Adultery The Butterfly

[Kedibillaa]

Will this story be continued??

[RANA ROY]

Awesome..... waiting for next

[gunwinny]

Is that all over?

[Maryam]

Who is the actual writer of this story?

[iCuby]

Great story.hope you had finished

[shivanikaur2]

Hi Everyone,

I read this and the original as well and will try to complete this story. Shall I post the completed part here or on a new thread?

[Anju angel]

Hi Everyone,

I read this and the original as well and will try to complete this story. Shall I post the completed part here or on a new thread?

New thread

[ray.rowdy]

Hi Everyone,

I read this and the original as well and will try to complete this story. Shall I post the completed part here or on a new thread?

In a new thread. With the acknowledgement and mention of the original writer and fan-fiction writer - both, if possible.

Eagerly looking forward to it.

[shivanikaur2]

Hi Everyone, 

Here is the final part of The Buttefly (https://xossipy.com/thread-29906.html)

-----------

The rest of Sunday was the longest stretch of time I have ever had to endure. I tried Shinde's number a few more times through the afternoon, but each time it went to voicemail. I considered going to his building but quickly talked myself out of it. Showing up there unannounced and demanding my wife back was not the kind of move that Shinde would take kindly to, and I had already felt what his slap could do. Tanya had long since left — I think she slipped out while I was still asleep that morning, leaving only a faint trace of her perfume on the pillow.

So I sat alone in our flat, with nothing but the hum of the ceiling fan and the noise of the street below to keep me company. I made myself chai, then let it go cold without drinking it. I tried to watch television but could not follow anything for more than a minute before my mind drifted back to the images from Friday night. Rekha on the bed with Darul. Rekha pulling Ibrahim closer. Rekha with my own boss between her thighs. And then Shinde's voice on the phone — “She is returning the favour that I did for you.”

What favour? What had Rekha agreed to do on a Sunday, with Rajan driving her? My mind came up with possibilities, and every single one of them was worse than the last.

By evening I had poured myself two large pegs of whiskey. By the time I fell asleep on the sofa around midnight, I had poured a third. It wasn't a good sleep. I kept waking up to check my phone, hoping to find a message from Rekha, finding nothing.

Chapter 12: Return

I was still on the sofa when I heard the front door open Monday evening. I had spent the day at the office in a kind of fog, going through motions, answering emails without really reading them. When I reached home at six, the flat was still empty and I had sat down with my phone, refreshing it obsessively until I heard the latch click.

Rekha came in quietly, shoes in hand, as if she were trying not to wake someone. When she saw me sitting there looking at her, she stopped for just a second before offering a small, careful smile.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I answered, and in that single syllable I tried to contain everything — the relief, the anger, the questions, and the fear of the answers.

She looked tired. Her hair was tied up loosely and she was wearing the same salwar kameez she had left in Friday morning, though the fabric was creased now in ways it had not been before. She set her bag down by the door and came towards me, stopping just close enough to put her hand briefly on my arm.

“Let me take a shower first. I'll come and sit with you after.”

I nodded. I could hear the water running for a long time after that.

By the time she came out, dressed in her old cotton kurta with her hair still damp, I was in the bedroom. She got into bed and pulled the sheet up to her shoulder without a word, her back to me. I sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Rekha,” I said softly.

“Hmm.”

“Where did you go? What happened?”

There was a pause that felt much longer than it was. Then she said, in a tired, even voice, “Sai, I am completely exhausted right now. Can we please talk tomorrow morning? I promise I am not running away from anything.”

I did not like it. But I also knew that pushing her right at that moment would give me nothing useful, only defensiveness and walls. I patted her arm once, the way you might pat a sleeping child, and went back to the living room.

I poured myself another drink and sat with it in the dark for a while. Somewhere in there I must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing I was aware of was the smell of coffee and the pale grey light of early morning coming through the curtains.

Chapter 13: The Morning After

I found Rekha in the kitchen. She was standing at the counter, still in her kurta, watching the kettle. She had already made filter coffee and poured a cup for me without being asked. That was so like her that it made my chest hurt in a way I hadn't expected.

“Good morning,” she said, and she looked at me with an expression that was composed but watchful, the way people look when they are bracing themselves.

“Good morning,” I replied. I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, both hands around the warm cup.

The silence stretched for almost a minute before I said, “Rekha, where did you go on Sunday? Shinde said you were running errands with Rajan.”

She looked down at the counter for a moment, then turned and sat across from me. She met my eyes, which I respected her for.

“I think it would be better if we didn't go into all of it right now. At least not this morning.”

“Rekha, that isn't fair and you know it,” I said.

“I know,” she said softly. “I'm asking you to give me a little time. That's all.”

Several more times I tried different approaches — asking what time she had come back, whether Rajan had been with her the whole time, whether she was okay. Each time she deflected with patience and a kind of deliberate calm that was, in its own way, more unsettling than anger would have been. Eventually I gave up pressing, and we sat together in silence, finishing our coffee.

Then, almost as an afterthought, I said, “Rekha, you know that Mr. Pereira was there on Friday night.”

Her expression shifted slightly — a small flicker of something — before she steadied herself. “Tanya told me. When exactly did you see him?”

“When Tanya and I were looking for you. He was in one of the rooms.” I watched her face carefully. “He was the one licking you when Shinde opened the door and showed me.”

For a moment she said nothing. Then: “I didn't recognise him. Not until Tanya told me later.” She paused. “What is going to happen now? With your job, I mean.”

“I don't know,” I said honestly. Then I thought about saying more — about what Shinde had told me on the phone, about how he had staged the whole encounter so that Pereira and I would find ourselves entangled in each other's secrets — but I held it back. “I really don't know.”

“Did we do the right thing?” she asked, after another silence.

“I don't know that either,” I said. “No. I mean — I don't know. It felt like one thing going in and it's something completely different coming out.”

She nodded slowly, staring into her cup.

“Are you okay?” I added.

“I feel guilty,” she said quietly.

I looked at her for a moment and then, before I could stop myself, I said, “Tanya told me you had a very strong orgasm. With Ibrahim.”

At first she gave me a sharp look, the kind that signals I have overstepped. Then she took a breath, let it out, and said simply, “Yes.”

“You seem to be very comfortable with him.”

“Don't do that, Sai,” she replied, and there was a warning in her voice. “You came inside Tanya without protection. She told me that herself.”

“I know. It wasn't smart.”

“It's obvious that you have feelings for her,” she said, and the accusation in her voice was quiet but unmistakable. “You followed her while I was still standing at the bar.”

“You had already gone with Shinde and Ibrahim by then,” I said, but even as the words left my mouth I knew they were a weak defence.

“And then you slept with her. Again.” She looked at me steadily. “Was it good?”

“Rekha, I'm not—“ I stopped myself. “This isn't what I want to be talking about.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?”

“I want to know what you did on Sunday. Where Rajan took you. What Shinde meant when he said you were returning the favour.”

Her eyes found mine and held them. I could see her wrestling with something — her lips parted twice as if she was about to speak, and both times she stopped. Finally she looked down at the table.

“It's not something you're going to like hearing,” she said.

“Tell me anyway. I need to know.”

She was quiet for another long moment. Then she said, in almost a whisper, “I did something for Shinde.”

“What kind of something?”

“Rajan took me somewhere on Sunday. There was a man.” She paused. “We were together.”

I felt the air go out of the room. Even though some part of me had known this was coming — had known it since Shinde said “returning the favour” — hearing it stated plainly was something else entirely.

“Did you have sex with him?” I asked, keeping my voice as level as I could.

She looked at me for a moment without answering. “I was there, and Tanya was there as well. The man watched us together at first.”

“And then?” I pressed.

“Sai, please—“

“And then, Rekha?”

A long silence. Then, barely audible: “And then it went further.”

I knew she was not telling me everything. But I also knew that forcing every detail out of her right then would only push her further away. So I swallowed what I wanted to say, stood up from the table, told her I had to get to the office, and left.

Chapter 14: What Tanya Knew

I sat at my desk for most of that day doing very little useful work. By three in the afternoon I could no longer stand the not-knowing, so I stepped outside, found a quiet spot in the building's back stairwell, and called Tanya.

She picked up on the fourth ring, her voice carrying that particular husky quality it always had in the afternoon.

“Hey,” she said.

“Tanya. I need to talk to you. Can we meet? Coffee or something.”

There was a pause. “Now? What's going on?”

“Rekha came back last night. I need to understand what happened on Sunday. She's not telling me everything.”

Another pause, shorter this time. “Okay. Give me an hour. There's a Café Coffee Day near the bus depot on MG Road. You know it?”

I did.

I was already seated in a corner booth when she arrived, looking completely unlike the Tanya I knew from Shinde's world. She was in jeans and a plain full-sleeved top, hair in a simple plait, face nearly bare of makeup. The naturalness suited her in a way that made me understand why Shinde found her useful beyond the obvious reasons — she could pass, when she chose to, as an ordinary woman who had nothing to do with any of this.

She sat down across from me and ordered a cold coffee without looking at the menu. I asked for nothing.

“So,” she said.

“So,” I said. “Tell me what happened on Sunday.”

She leaned back and looked at me, assessing. “What did she tell you?”

I repeated Rekha's version — the man, Tanya being present, watching, and then things going “further.”

Tanya's expression shifted into something between irritation and resignation. “That's a polite way of putting it,” she said flatly. “We were together for about five minutes, just touching, and then Ibrahim came in and she went with him.”

“Ibrahim?” I felt the word land somewhere central. “Why Ibrahim?”

“Because Shinde arranged it.” She picked up her coffee when it arrived and took a long sip. “Sai, Shinde has been talking about Rekha with Ibrahim for weeks. Ibrahim is interested in her. Not just as someone to use once. He has been asking Shinde about her since the second party at the penthouse.” She looked at me directly. “On Sunday, Rajan took her to Ibrahim's flat. Shinde's version of a favour.”

I stared at the table for a moment. “And money changed hands.”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“She took it.”

“She took it.”

“Jesus,” I said, more to myself than to her.

Tanya was quiet for a moment, then said, “I told you from the beginning, Sai. I told you Shinde would try to bring her into the fold. I told you she had more fire in her than you realised. You didn't want to believe it.”

“I know,” I said, because there was nothing else to say.

She let the silence sit for a while. Then, in a slightly different tone — quieter, less matter-of-fact — she said, “There's something else I should tell you.”

I looked up.

“That night at your flat. We didn't use protection.” She met my eyes steadily. “I think I might be pregnant.”

The words arrived in my head without immediately becoming real. I sat there, looking at her, trying to arrange my face into something appropriate.

“Are you sure?” I finally managed.

“Not completely. But I've been feeling things I don't usually feel. I'll know for certain in a few days.” She said it with remarkable composure, as if she had already decided how she felt about it and was simply informing me of a fact.

I took her hand across the table and held it. “Tanya—“

“Don't make it more than it is right now,” she said softly. “We'll know soon. Until then, just leave it.”

I nodded. We talked about nothing in particular for a while after that — she ate a sandwich, I managed half a cup of tea — and when we parted ways in front of the café I felt as though I had been handed more information than one afternoon could usefully contain.

As I drove away, I thought about the fact that I had now heard the words “I don't know” or “I was stupid” from Rekha, from Tanya, and from myself at various points in this whole story. None of us were stupid. We all knew, at some level, what we were doing and what it might cost. The problem was that the knowing had never once been enough to make any of us stop.

Chapter 15: Settling Accounts with Shinde

The following afternoon I drove to Crawford Road.

Shanta let me in with her usual look of indifferent appraisal, and I found Shinde in his office behind the large wooden desk. He looked exactly as he always did — heavy, unhurried, an untouched glass of beer on the table in front of him — as though our last conversation had been about nothing more consequential than the weather.

He gestured to the chair across from him. I sat, but I did not touch the beer that Shanta set before me.

“What the hell was that, Dada?” I said, and even though I had rehearsed a dozen different openings on the drive over, that was what came out. “What was the point of all of it? Everything you put me and Rekha through?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, but his expression told me he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“My wife. My boss. Sunday. All of it,” I said, fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice. “You set everything up. You put Pereira there deliberately. You arranged for Rekha to spend the weekend so that she would go to Ibrahim on Sunday. Why?”

He picked up his beer, drank slowly, and set it back down.

“Sai, I like you,” he said. “We have always gotten along well and you have always shown me respect. And because of that, I wanted to do something for you. You are a capable person in your field. You have been working hard for years to climb up in your company. Maybe you would have made it on your own eventually. But I fast-tracked things for you.”

“Fast-tracked,” I repeated, tasting the word.

“Pereira knows your secret and you know his,” Shinde said simply. “A man like Pereira does not threaten someone who has seen him in that position. He lifts them up instead. That is how these things work. You understand me?”

I understood him. I hated that I understood him, but I did.

“And my wife?” I pressed. “What exactly did you do for me there?”

Shinde set down his glass and looked at me with something that might have been warmth if it hadn't been sitting so comfortably alongside everything else he was.

“Your lovely Rekha,” he said. “That woman has fire in her, Sai. I saw it from the very first evening I met her. And each time she has shown more of it. I did not force her into anything — I never force my girls, you know this. I create conditions and I let them choose.” He spread his hands slightly. “On Sunday, she chose.”

“She chose because you put Rajan in front of her and Ibrahim on the other end,” I said.

“Maybe. But she still chose.” He paused. “Ibrahim is fond of her. He asked me about her before the last party and he asked me again that Sunday. He treats women well when they matter to him. He is not like Darul.”

“So you arranged it.”

“I introduced them properly,” he said, with a small smile at the corners of his thick lips. “And yes, I will call on her skills from time to time as well. She has more than earned her place in my little circle.”

The energy drained out of me. I had wanted to be angry — I had driven here intending to be angry, to demand something, to draw some kind of line. But sitting across from Shinde, I felt the futility of it the same way you feel the futility of arguing with a river about which direction it chooses to flow.

“It's over,” I said. “All of this. I am done.”

Shinde looked at me without any particular expression. “You told yourself it was over once before, Sai. And then you were at my penthouse the very next week.” He took another sip of beer. “Look at Pereira. He has been coming to my events for four years. He tells himself it is over every few months. And then he calls Rajan to ask about the next gathering.” He set the glass down. “I am not saying this to insult you. I am saying this so you understand your situation clearly. Which is this: you are now more deeply inside my circle than you were even last week. The people who are inside my circle tend to stay there.”

I had nothing to say to that. So I sat in the chair, not touching the beer, until I found the will to stand up and walk back out through the blue door and down the stairs to my car.

Chapter 16: The Corridor

I did not see Mr. Pereira for several days after that. I would catch myself tensing whenever I heard the elevator doors open on my floor, bracing for the encounter, and each time it turned out to be someone else. When it finally happened, it was on a Thursday morning in the corridor near the printer room — a brief, unexpected moment with no one else immediately around.

We made eye contact and I saw the quick calculation flash across his face before he steadied himself. He gave me a nod. I gave him one in return. Two men acknowledging a shared weight without putting words to it.

Less than an hour later his secretary called my extension and told me that Mr. Pereira had a few minutes free if I wanted to stop by.

His office door was closed behind me almost before I had finished stepping through it.

“Sai,” he said, from behind his large desk. He did not look out of the window this time. He looked at me directly, with the careful composure of someone who has decided that the only way through an uncomfortable thing is to walk straight at it. “It seems we find ourselves in a situation of shared knowledge.”

“It seems so, Sir,” I said carefully.

“I want you to know that what you may have observed will remain entirely private on my part. I would hope I can count on the same from you and your wife.”

“You can,” I said. “Neither of us has any interest in sharing anything.”

Something eased in his posture, though he continued to hold himself carefully upright. There was a silence that lasted almost a minute before he spoke again.

“You have now seen directly why our client wields the kind of influence he does in certain circles,” he said. “He has a remarkable ability to position himself at the centre of things.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. “I've noticed.”

He nodded once, slowly. Then he picked up a pen from his desk and glanced at a paper in front of him — a clear signal that the conversation was over. I stood and left.

Chapter 17: The Full Truth

On Friday evening I drove home with a feeling of tight anticipation that I had been carrying since Monday morning. All week I had kept what I knew to myself, maintaining a performance of normalcy that I was certain Rekha could see through but had chosen not to challenge. The time for that kind of performance was over.

She had been grocery shopping — I could see the bags on the kitchen counter when I walked in, and I could hear her moving in the bedroom. She appeared in the doorway a moment later, read my expression immediately, and said nothing.

“Can we sit down?” I said.

We took our places on the sofa. She folded her hands in her lap. I looked at her for a moment and then said, “I want us to be completely honest with each other. Before we say anything else, I want us to agree to that.”

She nodded slowly.

“I know you had sex with Ibrahim on Sunday,” I said. “Not just Tanya being there while someone watched. You had sex with him.”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. There was something almost like relief in the speed of her answer, as if the effort of holding it back had been costing her something she was glad to put down.

I looked at her for several seconds without speaking. Then I said, “Rekha. Why? I need to understand.”

She looked at her own hands for a moment. “In the moment it seemed like the situation just carried me along. I know that sounds like a weak explanation.”

“It sounds like the true one,” I said, and I was surprised to find I meant it.

She looked up. We regarded each other quietly.

“Are you Ibrahim's girlfriend now?” I asked. I tried to make it sound like a simple question and mostly succeeded.

Her body changed slightly — a small tension that began at the shoulders and worked its way through her — and I saw in her face not guilt exactly but something harder to name, something closer to the feeling of being seen doing something you weren't ready to be seen doing.

“Where did you hear that?” she said quietly.

“Shinde told me Ibrahim asked. He said you were eager to say yes.” I kept my voice level. “Have you seen Ibrahim since Sunday?”

A pause. “No,” she said, and held my gaze, and then took a careful breath and said, “Wednesday.”

“My God, Rekha.” The words came out before I could shape them. “My God. We are married. What are we even doing?”

What followed was not a neat conversation. It was an argument and a confession and an accounting all at once, voices rising and falling, old accusations and new ones tumbling together. She had nothing to say in defence of Wednesday, or of what had happened with Darul, or of the money she had accepted, and eventually the weight of that broke through her composure and she was crying.

I have never been able to watch Rekha cry. It has always undone me. So after a while I took her hand and held it and waited.

“Why, Rekha?” I said, when she had calmed a little. “Just tell me why.”

She shook her head once, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and then said, “It was exciting. I know how that sounds. I know it doesn't make it better. But we were both doing it, and I got carried away, and I didn't stop when I should have.”

I thought about Shinde's voice telling me that Rekha wasn't worried about the sex — she was worried about me. I thought about Tanya saying she had always known this was in Rekha somewhere. I thought about all the small moments where I had pushed a door open a little wider when I could have let it stay closed.

“Rekha,” I said, after a long silence. “What do you want?”

“I want to be your wife,” she said immediately, and the immediacy of it — no pause, no calculation — hit me somewhere unexpected.

So there I was. My wife crying quietly beside me, telling me clearly that our marriage was what mattered to her, while somewhere at the back of my head I could hear Shinde's satisfied voice telling me that putting the genie back in the bottle was a project I shouldn't count on completing.

“Did you have sex with Darul again?” I asked finally. “On Sunday. Was that the errand?”

She looked at me. “No,” she said. “It was only Ibrahim on Sunday.”

“He's the one you want,” I said softly. It wasn't quite an accusation. It was more like reading something aloud from a page.

She didn't deny it and she didn't confirm it. She just looked at me with her damp eyes.

“Did you know,” I said, after another silence, “that I came inside Tanya without protection.”

“She told me,” Rekha said. There was something sharp in her voice that had not been there before. “She may be pregnant.”

“I know,” I said.

We looked at each other for a long moment.

“I did,” she said then, in a voice so low it was barely a breath. Answering the question I hadn't quite finished asking about Darul. The admission that her earlier version of Sunday had been incomplete.

“I know,” I said again.

After that we sat in silence for a while. Eventually she got up and went to the bedroom. I did not follow her immediately. I sat with the darkness and the distant sounds from the street below and tried to work out what exactly had happened to us — not just on Friday night, not just over the past weeks, but at some earlier, quieter moment when a door had been left ajar that we could have, but did not, choose to close.

Epilogue: Six Months Later

Six months after that night, my firm announced my promotion to Associate Director. I was the second youngest person in the company's history to reach that grade. When Mr. Pereira called me into his office to deliver the news personally, he shook my hand with both of his and held the handshake a beat longer than was professionally necessary. I understood what was in that extra beat — not fear, not leverage, something more like the recognition of a kindred spirit. He said as much, in careful language, before I left the room.

I knew Shinde's hand was in it, as it had been in many things since that Friday night. Not through fear — Pereira was not a man who would let himself be coerced into a significant business decision. Rather, in the way that Shinde had always operated, by putting people together in rooms and letting the knowledge of shared secrets do its quiet, lasting work. I was not naive enough to feel entirely good about how I had arrived at this point. But I was honest enough with myself to acknowledge that I had arrived.

Shinde had not given up his existing operations despite everything he had said about transitioning to legitimacy. It had become something of a standing item on the agenda in conversations at the firm. But we had all rationalised ourselves into a comfortable position — we were only servicing the legitimate side of things, the investments, the property holdings, the structured entities, all of which were performing well and growing. The less comfortable parts, we had learned to leave outside the room.

Shinde's events continued. My involvement with him had, as he predicted, become something of a quiet credential in certain circles — a signal to people who understood what it meant that I was someone who could be trusted with the things that didn't get spoken about in offices.

Rekha and Ibrahim settled into an arrangement. He saw her twice a month — those were the terms that Rekha brought home one evening and laid on the table between us, looking at me steadily while she said it, waiting to see what I would do. What I did was pour us both a drink and sit with it for a while before I said, “Okay.” She did not thank me, which was right. There was nothing to thank me for. It was what it was.

The Tanya situation complicated things, as I had feared it would. Three weeks after our conversation at Café Coffee Day, she sent me a message that said only: “It's confirmed.” A month after that, another message: “It's gone. Don't worry.” When I called to ask what had happened, she said simply that she had taken care of it. Whether there had ever really been a pregnancy, or whether the miscarriage had been real or arranged, I was never sure. Rekha found out — I never discovered exactly how — and went very quiet for several days before informing me, in a voice from which all emotion had been carefully removed, that she was submitting to Ibrahim's request to see her more regularly than the twice-a-month arrangement, and that I had forfeited any standing to object.

She was right.

So I called Tanya.

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” I asked, sitting on our building's rooftop that evening, looking at the city.

“Something coastal. I want fish,” she said.

An hour later we were seated across from each other in a small restaurant by the waterfront that she had chosen, ordering from a menu she seemed to know well. Rekha was with Ibrahim. I was here. Shinde had told me once, back in those early days at Crawford Road, that he could smell which way things were going to go, and that I should not be surprised when they got there.

I had been surprised anyway. I suppose that is the thing about butterflies — you recognise the wings only after the crawling is already done.

[RCF]

I had forfeited any standing to object.

She was right.

Lol why did he lose any standing to object? If we can agree as couple agrees that everything that has happened is because of their penchant for adventures, Making Tanya pregnant is the least of the things that they worry about or need to even discuss. She is a bold and much better and mature as a person who took care of it with out troubling Sai, she knows he and she cannot keep the baby nor they have freedom to be the parents. 

Rekha has become a puppet in the game and sadly she deserves it...we can see Rekha taking Tanya's place while Tanya moving into Rekha and its not Sai's choosing, its Rekha's. Down the line after some years she will regret it big time but it will be too late. 

~RCF

[ray.rowdy]

Hi Everyone, 

Here is the final part of The Buttefly (https://xossipy.com/thread-29906.html)

-----------

The rest of Sunday was the longest stretch of time I have ever had to endure.... 

I had been surprised anyway. I suppose that is the thing about butterflies — you recognise the wings only after the crawling is already done.

Shivani, you are an excellent writer. You have maintained the nuance and carried it so gracefully, it never felt like the final episodes were not written by the thread initiator. Hats Off to You.

[shivanikaur2]

Lol why did he lose any standing to object? If we can agree as couple agrees that everything that has happened is because of their penchant for adventures, Making Tanya pregnant is the least of the things that they worry about or need to even discuss. She is a bold and much better and mature as a person who took care of it with out troubling Sai, she knows he and she cannot keep the baby nor they have freedom to be the parents. 

Rekha has become a puppet in the game and sadly she deserves it...we can see Rekha taking Tanya's place while Tanya moving into Rekha and its not Sai's choosing, its Rekha's. Down the line after some years she will regret it big time but it will be too late. 

~RCF

Hi, I wish I could explain, but this story is an Indian used version of another story and the original writer made it as such.
I have just tried to complete it keeping true to the original

[RCF]

Hi, I wish I could explain, but this story is an Indian used version of another story and the original writer made it as such.
I have just tried to complete it keeping true to the original

Understood and you are doing an amazing job. Have not seen any writer here who could pick any story and flawlessly execute the next chapters to perfection. Thanks for finishing lot of pending stories. 

I request you to pick Dhika's story and Facilitator story. 

~RCF

[Paty@123]

Castles ruined