whats your answer Rahul ?

Rahul? Shall i make a move? Tomorrrow? or tonight?

Rahul ended the call without a word. No goodbye. No explanation.

He stared at Anandhi one last time—still waving to a student, still oblivious, still 
radiant.

Then he leaned forward to the driver, voice low and deliberate.
“Go.”

The cab lurched forward, tires crunching gravel—his mind raced—“Test them—play this.”

As they neared Sam’s office—a squat brick building with faded red paint—he cut any remaining connection, slipped the phone into record mode, tucked it deep in his pocket—camera lens peeking out just enough. Rahul decided to catch them, watch them record their doings before he made a move. He bet on his new identity, which they wouldn’t suspect.


A kid’s shout pierced the air “Jeeva, pick that ball!”  two boys darted past, kicking up dust. Rahul froze “Jeeva?” a name sparked “Hide play.” He liked the name. He decided to name himself Jeeva. 

Until he dug deep enough to uncover the truths.
He stepped out, cab door slamming shut—dust swirled around his polished shoes—6'5", white skin gleaming, beard neat—20’s charm reborn—no fat, no bags. 

He strode toward the office, footsteps muffled by the hum of a nearby tailor’s shop—scissors snipped, a radio crooned—then spotted a cracked side window open just enough. He reached near, placed his mobile phone with recorder on the sill, angled perfectly toward the room inside.


He stepped back into shadow, listening, watching, recording.

Inside, the air hung thick with cigarette smoke,  Sam lounged on a sagging sofa, wiry frame slouched,John stood by a chipped desk, tall and lean, dark hair slick with sweat,, Kiran, stocky and restless, paced near a cracked window, bottles clinked on a table—whiskey fumes curled upward
.
John blinked—“Did Rahul believe it?”

Sam smirked, leaning forward, elbows on knees. “We’ve got videos in tons. I went to Mumbai myself—won’t he buy it?” His grin widened—cigarette dangled. “Spent 20,000 per clip—Chennai-based AI engineers, designers—to make sexual clips of Anandhi.”

Sam exhaled smoke slowly. “But it’s risky to involve you in the video. What if Rahul came back and had a fight with you… If we maintain she bedded strangers, Rahul will be fine for us to have her as revenge. In that way it will be clean win. Rahul loser will agree to revenge, we will enjoy her body. Anandhi won’t make it an issue if she realises it was her own husband orchestrated it. I have call recorders—once Rahul says ‘go and fuck her,’ I will record it as proof.”


“But now as a reason I included you in the fake video,” Sam continued. “I had to convince him to take you into the gang who will punish her for his revenge.”

John laughed, a low rumble—“Seven years in politics—no woman’s said no to me or my cash. She despised me.”

Sam rubbed his hands. “Same story here… I got slaps—lucky I grabbed her melons once.”

Kiran’s eyes glinted—“How was it?”

Sam continued… “First time was easy. She was alone after college—said she needed help with some forms for the kids’ fees. I offered cash, said no strings. But she caught my intention… She refused at first—‘Rahul is my only,’ she said.

“But I kept coming back. Small gifts. college supplies for Riya and Rohan. Then one evening, power cut—rain pouring outside. I ‘helped’ her with the inverter. Hand brushed her waist. She froze. I pushed—grabbed her from behind, squeezed those tits hard. She slapped me—she almost reached my house to complain to my wife… But my wife smelled it. Shit, three years since the incident, I need answer for the slaps. Only way is to fuck her wild.”

Rahul/Jeeva stood frozen at the side window, phone recording every word, every laugh, every filthy detail.

The room spun.

Anandhi hadn’t cheated.

These guys had tried molesting her.
And these men—his so-called friends—had orchestrated it all.''
The videos weren’t real affairs.
They were crimes.

Deepfakes? AI videos? To manipulate him and get his own word d to fuck his own wife. Shit 
His blood boiled.
John smirked. 

“I’ve done worse—she’s clueless.”
He declared.
Sam, Kiran looked at him with a question.

What do you have done… every eye on him.


John continued…

[Rocky@handsome]

Dont predict my story with initial setups :) but i can ensure a nice read hopefully

Exactly!! It's too early to jump to the conclusion!! 
I mean to say —This situation isn't as straightforward as it seems; there is a lot of complex depth behind this cheating. Yes, Rahul currently only has that one video of his wife Aanadhi sleeping with someone else, and he is setting out for revenge based entirely on that single piece of evidence. 

However, he has no idea that his actions will uncover dark, disturbing secrets that are far more terrifying than the infidelity itself. There could be multiple people involved—whose conspiracy is actually driving all of this? We definitely shouldn't forget a few key details. For instance, —how exactly did Rahul's friend, Sam, get his hands on that video?? Is he the part of conspiracy??
—Also, Rahul and Aanadhi eloped, and both of their families were furious about their decision. It's entirely possible that one of their families played a role in pushing Aanadhi into this situation.??
—And then there's Suriya, the neighbor with a history of being a womanizer who was completely obsessed with Aanadhi. 

All things considered, it would be way too hasty to jump to conclusions right now. We simply can't make any solid predictions this early in the story.

Anyone could be be the culprit or most probably many could be involved in this dark conspiracy!! 


Regards 

Rocky ❤️

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 7 : Further More Truths


John nodded—“I’ve done worse—she’s clueless.”

He leaned back against the chipped desk, whiskey glass glinting in his hand like a trophy he hadn’t yet earned. The room’s single bulb cast harsh shadows across his face, sharpening the smirk that never quite left his lips. His voice dropped low, thick with the kind of memory that made men lean in closer, even when they hated what they were hearing.

“Last annual function,” he began, swirling the amber liquid slowly. “She was carrying the plate for the chief guest—saree the colour of fresh cream, pallu slipping just enough to show the dip of her waist. I followed her to the principal’s room. Quiet. 

She didn’t hear the door click shut behind me.”

He paused, eyes half-lidded, reliving it.

“Slipped a little powder into her water glass while she arranged the tray—nothing heavy, just enough to make her dizzy, make her legs give out. She swayed, hand on the table, confused. I caught her before she hit the floor—carried her to the old sofa in the corner. Laid her down like she weighed nothing. Her breathing was slow, 
shallow… lips parted just enough.”

John’s free hand flexed unconsciously, as though feeling the memory in his palm.

I waited for 20 mins for her to completely lose movement and consious.. 

“I kissed her breast first—right through the blouse. The fabric was thin, warm from her skin. I could feel the nipple harden under my tongue even though she was half-gone. Unhooked two buttons—slow, careful—let those heavy 34D tits spill out into the cool air. Dark areolas, stiff peaks begging. I sucked one hard, rolled it between my teeth until it swelled even more. She moaned—soft, unconscious, but real. Her body knew what her mind couldn’t fight.”

Kiran shifted, throat working visibly. Sam stayed perfectly still, cigarette forgotten between his fingers.

John continued, voice dropping to a husky murmur.

“Fondled them both—kneaded like dough, thumbs circling the nipples until they were red and aching. She arched a little—instinct, not consent. Then I stood up, unzipped. Rubbed my cock across her face—slow drags, smearing pre-cum over her cheek, her lips. She was out, but her mouth opened wider when the head brushed it. I almost lost it. Wanted to fuck her throat until she choked awake.” But the medicine would take only  few hours of impact

He exhaled hard through his nose.

“I decide to fuck her first, i was about to push inside her—had her saree hiked to her thighs, legs parted, her panties already damp from whatever her body was dreaming—when something fell. 

A metal tray, maybe—crashed behind me. I panicked. Too dark, too close to the hall. 

I ran. Zipped up, fixed my shirt, slipped back into the function like nothing happened. When I looked again… she was gone. Vanished. I thought she’d woken up, stumbled out, remembered fragments. Feared she’d scream for help. But nothing. No complaint. No cop. Just… distance. She cut me off completely after that night. I feard she realised it was me who does something bad she could not remember. 

She Only spoke when forced. Looked at me like she knew exactly what I’d tried to do.”

Kiran’s jaw hung slack. “Should’ve recorded it. Blackmailed her into spreading those legs willingly.”

John shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. “No. I want her awake. Want her to look me in the eye while I take what she’s denied me for years. No shortcuts. No drugs next time. She’ll come to me because she has no choice—or because she finally breaks and wants it.”

Sam grinned wider, cigarette ash falling unnoticed onto the floor.

“VIP wants her too—that iconic politico she silenced last year. The one who sent her those disgusting texts and she threatened to expose.   She thinks no one can take her. Let’s prove her wrong.”

He leaned forward, eyes glittering.

“We’ve got the ai videos to break Rahul  if he ever crawls back. We’ve got the recordings of him saying ‘do it’ on call. Once he gives the green light—even half-drunk, half-dead—he’s complicit. We barge in, take turns on her melons, her mouth, her cunt—make her scream our names. If she fights, we leak the clips. If she’s smart… she learns to spread for us every week. Clean win. Rahul loses his wife, we gain a toy, and Anandhi learns her place.”

John raised his glass in mock toast.
“To fresh meat.”

Kiran chuckled low.
Sam’s grin turned feral.

Rahul/Jeeva stood motionless at the side window, phone capturing every word, every filthy laugh, every detail of the conspiracy that had almost destroyed his life.

His blood didn’t just boil.
It ignited.

Anandhi hadn’t cheated.
She’d was their target, they wanted to hunt her.
She was Drugged. Molested. Targeted.

And these men—his so-called friends—had turned her refusal into their vendetta.
The videos were lies.
The betrayal was theirs.

His new body thrummed—heart hammering, cock still traitorously hard from the earlier clips, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Eighty-nine days.
Day 4 ticking.

Jeeva told himself its time for the Action Mode.

[heygiwriter]

Exactly!! It's too early to jump to the conclusion!! 
I mean to say —This situation isn't as straightforward as it seems; there is a lot of complex depth behind this cheating. Yes, Rahul currently only has that one video of his wife Aanadhi sleeping with someone else, and he is setting out for revenge based entirely on that single piece of evidence. 

However, he has no idea that his actions will uncover dark, disturbing secrets that are far more terrifying than the infidelity itself. There could be multiple people involved—whose conspiracy is actually driving all of this? We definitely shouldn't forget a few key details. For instance, —how exactly did Rahul's friend, Sam, get his hands on that video?? Is he the part of conspiracy??
—Also, Rahul and Aanadhi eloped, and both of their families were furious about their decision. It's entirely possible that one of their families played a role in pushing Aanadhi into this situation.??
—And then there's Suriya, the neighbor with a history of being a womanizer who was completely obsessed with Aanadhi. 

All things considered, it would be way too hasty to jump to conclusions right now. We simply can't make any solid predictions this early in the story.

Anyone could be be the culprit or most probably many could be involved in this dark conspiracy!! 


Regards 

Rocky ❤️

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 8: The Reckoning in the Smoke-Filled Room


The cracked side window let in a thin slice of afternoon sun, dust motes dancing in the beam like tiny witnesses. Jeeva stood motionless outside, phone pressed tight to the sill, recording every filthy syllable that spilled from the men inside. His new body thrummed—heart slamming against ribs that no longer sagged with fat, fists clenched so hard the knuckles blanched white. Rage boiled in his veins, hot and thick, but Madhavan’s warning rang clear through the storm in his head:

“Strain could tear you. Tissues fragile. Heart recalibrated but not invincible.”

He forced a slow breath. Counted to five. Then ten. The recording ended with John’s mocking toast—“To fresh meat.” The room fell into a low chuckle, glasses clinking.
Enough.

Jeeva sent the recorded clips to his email. He then pocketed the phone—still recording, just in case—then stepped around to the front door. It swung open with a soft creak. He walked in like he belonged.

“Hello, Bastards, what a schemer you guys are.”
The room froze.

Sam jolted upright on the sagging sofa, cigarette dropping ash onto his thigh. John’s hand paused mid-reach for the whiskey bottle, eyes narrowing to slits. Kiran spun so fast his chair scbangd backward, face paling under the single bulb’s harsh glow.
“Who the fuck are you?” Sam barked, voice cracking halfway.
Jeeva closed the door behind him with a deliberate click. Tall, lean, fair skin glowing even in the dim light, black shirt stretched tight across shoulders and chest, jeans hugging powerful thighs. 


His face—sharp jaw, intense dark eyes, light stubble framing a half-smile—was the ghost of the Rahul they’d known ten years ago, but sharper, younger, dangerous.


“I’m Jeeva,” he said, voice smooth, almost pleasant. “Prakash’s younger brother. He sent me this morning—said you might need help sorting things out.”


Silence stretched, brittle and sharp.

Sam’s eyes darted from Jeeva’s face to his body, confusion twisting into suspicion. “ Rahul doesn’t have a brother.” but you looks like him in younger days.

Jeeva’s smile didn’t waver. “Family genes run strong. Some skip a generation.”
John stepped forward, shoulders squared, trying to reclaim size.

Whats with the bluffing the scehemers and all? 

“What did you hear?”

“Enough.”

Jeeva pulled the phone from his pocket, thumbed the screen, and held it up. The recording played on speaker—Sam’s voice first, clear and gleeful: “We barge in, take turns on her melons, her mouth, her cunt—make her scream our names.” Then John’s low rumble: “I want her awake. Want her to look me in the eye while I take what she’s denied me.”

The room went dead.

Sam lunged—“Shut him up!”—fist swinging wild.


Jeeva sidestepped with fluid ease, the new body moving like liquid. Sam’s punch cut empty air. John charged next, grabbing for Jeeva’s collar. Jeeva caught his wrist mid-motion, twisted hard—John yelped, knee buckling. Kiran swung a bottle; Jeeva ducked, the glass shattering against the wall in a spray of amber and shards.

He didn’t hit back. Not yet.

Instead he raised the phone again—recording still rolling—and let the clip loop once more.
“If she’s smart… she learns to spread for us every week.”
The three men froze.


Jeeva’s voice stayed calm, almost conversational. “Media gets this, your careers are ash. Sam, your shop license? Gone. John, your political seat? Vapor. Kiran, whatever little business you run? Poisoned. And that’s before the security officer arrive.”

Sam’s fists shook at his sides. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Jeeva tilted his head. “I’ve already mailed a copy to my personal inbox. One tap and it goes everywhere—news channels, women’s forums, your wives’ phones. Try me.” You never know my connections dont force me to.

Silence again, heavier this time.

John cursed under his breath, rubbing his wrist. Kiran backed against the wall, eyes wide. Sam stared at Jeeva’s face—really stared—then at the broad shoulders, the flat stomach, the effortless power in every line of him. 

“You look like Rahul ,” Sam muttered, voice hoarse.
College kid? Yup looks like his . Secret son?”
Jeeva laughed—short, cold. “Family genes.”

He stepped closer. The three men flinched.
Okay i realise you try now to be friendly with me.. Good  decision. 
Let me come straight… 

“Here’s how this works,” Jeeva said. “You never touch her. You never speak her name. You never send another video. You never breathe in her direction. One whisper—one rumor—and this recording becomes public domain. Understood?”
Sam nodded once, jerky. John swallowed hard. Kiran looked at the floor.
Jeeva pocketed the phone. “Good.”

He turned toward the door, then paused.

“One more thing.”
He looked back over his shoulder, eyes glittering.

“I’ll be staying in town for a while. Watching. Testing. If I see even a hint of you circling her… you’ll wish you’d never met Rahul.”

I will send the video to Rahul.

The door closed behind him with a quiet finality.


Outside, the afternoon heat pressed down. Jeeva walked fast, pulse thundering in his ears, new body alive with adrenaline. No pain in his chest. No shortness of breath. Just power—clean, sharp, intoxicating.

He had won the first round.
But the war wasn’t over.


He entered the car.. 

Anandhi’s face flashed in his mind, not the drugged, violated version John described, not the fake moans in the videos, but the real one: standing in the collegeyard that morning, saree swaying, textbook pressed to her chest, laughing softly with students. Radiant. Untouched by their filth. Loyal.

Or was she?

Doubt lingered, stubborn and sharp. The videos might be fake. The gang’s plans might be vile. But what if some kernel of truth hid in the lies? What if she had wavered, even once?


20 + Years of friendship and they backstabbed him for the heat, his wife just a decade of knowing each other, and he gave her valid reason to cheat him yet she seemed to remain loyal? may me on surface?  he struggled to believe that she is still pure and loyal. He decided to check it for himself. 



pure. Yet he struggled to believe it fully. Sam had fondled her breasts once—why had she never told him? John had drugged her at the annual function—who had thrown that metal tray to stop him? And who was the politician they mentioned? How had Anandhi stayed untouched, never hunted, never broken?


Was someone protecting her? A secret lover? Its highly possible!


In the past annual function, who had thrown some metal stuff on John, why Anandhi never confronted. 


He needed to know.

He needed to test him to see if the woman who once ran away with him under mango trees and tied a mangalsutra in camphor smoke would still look at a young, tall stranger with heat in her eyes. See if her body would betray her the way his old one had betrayed him.


If she proved her loyalty, the next part is who else had similar lusty thoughts on her? Revealing himself now will spoil all . 


He decided to wear the mask under the name JEEVA. 


Eighty-eight days left.
Revenge or truth?



After everything, Rahul no longer wanted to trust anyone. Let the truth unveil itself.



He’d play both sides until the answer bled clear.
Jeeva gave the cab driver the address of the small apartment building of Anandhi’s

Time to move in.
Time to begin the real game.

[jiivawonderland]

Wow welcome back 

best wishes for new story.

Interesting setup so far. 

asusual you kept twist and turns. so anandhi didnt cheat so far. or did someone else is her lover

[heygiwriter]

Wow welcome back 

best wishes for new story.

Interesting setup so far. 

asusual you kept twist and turns. so anandhi didnt cheat so far. or did someone else is her lover

Thanks

[heygiwriter]

Anandhi 

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 9: Rahul wear's Jeeva's Mask 



The Car rattled through Chennai’s evening traffic, horns blaring, streetlights smearing into orange streaks. Jeeva sat in the back seat, jaw tight, new phone glowing in his lap. He had made the decision the moment he left Sam’s office: no more Rahul. Rahul was dead on that roadside. From now on, he was Jeeva — younger brother, distant relative, the perfect stranger who could walk straight into Anandhi’s life without raising alarms.
He needed answers. Five questions burned in his head like brands:

1. Why did Anandhi hide so much? The slaps, the groping, the drugged attempt at the annual function — why had she never told him?
   
2. For sure she doesnt defend this attack alone, she cant be clueless. if so Who was actually protecting her? How had she survived years of lechers circling like vultures? She has to powerful or she should have a man t o protect her. A Secret man who was that? If not affair will he be a friend? she seemed like not a cheater.. 
   
3. What if she really was a cheater? If so, who was the man?
   
4. Even if she hadn’t cheated yet… what if she succumbed to new pleasure?
   
5. If his own 20-year-old “friends” had the guts to plot her to take her in bed, who else had been eying her all these years?
   

The past weeks had been brutal. The crash. The machine. The chemical storm still raging inside him. His new body didn’t just feel young — it felt feral. Every thought of Anandhi, every flash of those AI videos, every imagined moan made his cock throb instantly, painfully hard, leaking pre-cum against his jeans without warning. The stabilizers Madhavan gave him were supposed to calm the system. Instead they seemed to have wired his libido to maximum. He was erect half the day now, especially when doubt and rage mixed.

With his new looks, He would test her fidelity.

If she passed — pure, loyal, still his — he would reveal everything, clear every debt with the 30 lakhs, and rebuild.

If she failed… he would punish her slowly, humiliate her inside four walls, throw her out, take the kids, and start fresh somewhere far away. Half the money for them, half for him. No mercy.
The cab pulled up outside the address Madhavan had texted — a dingy photo studio in a back lane near Egmore. The contact was a thin, nervous man named Vignesh who worked fast and asked no questions. Two hours later Jeeva walked out with a fresh envelope:

• Birth certificate: Jeeva Prakash, age 20.
  
• College degree (fake but flawless).
  
• Passport.
  
• driving licence.
  
• Official documents proving he was Rahul’s “cousin brother” — 12 years younger.
  
  

Everything legal on paper. Everything a lie in blood.

He booked a hotel near the station for the night. The room was small, fan whirring lazily overhead, single bed with a thin mattress. Jeeva locked the door, stripped to his boxers, and sat on the edge of the bed. The plan he had sketched in the cab now felt crystal clear.

Tomorrow he would arrive at Anandhi’s building as Jeeva — Rahul’s distant relative, searching for his missing “elder brother.”

He would act shocked at the resemblance. Let her wonder if he was a secret son.

He would calm her with the story: ran away from home because his family tried to force him into a rich-girl marriage, waiting for foreign university admission.

He would offer to help with the kids, the debts, the flat — anything to get close.

Then he would watch. Follow her routine. Test her. See if her body betrayed her when a tall, young, hard-bodied stranger stood inches away.
If she stayed loyal… he would reveal himself when the time was right and they would heal together.


If she fell… he would make her regret every moan.
He opened the new phone. The AI videos were still saved.
He pressed play.

The first clip loaded. Anandhi on her knees, lips stretched wide around John’s thick cock. Wet sucking sounds. Her eyes half-lidded in surrender. The second clip — her heavy 34D breasts spilling free, nipples dark and stiff, John’s hands kneading them roughly while she moaned around his shaft.

It looked 100% real.
The chemicals in his blood surged.

His cock jerked violently inside the boxers, thickening in seconds, veins pulsing, head already slick and flushed deep red. The sensitivity was insane — just the sight of her mouth stretched around another man made the shaft throb so hard it hurt. Pre-cum leaked in thick strands, soaking the fabric.

Jeeva shoved the boxers down. His new cock sprang free — longer, thicker, heavier than he had ever known. It stood straight up against his stomach, twitching with every heartbeat. He wrapped his fist around it. The first stroke drew a low, broken groan from his throat.

He played the video again.

Anandhi’s moan filled the room. In his mind it twisted — the same moan she used to make for him under the mango trees, now given to someone else. His hand moved faster. The new body was merciless: every ridge of his fingers sent electric sparks straight to his balls. Pre-cum coated his palm, making wet, obscene sounds that matched the video.

He imagined it was real.
Anandhi on her knees for John.
Anandhi spreading for Sam.

Anandhi riding some unknown man while she thought her husband was rotting in Mumbai.

His hips bucked. Balls drew up tight. The orgasm crashed over him like a wave — violent, endless. Thick ropes of cum shot across his chest, his abs, the hotel bedsheet, pulse after pulse. Yet his cock stayed rock-hard, still leaking, ready for more.

He didn’t stop.
Second round. Faster. Rougher.

He pictured Anandhi in their flat, saree pallu fallen, blouse open, moaning his new name — “Jeeva… harder…” — while her body betrayed everything she had sworn to Rahul.

Third orgasm hit even harder. His vision blurred. Cum painted his thighs. The chemical storm made him feel like he could go all night.
He collapsed back on the pillow, chest heaving, cock still half-hard against his stomach, glistening.

Eighty-eight days left.
Tomorrow he would step into her world as Jeeva.
Tomorrow the real test would begin.

He closed his eyes, the taste of rage and lust bitter on his tongue.
Cheating or Pure?

He would find out with his own hands… and with his new, insatiable body.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 10: The Guardian & The Ghost

The evening sun bled orange across the small town, turning the peeling paint on the apartment building a dull rust color. Jeeva climbed the creaking concrete stairs to the third floor, each step deliberate and quiet. He had left his small bag in the cab downstairs—travel light, play smart. No luggage to explain, no noise to announce him. Just a tall stranger in a fitted black shirt and slim jeans, fair skin catching the last light, beard neatly trimmed, body taut and restless from the chemical storm still raging inside.

He reached the corridor. Dim, narrow, smelling faintly of damp walls and cooking dal from somewhere below. The ceiling fan spun slow overhead, stirring warm air. Anandhi’s door was closed—wooden frame worn, a simple brass lock glinting. No sound from inside. No kids’ laughter. No footsteps.

He leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded, eyes fixed on her door. He would wait. Watch. Test. See who came and went. See if any shadow slipped in after dark. See if the woman he once ran away with under mango trees still carried secrets behind that locked door.

Minutes stretched. Five. Ten. The fan’s lazy hum was the only sound.
Then heavy footsteps echoed up the stairwell—slow, confident, like a man who owned the building.

Suriya appeared.

Six-foot-two of gym-carved muscle filled the corridor entrance. Tight black T-shirt stretched over a thick chest and carved six-pack, shorts clinging to powerful thighs, fair skin gleaming with a faint sheen of post-workout sweat. His dark eyes locked on Jeeva instantly—sharp, assessing, territorial.

Suriya’s hand shot out, grabbing Jeeva’s shirt collar in one fluid motion. The fabric pulled tight across Jeeva’s shoulders.

“Who the fuck are you?” Suriya’s voice was low, rough, edged with warning.
Jeeva’s new body reacted before his mind caught up. He shoved Suriya’s grip off with a sharp twist—muscles coiling like steel springs, no tremble, no weakness. The force made Suriya take half a step back.

“I’m Jeeva,” he said, voice calm but cold. “Who the hell are you? Hands off, mister.”
Suriya’s stance widened—shoulders rolling forward, a living wall of intimidation. His eyes raked Jeeva from head to toe: the sharp jaw, the broad shoulders, the narrow waist, the way the jeans hugged strong thighs. Recognition flickered—then suspicion.
“I saw you staring at her door,” Suriya said. “You think she’s alone? You think you can just show up and hit on her?”

Jeeva’s jaw tightened. “You think you’re her guardian or something?”
Suriya stepped closer—close enough that Jeeva could smell the clean sweat and faint deodorant on him.

“Yes,” Suriya said, voice dropping lower. “I am. Her husband is my friend. He may be away, but she’s got a husband. I’m taking care of her. Got the message? Now go.”
The words landed like a slap.
Taking care of her.

Jeeva’s blood surged hot. The double meaning sliced through him—protective neighbor… or something more? The chemical storm inside him flared; his cock twitched hard against his jeans, sudden and painful, thickening in seconds at the thought of Suriya near Anandhi. He fought it down, nails digging into his palms.
“You don’t know me,” Jeeva said, voice low and dangerous. “And you don’t know what I’m here for.”

Suriya’s eyes narrowed further. “I know men like you. Young, cocky, thinking a pretty woman alone is easy prey. She’s not. Walk away.”


Jeeva opened his mouth to snap back—then froze.

Footsteps. Light, familiar, coming up the stairs.

Anandhi appeared at the top of the landing.

She carried a small cloth bag of vegetables in one hand, textbook tucked under her arm, cream saree swaying gently with each step. Her fair skin glowed in the fading light, black hair pinned in a loose bun with a few strands escaping to frame her face. The saree pallu had slipped slightly on the climb, exposing the soft curve of her waist and the gentle swell of her hip.

Her eyes lifted—and locked on Jeeva.
For one heartbeat, the world stopped.

Her breath caught visibly. The bag trembled in her grip. The textbook slipped an inch.
“Rahul…?”

The name escaped her lips in a whisper—soft, disbelieving, full of old love and sudden pain.

Jeeva’s heart slammed against his ribs. His cock surged again—throbbing painfully against the denim, head slick and straining, the chemical sensitivity making every pulse feel like a fist around him. He couldn’t breathe.

Anandhi’s eyes shimmered. She took one step forward, then another—slow, as if afraid he would vanish.
“My Rahul…”
Her voice cracked on the last word.

Suriya’s head snapped toward her. “Anandhi?”
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze stayed glued to Jeeva—searching his face, the jaw, the eyes, the body that was hers once, now reborn.

Jeeva stood frozen, every muscle locked. The chemical heat roared through him—cock so hard it hurt, pre-cum soaking through his boxers—but beneath it, something deeper cracked open.

Love.
Guilt.
Doubt.
Rage.

He was supposed to test her.
Punish her.
Leave her.

But the way she said his name—his real name—like a prayer after ten years of silence—tore something loose inside him.

Anandhi reached out, fingers trembling, almost touching his cheek.
“Rahul… is it really you?”

Jeeva swallowed hard. His voice came out rough, younger, unfamiliar even to himself.
“I’m… Jeeva.”

Her hand froze mid-air.

Suriya stepped forward, voice sharp. “Anandhi, you know this guy?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on Jeeva—wide, wet, searching.

The corridor fan spun overhead, slow and indifferent.
The test had already begun.

[Mukul@99]

Wow ! Such a fantastic read. Tightly written & highly entertaining. Can't wait to find out what is going to happen next. I have to say it .. You are a master story-weaver.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 11: Jeeva stays with Anandhi. 


“Yes,” Suriya said, voice dropping lower. “I am. Her husband is my friend. He may be away, but she’s got a husband. I’m taking care of her. Got the message? Now go.”
The words landed like a slap.
Taking care of her.

Jeeva’s blood surged hot. The double meaning sliced through him—protective neighbor… or something more?

The chemical storm inside him flared; his cock twitched hard against his jeans, sudden and painful, thickening in seconds at the thought of Suriya near Anandhi. He fought it down, nails digging into his palms.

“You don’t know me,” Jeeva said, voice low and dangerous. “And you don’t know what I’m here for.”

Suriya’s eyes narrowed further. “I know men like you. 
Young, cocky, thinking a pretty woman alone is easy prey. She’s not. Walk away.”
Jeeva opened his mouth to snap back—then froze.

Footsteps. Light, familiar, coming up the stairs.

Anandhi appeared at the top of the landing.

She carried a small cloth bag of vegetables in one hand, textbook tucked under her arm, cream saree with faint gold trim swaying gently with each step. Riya and Rohan bounded at her sides—college bags bouncing, Riya clutching a drawing, Rohan kicking a pebble along the floor. Anandhi’s fair white skin caught the dim corridor light like polished marble; black hair pinned in a tight, practical bun with a few rebellious strands escaping to frame her face. The saree pallu had slipped slightly on the climb, exposing the soft curve of her waist and the gentle swell of her hip. Her 34D bust rose and fell with each breath, straining gently against the blouse, nipples faintly outlined under the thin fabric from the evening humidity.

Her eyes lifted—and locked on Jeeva.
For one heartbeat, the world stopped.

Her breath caught visibly. The bag trembled in her grip. The textbook slipped an inch.
“Rahul…?”

The name escaped her lips in a whisper—soft, disbelieving, full of old love and sudden pain.
Jeeva’s heart slammed against his ribs. His cock surged again—throbbing painfully against the denim, head slick and straining, the chemical sensitivity making every pulse feel like a fist around him. 
He couldn’t breathe.

Anandhi’s eyes shimmered. She took one step forward, then another—slow, as if afraid he would vanish.
“My Rahul…”

Her voice cracked on the last word.
Riya and Rohan froze mid-step, staring at the tall stranger who looked so much like the father they barely remembered.

Suriya’s head snapped toward her. “Anandhi, you know this guy?”
She didn’t answer. Her gaze stayed glued to Jeeva—wide, wet, searching.

Jeeva swallowed hard. His voice came out rough, younger, unfamiliar even to himself.
“I’m… Jeeva.”

Her hand froze mid-air, fingers trembling as if to touch his cheek.
Suriya stepped forward, voice sharp. “Anandhi—”

“How…?” Anandhi whispered, eyes never leaving Jeeva’s face. “How come you look same like Rahul… are you his some sort of secret son?”

Jeeva laughed—short, easy, practiced. “Many would doubt. You know Selvaraj—Rahul’s father’s brother? Even grandfather had this face resemblance. Chin broader on some, eyes shorter or longer on others… not much difference. See for yourself.”


He pulled out his phone, thumbed open a photo he’d AI-edited earlier—old family pictures stitched together, faces blurred just enough to sell the lie. Most looked eerily similar: same jawline, same intense eyes, same height. He held it out.

Anandhi leaned in, breath catching as she scanned the screen. Her fingers brushed his as she took the phone—warm, trembling. Jeeva’s cock jerked violently in his jeans, pre-cum soaking through in a sudden rush. He clenched his jaw to keep from groaning.

She looked up, eyes shining. “It’s… uncanny.”

Jeeva shrugged. “Family genes. I can explain more, but… would you mind if a guest stands in the corridor forever?”
Anandhi blinked, cheeks flushing. “Sorry—come in. Please.”

She turned without another word, unlocking the door with shaking hands. She didn’t even glance at Suriya. Her mind was fully occupied by the impossible resemblance, the ghost of Rahul standing in her doorway.

Suriya’s face darkened. He stepped forward. “Anandhi, I thought he was some rowdy or rough trying to hit on you—a lone woman—so I warned him.”

She paused, half-turning. “That’s okay, sir.”

The words were polite, distant. She didn’t look at him. Her eyes flicked back to Jeeva—soft, searching, almost hungry.
“Come in,” she said again, voice warm, inviting, pulling the door wide.

Jeeva shot Suriya one last cold glance—lips curling into a wicked, private smile.
“She didn’t even look at him. ‘Taking care’—my foot.”

He stepped past the threshold.

The door shut with a soft thud.

Inside, the aroma of cumin and turmeric wafted from the kitchen. The small flat felt exactly as he remembered—walls faded yellow, worn sofa, kids’ drawings pinned to the wall. Riya and Rohan dumped their bags and ran to the sofa, giggling.
Anandhi turned to Jeeva. “You look exactly like my Rahul.”
Her words washed over him—a balm to a mind scarred by betrayal. Relief surged, sudden and sharp.

“She’s pure. Dedicated. No boundaries crossed.”

He pulled out a small packet of sweets—ghee-soaked laddoos—and plastic toys he’d grabbed last-minute: cars for Rohan, a doll for Riya. The kids squealed, tearing wrappers, laughter bouncing off the walls.

Anandhi sat on the sofa edge, saree rustling. “Tell me.”
The lies flowed smoothly.

“I’m a relative—distant cousin. I ran away from home because they tried to force me into a marriage with some wealthy girl. I’m waiting for admission to a foreign university. Once it comes, I’ll leave.”

Her eyes softened. A faint blush crept up her neck as she looked at his face. “You’ve got his spark.”

Jeeva teased, voice low. “Don’t look at me like that. A woman gazing at a man like that means trouble.”

She laughed—soft, genuine. “You’ve got his face. How can’t I blush?”

Then she sobered. “But… don’t see me as sister-in-law. See me as a real sister. Issue fixed.”

Her smile held—trust pure, unguarded.

Then the important question came.

“Ever since your family threw us out, no one contacted us. How did you find the address? And… it’s been a week since Rahul picked up my call. I’m worried.”

Jeeva leaned forward, voice gentle.

“Everyone’s searching for me—my family knows they cut ties with Rahul, so naturally they won’t look here. That’s why I came. I have some cash I earned myself. If you need it, take it. Just give me a few months’ stay.”

Anandhi playfully swatted his hand. “More than money, a relative here is what feels earned. Stay as long as you need. Your brother didn’t stay here long—he sacrificed himself for the family. At least I’ll see your face and get some relaxation.”

The words hit like a punch.

Jeeva felt the pain twist deep. He badly wanted to reveal himself—right then, right there. Pull her into his arms, tell her everything, end the charade.

But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He wasn’t sure of anything. Suriya’s claim—“I’m taking care of her”—still gnawed at him. The chemical storm still raged inside. Doubt still whispered.

Night fell.

He played with Riya and Rohan—plastic cars zoomed across the scratched wooden floor, dolls danced. Laughter bounced off cracked walls.

Anandhi emerged from the kitchen in comfort nightwear—a loose kurta that clung tight across her chest. The 34D breast pressed hard against the fabric, nipples faintly visible through the thin cotton, curves singing with every movement as she readied his bed—sheets smoothed, pillow fluffed.


Kids barged back—play stretched until 11 PM. They slumped asleep. Anandhi carried them—one by one—Riya’s arms dangling, Rohan’s head lolling. The kurta stretched tight as she bent, outlining every curve.

Jeeva watched.

“What assets—lips, boobs, shape, ass—who wouldn’t crave her?”
He grinned darkly. “Her fault—born gorgeous.”

Then he sank onto the guest cot.


Sleep came fast, heavy, pulling him under like black water.



He was back in the flat — the same faded yellow walls, the same scratched wooden floor, the same slow ceiling fan stirring warm air. But the light felt wrong — too golden, too soft, like candle flame instead of tube light. The air smelled stronger — cumin, turmeric, jasmine from her hair oil, and underneath it all, the musky, intimate scent of skin and anticipation.

Jeeva stood in the shadowed corner near the kitchen doorway, unseen, frozen. He tried to move — limbs locked. Tried to shout — throat sealed. All he could do was watch.
The front door creaked open — barely a whisper.
Suriya slipped inside.
He moved like a thief — silent, deliberate, six-foot-two of gym-carved muscle filling the space. Tight black T-shirt already half-soaked with sweat, clinging to every ridge of his six-pack, shorts riding low on powerful hips. His fair skin gleamed under the low lamp light, veins standing out on thick forearms. His dark eyes were hungry, locked on the bedroom door.
Anandhi lay in bed.
She was asleep — or appeared to be — lying on her side under a thin sheet, comfort nightwear slightly rumpled, one arm dbangd over the pillow. Her fair skin glowed in the dim light, black hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink, 34D breasts rising and falling with slow, even breaths, nipples faintly outlined through the thin cotton.
Suriya paused at the doorway — watching her for a long moment. Then he moved.
He crossed the room silently. Kneeled beside the bed. His large hands reached out — fingers hooking the hem of her nighty, slowly lifting it up her stomach. The fabric dragged over her skin — exposing the soft curve of her waist, the gentle swell of her lower belly, then higher — until her heavy breasts spilled free. Dark nipples stiffened instantly in the cool air, peaking hard as if begging for touch.

Jeeva’s chest locked. He wanted to scream — to lung to warn her. Nothing came out. His body wouldn’t obey.


Suriya’s hands moved lower — tugging the pants down her thighs. Anandhi’s legs parted slightly in sleep (or feigned sleep), exposing the soft mound between them — panties already darkened at the center. He peeled them aside slowly — revealing glistening folds, swollen clit peeking out.

Jeeva’s cock jerked violently in his jeans — throbbing painfully, pre-cum soaking through the denim in a sudden rush. Shame and rage warred inside him.

Suriya stood — unzipping. His cock sprang free — thick, veined, heavy, head already slick. He stroked himself once — slow, deliberate — then climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs. His muscular back blocked Jeeva’s view almost completely — broad shoulders, rippling lats, powerful ass flexing as he positioned himself.

Jeeva strained — desperate to see — but Suriya’s nude body filled the frame, blocking everything except glimpses: Anandhi’s suddenly woke up 

Made Suriya getting Shocked. 

her voice began.
“I’m not sleeping im just acting… to see what you’re up to.”
Clear. Calm. Amused.

Suriya laughed — low, triumphant.
So you are in 

Anandhi sat up slowly — pushing Suriya back with surprising strength. She stood — completely nude now — nightwear discarded on the floor. Her body was breathtaking — 34D breasts full and heavy, nipples dark and stiff, waist narrowing to wide hips, thick thighs framing the glistening wetness between them. She walked straight toward Jeeva in the corner.

He couldn’t move.

She stopped inches away — close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her skin, smell the jasmine and arousal on her.
“Rahul,” she said softly, eyes mocking. “You leaked just seeing us together? We’re just nude… we haven’t even started yet. How come? So weak?”

Jeeva tried to speak im not weak now im with superior power, i will do twice the effect of suriya he wanted to say this but — mouth wouldn’t open. His cock strained painfully against his jeans — head slick, throbbing so hard it hurt. A wet spot spread visibly on the denim.

Suriya appeared behind her — naked, cock still hard, smirking over her shoulder.

Something striked, she called him Rahul and Suriya didnt seemed shocked so is Anandhi 

“You know me,” Jeeva finally forced out, voice cracking. “I’m Rahul…”

Anandhi laughed — soft, cruel. “Yes… we know.”
Suriya’s hand slid around her waist — possessive — cupping one heavy breast, thumb flicking the stiff nipple. Anandhi leaned back into him, eyes never leaving Jeeva’s.

“You loser,” Suriya said.
Anandhi looked down — mocking — at the obvious bulge in Jeeva’s jeans, the dark wet patch spreading.

“Rahul… you’re done.”
She reached out — fingers brushing the front of his jeans, right over the throbbing head.

In a rage, Rahul kicked on Suriya, and a fight appears and Anandhi pushed Jeeva aka Rahul on cot.

Jeeva jolted awake. 

ITS A DREAM 

Cot empty. Flat dark. Fan still spinning slow.

Sweat soaked his shirt. His cock stood painfully hard against his jeans — throbbing, leaking — and he realized with a sick lurch that he had already come. Thick, hot cum had soaked through the denim in several pulses — sticky against his thigh, the musky scent filling the small room.

He sat up, breathing ragged, hand instinctively gripping his still-hard shaft through the wet fabric — one squeeze sending a shudder through him.
“Bad dream,” he told himself.

He was confused why off late he had been so turned on, sexually, his mood is too on, he is always horny, always getting horny erections.. He wanted to speak about this to Madhavan, after the transformation he is always horny.. he know this dreams are after math of incidents he saw or he suspect and chemical reactions.  

He knows Anandhi is not cheating and pure, thought its early he still needs to check more stay with her test her fidelity .. 
But Suriya’s words still gnawed.
“I take care of her.”

Doubt crept deeper.

Was it just a dream… or a glimpse of something already happening?
Eighty-seven days burned.

Soon he would test her.
Soon he would find out how real that mocking smile had been.
He decided to watch them more carefully, following Suriya going to be his top priority now. 

[heygiwriter]

Dream Sequence

[heygiwriter]

Hope the story is going good. 
A small break before next update.


Let me hear your guesses

1. Why did Anandhi hides the molestation by sam with Rahul 
2. Anandhi Consciously know she was kind of molested in Annual day why she didnt confront John & why she hides it again from Rahul
3. Rahul's doubt is genuine, he is practically out of reachable distance, like in Mumbai, A single women cannot be able to defend so many lechers like Sam John, how did she managed? does she has someone she relied on to stop them?
4. If so who could it be?
5. Do you think Anandhi would have cheated already? 
6. Why did Surya said "i take care of her"?
7. One Solid Guess where its leading to?

[robertnow]

This story reads like a thriller. I’m curious what do you actually do? Are you a full time writer? It honestly feels like something from another novel.

At first, I thought she was a cheater. But after the twist, I actually wanted to believe her. At the same time, the doubts he had were exactly what I was thinking too. I almost felt like I was Rahul/Jeeva while reading it.

You’re really good at capturing human thoughts and emotions. Well done.

[robertnow]

Hope the story is going good. 
A small break before next update.


Let me hear your guesses

1. Why did Anandhi hides the molestation by sam with Rahul 
2. Anandhi Consciously know she was kind of molested in Annual day why she didnt confront John & why she hides it again from Rahul
3. Rahul's doubt is genuine, he is practically out of reachable distance, like in Mumbai, A single women cannot be able to defend so many lechers like Sam John, how did she managed? does she has someone she relied on to stop them?
4. If so who could it be?
5. Do you think Anandhi would have cheated already? 
6. Why did Surya said "i take care of her"?
7. One Solid Guess where its leading to?

My guesses for 1 & 2 are practically the same. 
Maybe she feared their friendship or relationship could break, so she avoided telling Rahul.



3.At this moment, I feel there might be someone else like a secret lover. He might have taken care of those people who lusted after her.

4. Not sure who it could be. Could not see any hint of it. Maybe the politician who was kept in the dark in the earlier parts of the story. Surya’s chances seem less.

5.It’s 50–50. But given the intensity of things, it feels like she might have had some serious affair outside.

6.Surya might just be showing off.

7. My guess is that the story is going to unmask and unveil all the hidden secrets. Most probably, Rahul will catch her secret lover and punish her.


But I feel like you’re going to give us a twist and lead us somewhere completely different. I read your story title again, and now I’m confused all over again haha.

[heygiwriter]

Wow ! Such a fantastic read. Tightly written & highly entertaining. Can't wait to find out what is going to happen next. I have to say it .. You are a master story-weaver.

Thanks Brother

[heygiwriter]

This story reads like a thriller. I’m curious what do you actually do? Are you a full time writer? It honestly feels like something from another novel.

At first, I thought she was a cheater. But after the twist, I actually wanted to believe her. At the same time, the doubts he had were exactly what I was thinking too. I almost felt like I was Rahul/Jeeva while reading it.

You’re really good at capturing human thoughts and emotions. Well done.

Thanks Brother :)

[heygiwriter]

My guesses for 1 & 2 are practically the same. 
Maybe she feared their friendship or relationship could break, so she avoided telling Rahul.



3.At this moment, I feel there might be someone else like a secret lover. He might have taken care of those people who lusted after her.

4. Not sure who it could be. Could not see any hint of it. Maybe the politician who was kept in the dark in the earlier parts of the story. Surya’s chances seem less.

5.It’s 50–50. But given the intensity of things, it feels like she might have had some serious affair outside.

6.Surya might just be showing off.

7. My guess is that the story is going to unmask and unveil all the hidden secrets. Most probably, Rahul will catch her secret lover and punish her.


But I feel like you’re going to give us a twist and lead us somewhere completely different. I read your story title again, and now I’m confused all over again haha.

:) Im just curious to know what people would have been playing in their mind. It can help me meet the expectations :) and yours is interesting guess.

[Mukul@99]

1 & 2. Maybe it is the person she already thought that would make a move on her and she herself got carried away in that moment.
3. Maybe she just gave in a little (flirting) and stalled them, kept them hanging or waiting.
4. It could be one among the three friends.
5. Yes definitely.
6. The words have no sexual context to it. It is just the situation that it is persumed.
7. Anandhi is involved with not one but two men.
Apologies if my guesses are lame and irrelevant.
Eagerly waiting for the coming chapters.
Thank you.