Bought by Love, Trapped by Hunger

[zeus90]

Chapter 8: The Vitamin Bottle



Arvind was on the phone before breakfast.

The house was still quiet. The servants had not arrived. Billa was somewhere near the back garden, sweeping leaves that did not need sweeping.

Arvind stood near the study window, one hand in his pocket, voice low.

“Haan, woh flibanserin wali table 300 wali mutivitamin ke pack me  bhej dena.”
[Yes, send that bottle.]

The voice on the other side laughed.

“Phir se? Is baar kaun hai?”
[Again? Who is it this time?]

Arvind’s face did not change.

“Zyada sawaal mat pooch.”
[Don’t ask too many questions.]

“Last time bhi tumne bola tha bas flibanserin hain.”
[Last time also you said they were just flibanserin .]

Arvind looked toward the kitchen door.

Simran had not come in yet.

“Is baar bhi wahi samajh lo.”
[Consider it the same this time too.]

The man on the phone went quiet for a second.

“Careful rehna, Arvind. Aaj kal log seedha security officer pahunch jaate hain.”
[Be careful, Arvind. These days people go straight to the security officer.]

Arvind smiled faintly.

“security officer tab aati hai jab koi samajhta hai ki uske saath kuch galat hua hai.”
[security officer come when someone understands that something wrong happened to them.]

He paused.

“Yahan sab help ke naam pe hoga.”
[Here everything will happen in the name of help.]

The man laughed again, but this time softer.

“Bottle shaam tak pahunch jayegi.”
[The bottle will arrive by evening.]

Arvind cut the call.

For a moment, the room stayed still.

Then he placed the phone on the desk and looked at his own reflection in the glass.

There was no guilt in his face.

Only planning.

A House Without Rest

Simran’s day began before sunrise now.

At five, she woke up in the outside room while the sky was still grey. Ravi was usually returning from the farm around that time, tired and silent, his clothes smelling of milk cans and damp night air.

She made tea for him first.

Then food for both of them.

Simple food.

Roti.

Sabzi.

Sometimes rice.

Sometimes leftover dal stretched with water because groceries had to last.

After that, she changed quickly and went to the main house.

Arvind’s tea.

Breakfast.

Kitchen cleaning.

Lunch preparation.

Laundry.

Floor.

Dishes.

Study tea.

Evening snacks.

Dinner.

Then after dinner, the extra work.

Massage.

By the time she returned to the outside room, it was usually eleven.

Sometimes midnight.

Then she had to prepare something for herself and Ravi for the next day.

Sleep came late.

Morning came early.

Her body had begun to move like a tired machine.

One morning, while cutting onions, the knife slipped from her hand.

It clattered on the counter.

Simran froze.

Arvind, sitting at the dining table, looked up.

“You okay?”

“Ji sir.”
[Yes sir.]

She picked up the knife quickly.

But her fingers were slow.

Her shoulders were bent.

Her eyes looked dull, like someone had dimmed the lamp inside her.

Arvind watched carefully.

This was the state he had wanted.

Not broken enough to run.

Tired enough to accept.

Ravi Tries, Then Falls

Ravi had promised to stop drinking.

For two days, he did.

On the third day, he returned from the farm with anger sitting on his face.

Simran was kneading dough in the outside room.

“You ate?” she asked.

Ravi dropped his bag.

“Pehle sawaal mat kiya karo.”
[Don’t start with questions.]

Simran stopped.

“I only asked if you ate.”

“Tumhara tone hi aisa hota hai.”
[Your tone is always like that.]

She stared at him.

“My tone?”

Ravi rubbed his eyes.

“Chhodo.”
[Leave it.]

Then she smelled it.

Faint.

But there.

Alcohol.

Her face fell.

“Phir pee li?”
[You drank again?]

Ravi looked away.

“Thodi si.”
[A little.]

Simran laughed once.

Sharp.

Empty.

“Thodi si se ghar barbaad ho raha hai.”
[A little is ruining the house.]

Ravi’s face hardened.

“Main jaan tod ke kaam karta hoon.”
[I work myself to death.]

“Aur main kya kar rahi hoon?”
[And what am I doing?]

“Tum toh ghar mein ho.”
[You are inside the house.]

That sentence cut her.

Inside the house.

As if walls made work easier.

As if heat, hunger, shame, fear, and tired bones did not exist under a roof.

She wiped flour from her hands.

“Ravi, tumhe pata bhi hai main kab soti hoon?”
[Ravi, do you even know when I sleep?]

He said nothing.

“Subah paanch baje uthti hoon. Tumhare liye chai. Tumhare liye khana. Phir main house. Phir raat tak kaam. Phir dinner. Phir extra kaam. Phir wapas aake tumhare liye khana. Main insaan hoon ya machine?”
[I wake up at five. Tea for you. Food for you. Then the main house. Then work until night. Then dinner. Then extra work. Then I come back and make food for you. Am I a human being or a machine?]

Ravi’s anger flickered.

For a moment, he looked ashamed.

But shame in him never stayed long. It always turned into defense.

“Extra kaam kisne bola karne ko?”
[Who told you to do extra work?]

Simran’s eyes sharpened.

“Paise chahiye na? Rent chahiye na? Ration chahiye na?”
[We need money, right? Rent, right? Groceries, right?]

Ravi looked at the floor.

The fight ended not because it was solved.

Because both were too tired to continue.

Ravi lay down and turned his face to the wall.

Simran finished the dough alone.

Her hands moved.

Her heart did not.

Peace In Work

After fights with Ravi, Simran began to feel strange relief when she entered the main house.

That frightened her.

The main house was the trap.

She knew that somewhere.

But it was also where nobody shouted at her in the morning.

Where her work was noticed.

Where Arvind said, “You look tired,” instead of “You don’t understand.”

Where a glass of water appeared without argument.

Where her pain had a listener.

Sometimes, while washing cups, she caught herself waiting for Arvind’s voice.

“Simran.”

Just her name.

Spoken softly.

Not angrily.

Not carelessly.

Softly.

And that softness became dangerous because it arrived exactly where Ravi had left bruises, both visible and invisible.

The Bottle Arrives

One evening, a small parcel came to the gate.

Billa brought it inside and handed it to Arvind in the study.

 
“Sir, packet.”
[Sir, packet.]

Arvind opened it after Billa left.

Inside was a mutivitamin for women bottle.


Daily Support Tablets

Arvind held it in his hand for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

Not because the bottle had power.

Because Simran trusted him enough to take it.

The next morning, he waited until she dropped a cup near the sink.

The cup did not break, but the sound made her flinch.

Arvind entered the kitchen.

“Simran.”

“Ji sir?”
[Yes sir?]

“You are very tired.”

She wiped her hands quickly.

“Thoda.”
[A little.]

“Thoda nahi. Bahut.”
[Not a little. A lot.]

She gave a weak smile.

“Kaam zyada ho gaya hai.”
[Work has become too much.]

Arvind placed the bottle on the counter.

“Take these.”



Simran looked at it.

“Kya hai?”
[What is it?]

“Multivitamin. Energy support. Keep it in the kitchen. Roz ek lena. You’ll feel better.”
[Multivitamin. Energy support. Keep it in the kitchen. Take one daily. You’ll feel better.]

She touched the bottle hesitantly.

“Sir, zarurat nahi…”
[Sir, there is no need…]

“Zarurat hai,” Arvind said gently. “You are overworking. Body ko support chahiye.”
[There is a need. You are overworking. The body needs support.]

The words sounded caring.

Simple.

Normal.

No pressure.

Just help.

Simran’s eyes softened.

“You think of everything, sir.”

Arvind looked away, as if embarrassed by the praise.

“Bas. Take care of yourself.”

Simran held the bottle with both hands.

“Thank you.”

She kept it near the spice shelf.

Beside turmeric.

Beside salt.

Beside things that belonged in daily life.

That was how danger entered the kitchen.

Not hidden in darkness.

Placed openly beside the haldi.

Seven Days

For seven days, Simran took the tablet every morning.

She did it because Arvind had said it would help.

Because she was exhausted.

Because she wanted to believe someone cared if she collapsed.

The first day, nothing changed.

The second day, she thought maybe her body felt slightly warmer, but Delhi summer was already cruel.

The third day, she finished work faster, but her mind start thinking about sexual thing more but she did not have any one to satistfied her as werk and timing of ravi.

The fourth day, during the evening massage, she found herself talking more than usual.


About how she had once believed love meant someone would always stand beside you.

Arvind listened.

Always listened.

He did not interrupt.

He did not laugh.

He did not tell her she was overthinking.

Then Arvind is laying and her saxual desire at peek but some how she control it.
By the sixth day, Simran noticed she despratly need some help with her bodies sexual needs but she cant do anything.


A strange ache in her chest when she was alone.

A need for closeness, not necessarily with anyone, but from somewhere. A need to be held without being blamed. A need to be wanted without begging for it.

She hated herself for it.

She tried to go near Ravi once.

He was asleep.

Another time, he was angry.

Another time, he smelled faintly of alcohol again.

Every door she tried with Ravi either closed or hurt her fingers.

Then Arvind would call.

“Simran, tea?”

“Simran, are you okay?”

“Simran, don’t work so hard.”

Her name sounded different in his mouth now.

Or maybe she had begun hearing it differently.

No Time For Marriage

Simran and Ravi had not been close for weeks.

Not properly.

Not like husband and wife.

At first, it was because of fights.

Then because of Ravi’s night shift.

Then because of tiredness.

Then because of anger.

Then because whenever they almost found a moment, the house swallowed it.

A call from Billa.

A bell from Arvind.

A guest.

A chore.

A missing book.

A dirty tray.

A floor that needed cleaning.

Their marriage had become a room with too many locked doors.

One night, Ravi returned slightly early.

Simran was sitting on the bed, rubbing her temples.

He entered quietly.

“You okay?”

She looked up.

“Headache.”

He sat beside her.

For once, he did not speak harshly.

He placed his hand near hers.

“Simran…”

She looked at his hand.

A part of her wanted to take it.

A part of her was too tired to forgive again.

Before she could decide, Billa knocked outside.

“Madam ji, Arvind sir bula rahe. Unko back pain ho raha.”
[Madam, Arvind sir is calling. His back is hurting.]

Ravi’s fingers closed into a fist.

“Abhi?”
[Now?]

Simran stood slowly.

“Extra work hai.”
[It is extra work.]

Ravi looked at her.

“Har waqt?”
[All the time?]

She turned.

“Paise chahiye, Ravi.”
[We need money, Ravi.]

Then she left.

Ravi stayed sitting on the bed.

This time, he did not shout.

That almost made it worse.

The Open Door



In Arvind’s room, the lamp was already on.

The oil bottle was on the side table.

The towel was folded.

Everything ready.

Too ready.

Simran entered and stopped near the door.

“Pain zyada hai?”
[Is the pain too much?]

Arvind turned from the window.

“Thoda. But if you are tired, leave it.”

He always said that.

Leave it.

No pressure.

You can go.

And every time, the words made her stay.

She stepped inside.

“I’ll do it.”

Arvind lay down.

Simran poured oil into her hands.

Her movements were no longer stiff.

They had become practiced.

Familiar.

That frightened her only when she thought about it.

So she stopped thinking.

After some time, Arvind said:

“You are quiet today.”

“Headache hai.”
[I have a headache.]

“Then why did you come?”

She paused.

“Kaam hai.”
[It is work.]

“Only work?”

Her hands stopped.

The room went still.

Outside, a fan hummed.

Inside, her heart climbed into her throat.

“Sir…”

Arvind’s voice stayed soft.

“I’m only asking.”

She did not answer.

He did not push.

That was how he pushed.

By not pushing.

Simran continued the massage, but her mind was no longer on pressure points or video lessons.

It was on the question.

Only work?

She wanted the answer to be yes.

She needed the answer to be yes.

But silence had already answered something else.

The Slow Change

The days after that became harder to understand.

Simran still worked.

Still cooked.

Still cleaned.

Still took the tablet every morning because Arvind said it would help.

Still fought with Ravi.

Still waited for him to become the man he had promised to be.

But her thoughts began turning toward Arvind more often.

Not cleanly.

Not happily.

With guilt.

With fear.

With curiosity.

With anger at herself.

He had not shouted at her.

He had not raised a hand.

He had not laughed at her pain.

He had given her money when she needed it.

He had given her a way to call her mother.

He had noticed her tiredness.

He had said she deserved peace.

And Ravi?

Ravi had loved her once.

Maybe still did.

But love that arrived drunk, late, tired, and defensive did not feel like shelter anymore.

It felt like another storm.

One afternoon, Simran stood alone in the kitchen, holding the vitamin bottle. and took 1 tablet

for her its hard and sexcual thourgh come in her mind all time and she cant stop thinking about it.

She think it must be she have not had sex in weeks and suddenly she is feeling so much and think about sexual thourghs all time.



(we will find out how she get relif from this in next part. it will be in few days big part it will be worth of your wait stay tune for more updates )

[zeus90]

Chapter 9: The Power Cut

Arvind woke before the house did.

The sky outside was still pale. Delhi had not fully opened its eyes yet, but heat was already sitting in the air, waiting for the day to begin.

He stood near the study window with his phone against his ear.

“Ravi ko aaj jaldi bula lena,” he said quietly.
*[Call Ravi early today.]*

The voice on the other side was plain.

“Kitna jaldi?”
*[How early?]*

“Shaam se pehle. Aur subah tak busy rakhna. Extra loading, checking, jo bhi reason banana ho bana lo.”
*[Before evening. And keep him busy until morning. Extra loading, checking, whatever reason you need, make it.]*

“Ho jayega.”
*[It will be done.]*

“No confusion,” Arvind said.

“Done.”

The call ended.

Arvind placed the phone on the desk and looked toward the back side of the house.

The outside room was still quiet.

Ravi would leave early.

Simran would stay.

And the house would become smaller around her.

A few minutes later, he called Billa.

Billa came through the side corridor, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Sir?”

Arvind shut the study door.

He spoke low.

Billa listened.

At first, his face was dull.

Then his eyes lit up.

A grin began spreading across his mouth.

“Samajh gaya, sir.”
*[I understand, sir.]*

Arvind opened the drawer and took out a small object, wrapped in an old cloth. He placed it in Billa’s hand.

“Careful. It should look natural.”

Billa weighed it in his palm.

“Power cut jaisa?”
*[Like a power cut?]*

“Exactly.”

“Kitne baje?”
*[What time?]*

“Eleven.”

“Wapas?”

“After five.”

Billa’s grin grew wider.

“Garmi mein kitchen jal jayega.”
*[In this heat, the kitchen will burn.]*

Arvind’s eyes became cold.

“Kitchen nahi. Patience.”

Billa nodded quickly.

“Ho jayega, sir.”

Arvind stepped closer.

“No noise. No mistake. Aur Simran ko kuch pata nahi chalna chahiye.”
*[No noise. No mistake. And Simran must not know anything.]*

Billa tucked the object into his pocket.

“Usko kuch pata nahi chalega.”

When Billa left, Arvind stood alone for a moment.

The plan was simple.

Simple plans were best.

Heat tired the body.

Tired bodies accepted help.

And help, in Arvind’s house, always came with a hidden price.

---

## Morning Work

Ravi left earlier than usual.

The farm had called him before lunch.

“Extra loading hai,” he told Simran while tying his shoelaces.
*[There is extra loading.]*

Simran looked surprised.

“Aaj itni jaldi?”
*[So early today?]*

“Haan. Bol rahe subah tak kaam rahega.”
*[Yes. They said work will continue until morning.]*

She frowned.

“Khaya bhi nahi tumne properly.”
*[You didn’t even eat properly.]*

“I’ll eat there.”

She packed two rotis quickly, wrapped them in cloth, and placed them in his bag.

Ravi watched her for a second.

“Thank you.”

Simran nodded.

He stood near the door, as if he wanted to say something more.

Maybe about yesterday.

Maybe about trying again.

Maybe about not drinking.

But the moment was thin, and Ravi was never good at holding thin things.

He picked up the bag.

“I’ll go.”

Simran watched him leave.

The garden swallowed him like always.

She stood there for a few seconds, then turned back toward the main house.

Work was waiting.

Work was always waiting.

---

## Eleven O’Clock

By eleven, the kitchen had become a furnace.

The summer sun pressed against the walls. The flame under the pan made the air thicker. Simran had tied her hair up, but loose strands stuck to her neck.

She was cutting onions when the fan stopped.

Then the fridge went quiet.

Then the small light above the counter blinked once and died.

Simran looked up.

“Light chali gayi?” she murmured.
*[Power went out?]*

From the corridor, Billa’s voice came casually.

“Lagta hai poore area ka cut hai, madam ji.”
*[Looks like the whole area has a power cut, madam.]*

She came to the doorway.

“Generator?”
*[Generator?]*

Billa shrugged.

“Sir ne bola tha last week mechanic ko dikhana hai. Abhi chal nahi raha.”
*[Sir said last week it needed a mechanic. It is not working right now.]*

Simran wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist.

“Kitchen mein bahut garmi ho rahi hai.”
*[It is very hot in the kitchen.]*

“Garmi toh sabko lag rahi hai,” Billa said, smiling too softly.
*[Everyone is feeling hot.]*

She did not like his smile.

But she had dal on the stove.

Rice to wash.

Vegetables to cut.

Lunch to prepare.

So she went back in.

The heat grew heavier.

By noon, her back was damp. Her hands slipped on the steel plates. The thin cloth of her suit clung uncomfortably to her skin. She kept adjusting her dupatta, then stopped, then adjusted it again when Billa passed near the back corridor.

At one, she served Arvind lunch.

He sat in the dining room with a hand fan, looking mildly inconvenienced.

“Power still gone?” he asked.

“Ji sir.”
*[Yes sir.]*

“Too hot?”

“Bahut.”
*[Very.]*


He looked at her face. Sweat ran near her temple. Her eyes looked tired already.

“You should drink water.”

“Ji.”

“Add salt and lemon. Heat mein weakness ho jaati hai.”
*[Add salt and lemon. In heat, weakness happens.]*

His concern sounded clean.

That was the cruelty of it.

Simran nodded and went back to the kitchen.

Arvind watched her leave.

The day was working exactly as planned.

---

## The Long Afternoon

The power stayed gone.

Eleven became twelve.

Twelve became two.

Two became four.

The house turned slow and thick, like everything was melting but refusing to fall.

Simran’s clothes were damp by the time she finished washing the lunch dishes. Her arms felt weak. Her head throbbed lightly. Every task took twice as much effort.

Billa came twice to “check” the back corridor.

Once, he asked:

“Madam ji, paani chahiye?”
*[Madam, do you need water?]*

She refused.

The second time, he said:

“Sir ka evening tea time ho raha.”
*[Sir’s evening tea time is coming.]*

She wanted to say, Then make it yourself.

Instead, she said:

“Bana rahi hoon.”
*[I am making it.]*

At exactly five-twenty, the fan coughed once.

Then began turning.

The fridge hummed.

The kitchen light flickered back to life.

Simran looked up, exhausted.

“Finally,” she whispered.

Near the side corridor, Billa slipped something back into his pocket and walked away whistling.

---

## After Dinner

By dinner time, Simran looked worn out.

Not just tired.

Wrung.

She served Arvind quietly, then stood aside.

“Sit for a minute,” Arvind said.

She looked surprised.

“Sir?”

“You look like you will fall.”

“Nahi sir. Main theek hoon.”
*[No sir. I am fine.]*

“Today was too hot. Power cut made things worse.”

She gave a weak laugh.

“Kitchen toh aag ban gaya tha.”
*[The kitchen became fire.]*

“I can see that.”

She lowered her eyes, suddenly aware of how tired and uncomfortable she looked.

Arvind’s voice became gentle.

“After dinner, change before massage. You are already soaked from the heat. Fresh suit pehen lo. You’ll feel better.”
*[After dinner, change before massage. You are already soaked from the heat. Wear a fresh suit. You’ll feel better.]*

Simran hesitated.

Then nodded.

“Ji sir.”
*[Yes sir.]*

The suggestion sounded practical.

Normal.

Almost kind.

That was how Arvind placed every stone in the path.

One by one.

Flat enough to walk on.

Sharp enough to cut later.

---

## Fresh Clothes

Simran went to the outside room.

Ravi was not there.

Of course he was not there.

His bag was gone. His blanket was folded badly near the wall. The room was warm and quiet.

She washed her face at the small tap. The water was not cold, but it still felt better than the kitchen air. She changed into another suit and sat on the bed for a moment, breathing slowly.

Her body felt heavy.

Her mind felt softer than it should have.

Too tired to think sharply.

She looked at the oil bottle on the shelf.

For a second, she wished she could sleep instead.

Then she remembered the extra money.

The rent.

The groceries.

Ravi’s promises.

Arvind’s voice.

No pressure.

You can go.

She picked up the oil bottle.

“Bas ek ghanta,” she whispered.
*[Only one hour.]*

Then she walked back toward the main house.

---

## The Doorway

Arvind’s bedroom door was half open.

A warm lamp glowed inside.

Simran stood outside and knocked softly.

“Sir?”

“Come in.”

She stepped inside with the oil bottle in her hand.

Arvind stood near the bed, a towel folded beside him, his kurta removed and replaced with a plain undershirt and loose shorts.

Not improper enough to accuse.

Not formal enough to feel safe.

Simran’s hand tightened around the bottle.

Arvind noticed.

“Back pain is lower today,” he said calmly. “Legs also. Long sitting.”

Simran did not answer immediately.

The air in the room felt different.

Maybe because she was tired.

Maybe because the day had softened her guard.

Maybe because Arvind had planned every part of it.

He looked at her with that same gentle patience.

“If you are uncomfortable, leave it. No problem.”

There it was again.

The open door.

The clean escape.

The choice that never felt like a choice.

Simran looked down at the oil bottle.

Then at the towel.

Then at the floor.

Outside, the house was quiet.

Ravi was far away at the farm.

Billa was somewhere in the shadows, probably watching the corridor.

Inside, Arvind waited.

Simran swallowed.

“Main try kar leti hoon.”
*[I will try.]*

Arvind gave a small nod.

“Good.”

He turned toward the bed.

Simran stood near the doorway for one more second, feeling the heat of the day still trapped inside her bones.

Then she stepped fully into the room.

Behind her, the door remained open.

For now.






During the afternoon, while Simran was trapped in the hot kitchen, Billa slipped toward the outside room.

The power was still gone.

The fan was dead.

The corridor was empty.

He moved quietly, one eye on the garden path, one eye on the main house window.

The outside room door was not locked.

Simran had left in a hurry that morning.

Billa pushed the door open with two fingers.

Inside, the room was small and warm. Ravi’s blanket lay folded near the wall. Simran’s clothes were hanging on the rope near the cupboard. One white suit was folded on the bed, ready for later.

Billa smiled.

“Madam ji ka evening dress,” he whispered.

He pulled a small packet from his pocket.

Not a medicine.

Not something with a name.

Just a dirty trick wrapped in paper.

He opened it carefully and sprinkled a little fine powder near the folded suit. Some settled on the fabric like dust. Some fell onto the bedsheet.

Then he heard footsteps outside.

Billa froze.

For one second, even his breath stopped.

The footsteps passed.

Only a servant crossing the back lane.

Billa quickly folded the suit again, badly, then slipped out and shut the door.

But he did not notice one thing.

The powder had left a faint white line on the edge of the white fabric.

Small.

Almost invisible.

he apply under bra and panty as well. this power was for irritate skin and let body rub to reduce irritation

she wear that pink suit with black bra and in massage time she already high on thinking sexual and now she just wear that and start massage and today arvind was looking at her eyes and she noticed as well.

Today arvind look was like a lover look at his love and she losing control as irritation start she keep robing her arms and them she is rubing her back and strong irritation she fell on boobs.

Then arvind start talking to her. she was distracted by irritation then as she rubbing her body she is getting out of control sexual feel as arvind laying in from of her and almost naked.

after some time arvind asked whats wrong and then she said some body irrtation happing then arvind said you must have allarge take a bath go use my bathroom then she as red as she was rubbing body from almost.

she went to talk bath then while bath she cant control she feeling and start fingering and arvind herad noice and he take towel and went to bathroom its dont have lock as it was slide door with no lock and

she was busy in fingering and he see her first time full nude and she noticed arvind that time she said nothing .

arvind went to her and told her let me help you. she huged him and arvind told her let me help you properly.

Then he wash her and kiss her and grab her boobs and she did not said a word and later with towel both dry then in room went.

then arvind was so hard that simran look at his dick and surprised to see a good size.

Arvind told her to bend over she did and then love miking get started and it last long time and she was su hungry for sex she did not think for a sec that she is doing anything wrong or right.

after one session arvind ask her to suck dick she said she never did this.

arvind told her then you have not seen real sex yet and its always first time for everything she then aggred and arvind took control of her head as soon she took in mouth and

arvind hold her head and head in his hand and give her a push and she was unable to take at first but arvind know if she take out she will not do it so he did not let her out

and in out he control and after few mins she get used to it and then he is about to cum and he hold her head tight and while cum in her mouth he did not leave hear head

and he make sure she drink her cum all the way when he reliease her head she was bit angry but arvind said first few times it will look wierd but then you will enjoy and then

he make few more sessions that night and at 3 am she was totaly out of enorgy and arvind told her go to room also told come to work later around 9  and he will buy you few

more suits. she was happy as her sexual desire find a way to get satisfied and she went to sleep well today. that was an opening for her to a new world which look good for

now but it will take no time to turn world up side down.




she had best sleep of her life today and that change everything for her in that one night.

[Hotgiri]

Nice update, request you to please describe sex session in detail with Simran moaning sounds n also add relevant pics like doing blowjob pressing boobs n all. This will spice up reader experience

[Pvzro]

The update seems to  be erotic and very much interesting

I feel that u have described every bit on a emotional note  and the desire concepts,the same way request u to to bring more sex episodes and intense one ,this was missed looked like the sex sessions was missed in the story and looked short 

Make it erotic sex session , according to me the  u paced up a bit once simran was inside the bathroom this could have done in a slow pace could have been better 

Just a suggestion 
Hope u got my point as a reader 

Thank u for a great update

[Pvzro]

Also to add let arvind also admire her body nicely each and every part starting from her pussy ,boobs ,navel body structure arms,armpits let her feel sexy 

This would add more spice

[Pvzro]

What happened to story no update since last 3 days

[opendoor]

Simran

[zeus90]

# Chapter 11: The Morning After

Morning came with the smell of leftover smoke, spilled alcohol, cold chicken, and dirty glasses.

The house looked rich from outside.

Inside, it looked used.

The drawing room table was still covered with plates. Half-eaten pieces of chicken sat beside lemon wedges. Empty glasses stood in small groups like tired men after a party. Napkins were crushed on the floor. One cushion had fallen near the sofa. The guest rooms needed cleaning. The kitchen sink was full.

Simran woke early, but her body did not want to move.

Her feet still hurt from yesterday.

Her shoulders still felt heavy.

But inside her palm, folded under the edge of her pillow, were the notes from last night.

Money.

Extra money.

Earned money.

At least that was what she told herself.

She sat up slowly and looked toward Ravi’s empty side of the bed.

He had not returned yet.

The farm had kept him late again.

Or maybe life had.

Simran washed her face, changed, tied her hair, and went toward the main house.

The morning felt different.

Not peaceful.

Not dangerous either.

Something in between.

Like a road covered in fog.

---

## Men After Drinking

In the guest room near the front corridor, Rajeev was awake before the others.

He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead.

Mahesh stood near the window, buttoning his shirt. His face looked tired, but his eyes were clear.

Rajeev gave a low laugh.

“Arvind has found a perfect one.”

Mahesh looked at him.

“Perfect for what?”

Rajeev smirked.

“For housework. For night work. For making this dead house feel alive.”

Mahesh’s face tightened slightly.

“Talk properly.”

Rajeev ignored him.

“Her hands…” He stopped and laughed under his breath. “Last night, during massage, I understood why Arvind’s back pain disappeared.”

Mahesh turned away.

“You drank too much.”

“I drank enough to be honest.”

Mahesh lowered his voice.

“Careful. She is not one of your club jokes.”

Rajeev laughed.

“You controlled yourself too much, Mahesh ji. I saw your face after your massage.”

Mahesh’s expression hardened.

“I controlled myself because I know the line.”

Rajeev leaned back on the bed.

“Line? In Arvind’s house, lines move.”

The door opened quietly.

Arvind entered without knocking.

Both men became silent.

Arvind looked at Rajeev first.

“Still drunk?”

Rajeev smiled.

“Not drunk. Inspired.”

Arvind’s face did not change.

Mahesh adjusted his cuff.

“Morning, Arvind.”

Arvind closed the door behind him.

Rajeev pointed toward the corridor with his chin.

“She is useful. Very useful.”

Arvind’s eyes turned cold.

“Speak less.”

Rajeev raised both hands.

“Fine. But don’t act like a saint. You know what you are doing.”

Mahesh looked at Arvind carefully.

“What are you doing?”

Arvind walked to the table and picked up his watch.

“Managing the house.”

Rajeev laughed.

“Managing? You always call it management.”

Arvind turned.

His voice was quiet.

“That is because fools call everything desire. Smart men call it timing.”

Rajeev’s smile faded a little.

Mahesh said nothing.

Rajeev leaned forward.

“So what is the timing? You keep her close, make her trust you, then what? Keep the fruit locked in your own basket?”

Arvind looked at him slowly.

“Fruit is not eaten before it ripens.”

Rajeev grinned.

“And when it does?”

Arvind’s smile was thin.

“Jab tarbuj katega, sab ko hissa milega.”
*[When the watermelon is cut, everyone will get a share.]*

Mahesh’s face darkened.

“That is an ugly thing to say.”

Arvind looked at him.

“Then don’t listen.”

Rajeev chuckled, but even he felt the coldness in Arvind’s voice.

Outside the room, footsteps passed in the corridor.

Simran.

All three men fell silent.

Arvind opened the door and stepped out with his usual calm face.

The mask returned perfectly.

---

## Breakfast Tips

Simran served breakfast quietly.

Parathas.

Curd.

Pickle.

Tea.

She kept the plates in front of Rajeev and Mahesh. Both looked fresher now, dressed and ready to leave.

Rajeev smiled at her.

“Simran ji, kal raat ka massage kamaal tha. Shoulder light ho gaya.”
*[Simran, last night’s massage was amazing. My shoulder feels light.]*

Simran smiled politely.

“Good, sir.”

Mahesh placed his cup down.

“Thank you. Your work helped. You should not overwork yourself though.”

His tone was more respectful.

Simran noticed the difference.

Rajeev pulled out a five hundred rupee note and placed it near her tray.

“For massage.”

Simran hesitated.

Then Mahesh also placed five hundred beside it.

“For your time.”

Simran looked toward Arvind.

She did it automatically.

Not with words.

Only eyes.

Arvind gave a small nod.

Take it.

Simran accepted the money with both hands.

“Thank you, sir.”

Rajeev smiled wider.

“Sweet girl.”

Mahesh looked at Rajeev sharply, but Rajeev only laughed and sipped tea.

Simran felt awkward, but the money softened it.

One thousand rupees.

One thousand meant vegetables.

Dal.

Maybe oil.

Maybe phone balance.

Maybe a small breath.

After breakfast, Rajeev and Mahesh left.

Rajeev waved casually from the gate.

“Next time, same hospitality!”

Simran smiled because everyone else smiled.

Arvind stood near the door, calm and polished.

Billa opened the gate.

The car drove away.

The house became quiet.

Then Simran turned around and saw the mess waiting for her.

---

## Cleaning The Night

The drawing room looked worse in daylight.

Every stain had become clear.

Every glass had a smell.

Every plate had hardened food stuck to it.

Simran tied her dupatta tighter and began.

First glasses.

Then plates.

Then table.

Then floor.

Then sofa.

Then cushions.

Then ashtray.

Then guest rooms.

Rajeev’s room smelled of alcohol and cologne. She opened the window and stripped the bedsheet. One glass was on the floor. A towel had been thrown near the chair. She picked everything up and worked quickly.

Mahesh’s room was cleaner.

The bed was made badly but not destroyed. The glass was on the table. The towel was folded once. On the side table, she found a small note under a cup.

**Thank you. Take care.**

No money.

Just words.

She read it twice.

Then folded it and threw it in the dustbin.

She did not know why the note made her uncomfortable.

Maybe because it felt like warning without saying warning.

By noon, her back hurt again.

Her hands smelled of soap, onion, and yesterday’s party.

She went to the kitchen, washed her face, and took out the money.

One thousand.

She counted it once.

Then again.

This time, the number stayed beautiful.

She smiled faintly.

For the first time in many days, she did not feel completely helpless.

That was the dangerous thing about money.

It could make even a chain feel useful if it was made of notes.

---

## Arvind and Billa

Outside, near the garden wall, Arvind stood with Billa.

Billa was pretending to trim a plant.

The plant did not need trimming.

“Kal sab theek raha?” Arvind asked.
*[Did everything go well yesterday?]*

Billa grinned.

“Bahut theek, sir. Madam ji toh ab bilkul comfortable lag rahi.”
*[Very well, sir. Madam seems completely comfortable now.]*

Arvind looked toward the kitchen window.

“Comfort is not the same as surrender.”

Billa’s grin became smaller.

“Par plan track pe hai na?”
*[But the plan is on track, right?]*

Arvind turned to him.

“Yes. But excitement ruins plans.”

Billa nodded quickly.

“Main samajh gaya.”

“You don’t understand,” Arvind said quietly. “That is why I am saying again. Sabar. Nazar. Observe.”
*[Patience. Watch. Observe.]*

Billa repeated like a collegeboy:

“Sabar. Nazar. Observe.”

“Ravi?”

“Farm se late aayega. Thaka hoga. Din bhar soyega.”

“Good.”

“Simran?”

“Ab aap pe trust karti hai, sir.”

Arvind’s eyes stayed fixed on the kitchen.

“Trust is only the first door.”

Billa smiled again, unable to control himself.

“Phir second door?”

Arvind looked at him coldly.

“You will know when I open it.”

Billa lowered his eyes.

“Ji sir.”

“Until then, behave nicely. If she sees only dirt in you, she will keep distance. Today take her to market. Help her. Act useful.”

Billa looked surprised.

“Main?”

“Yes. Make her think even you can be decent when I want.”

Billa’s grin returned.

“Samajh gaya, sir.”

Arvind stepped closer.

“No dirty jokes. No touching. No mistake.”

“Ji sir.”

“And remember,” Arvind said, voice low, “she should feel that everything becomes easier when my people are around.”

Billa nodded.

This time, he understood.

---

## One Thousand Rupees

Simran stood in the kitchen, checking the jars.

Dal almost finished.

Rice low.

Onions enough for two days.

Tomatoes gone.

Oil low.

Green chilies finished.

She looked at the one thousand rupees in her hand.

This money had to stretch.

She walked to the dining room, where Arvind was reading a file.

“Sir?”

He looked up.

“Yes, Simran?”

“Vegetables aur dal khatam ho rahe hain. Market jana padega.”
*[Vegetables and dal are finishing. I need to go to the market.]*

Arvind glanced toward the window.

“Go today.”

She hesitated.

“Auto se?”
*[By auto?]*

“Billa is also going for shopping. Go with him. He knows better shops.”

Simran’s face changed slightly.

“Billa ke saath?”
*[With Billa?]*

Arvind noticed.

“He will behave. I’ll tell him.”

She still looked unsure.

Arvind’s voice softened.

“You don’t have to go alone in this heat. Market people cheat when they see someone new. Billa knows rates.”

That was practical.

Too practical to refuse easily.

Simran nodded.

“Ji. Theek hai.”
*[Yes. Fine.]*

“Take your time. Buy what you need.”

She almost said thank you.

Then stopped.

Why was she thanking him for sending her with Billa?

The thought came and went.

She returned to the kitchen.

---

## The Auto Ride

Billa was waiting near the gate.

For once, he did not smile in that oily way.

He held two cloth bags and stood a little away from her.

“Chalein, madam ji?”
*[Shall we go, madam?]*

Simran looked at him carefully.

“Haan.”
*[Yes.]*

They took an auto.

Simran sat on one side, Billa on the other, leaving space between them. The auto rattled through the Delhi streets, past fruit carts, tea stalls, cycle repair shops, and men standing in patches of shade.

For a few minutes, neither spoke.

Then Billa said:

“Market mein pehle dal lena. Wahan Sharma store mehnga deta hai. Gupta store se lena.”
*[Buy dal first in the market. Sharma store sells expensive. Buy from Gupta store.]*

Simran looked at him.

“You know rates?”

Billa puffed his chest a little.

“Garden ka aadmi hoon, madam ji. Ghar ka samaan bhi main hi laata tha pehle.”
*[I am the garden man, madam. I used to bring household items too before.]*

She did not answer.

He continued, sounding almost normal.

“Tamatar aaj mehnga hai. Par thoda aage wali stall se lena, sasta milega. Aur dhaniya free mein maangna. Nahi de toh mat lena.”
*[Tomatoes are expensive today. But buy from the stall a little ahead, you’ll get cheaper. And ask for coriander free. If they don’t give it, don’t buy.]*

Simran stared at him for a second.

This was the same Billa who had watched her like a street dog watches food.

Today he sounded like an uncle teaching market rates.

She did not trust it.

But she could use it.

“Theek hai,” she said.
*[Okay.]*

Billa looked pleased.

Not because he was helping.

Because behaving was also part of Arvind’s order.

---

## Market Eyes

The market was busy.

Loud bargaining.

Scooters squeezing through narrow gaps.

Women checking vegetables.

Men shouting prices.

Children running near carts.

Heat rising from the road.

Simran adjusted her dupatta before stepping out of the auto. The white suit she wore felt too light for the crowd, and the summer wind did not help. She pulled the cloth closer around herself and held the shopping bag in front.

Eyes found her quickly.

A fruit seller looked.

A man near the tea stall looked.

Two boys near a paan shop looked and whispered.

Simran’s shoulders tightened.

Billa noticed.

For once, he did not make it worse.

“Seedha chalo,” he said quietly. “Ignore karo.”
*[Walk straight. Ignore them.]*

She glanced at him.

He walked slightly ahead, clearing space.

“Gupta store udhar hai.”
*[Gupta store is there.]*

At the dal shop, the owner looked Simran up and down before looking at Billa.

“Billa bhai, nayi madam?”
*[Billa brother, new madam?]*

Billa’s face hardened slightly.

“Arvind sir ke ghar ka samaan hai. Rate seedha bol.”
*[This is for Arvind sir’s house. Say the proper rate.]*

The shopkeeper’s expression changed quickly.

Respect entered when Arvind’s name entered.

Simran noticed.

Arvind’s name worked like a key in places where she herself had no lock.

The shopkeeper gave the rate.

Billa leaned closer to the sacks.

“Jhooth mat bol. Kal kam tha.”
*[Don’t lie. Yesterday it was less.]*

The shopkeeper laughed.

“Market badal gaya.”

“Hum bhi badal denge shop,” Billa said.

The rate came down.

Simran bought dal.

Then rice.

Then oil.

Then spices.

Each time, Billa checked the rate, argued, and made sure she paid less.

Simran did not know what to feel.

Grateful?

Suspicious?

Both sat together inside her like two strangers sharing a bench.

---

## The Vegetable Stall

At the vegetable stall, the seller was young, maybe thirty, with sharp eyes and a smile that tried too hard.

“Madam ji, kya doon?”
*[Madam, what should I give?]*

“Tamatar, pyaaz, aloo, hari mirch,” Simran said.
*[Tomatoes, onions, potatoes, green chilies.]*

The seller began picking tomatoes.

“Soft wale ya hard wale?”
*[Soft ones or hard ones?]*

“Hard. Fresh.”

He smiled.

“Fresh toh sab hai. Bas dekhne wali nazar honi chahiye.”
*[Everything is fresh. One just needs the right eye to see it.]*

Simran understood the tone.

Her face became still.

Billa, standing nearby, looked at the seller.

“Sabzi bech. Shayari mat kar.”
*[Sell vegetables. Don’t recite poetry.]*

The seller laughed.

“Arre Billa bhai, mazaak tha.”
*[Billa brother, it was a joke.]*

Simran kept her eyes on the vegetables.

The seller placed coriander on top.

“Dhaniya free. Madam ke liye.”
*[Coriander free. For madam.]*

Billa picked up the bunch, checked it, and threw half back.

“Sada hua de raha hai? Achha wala de.”
*[You are giving rotten coriander? Give the good one.]*

The seller made a face but changed it.

Simran almost smiled.

Not at the seller.

At Billa scolding him.

The strange thing was, for a few minutes, she felt protected by the same man she had always avoided.

That confused her more than the market eyes.

When she paid, the seller said softly:

“Madam ji, roz aaya karo. Aap se market bright lagta hai.”
*[Madam, come every day. The market looks bright because of you.]*

Billa stepped forward.

“Zyada bright hua toh aankh band kar denge.”
*[If it gets too bright, we will shut your eyes.]*

The seller laughed nervously.

Simran turned away, hiding a small uncomfortable smile.

She did not like the joke.

But she liked that this time, it was not aimed at her.

It was aimed away.

That was enough for her tired mind to call it help.

---

## Returning Home

The auto ride back was full of bags.

Dal.

Rice.

Oil.

Vegetables.

Curd.

Spices.

Simran held the coriander in one hand and the money balance in the other.

Billa looked at the notes.

“Dekha? Arvind sir ke paise bach gaye.”
*[See? Arvind sir’s money got saved.]*

Simran corrected him.

“Mere paise.”
*[My money.]*

Billa looked at her.

Then laughed.

“Haan, madam ji. Aapke paise.”
*[Yes, madam. Your money.]*

She looked out of the auto.

The road moved past in heat waves.

For the first time, Billa had not made her feel trapped.

That made her uneasy.

Because in Arvind’s house, even good behavior felt planned.

But then she remembered the dal, the rice, the saved money.

Maybe everyone had different sides.

Maybe Billa was not always bad.

Maybe she had judged too quickly.

The thought came softly.

Exactly the way Arvind wanted.

At the gate, Billa carried the heavier bags inside without being asked.

“Kitchen mein rakh doon?”
*[Should I keep them in the kitchen?]*

Simran nodded.

“Ji.”
*[Yes.]*

He placed them near the counter and stepped back.

No joke.

No staring.

No lingering.

“Main garden mein hoon,” he said.
*[I am in the garden.]*

Then he left.

Simran stood in the kitchen, surprised by the silence he left behind.

A clean silence.

A useful silence.

From the dining room, Arvind’s voice came.

“Shopping done?”

She turned.

“Yes sir. Billa helped.”

Arvind smiled faintly.

“Good. He knows the market.”

Simran nodded.

“Rates bhi kam karwa diye.”
*[He got the rates reduced too.]*

“See? Not everyone is useless.”

She smiled a little.

“Maybe.”

Arvind watched that smile carefully.

Another small wall had moved.

---

## The House Smiles Back

That evening, Simran arranged the groceries in jars.

Dal in one.

Rice in another.

Oil near the stove.

Spices refilled.

Green chilies in a small steel bowl.

For the first time in days, the kitchen looked prepared.

She felt prepared too.

The thousand rupees had become food.

The market fear had become a story.

Billa had become slightly less frightening.

Arvind had become slightly more right.

That was how the house worked.

It did not change everything in one day.

It adjusted one feeling at a time.

One doubt.

One comfort.

One small kindness.

One useful lie.

By night, when Ravi left again for the farm, he asked:

“You went market?”

“Haan.”
*[Yes.]*

“Alone?”

“With Billa.”

Ravi’s face changed.

“Billa ke saath?”

Simran turned toward him.

“Arvind sir ne bheja tha. He helped. Rates bhi kam karwaye.”
*[Arvind sir sent him. He helped. He got the rates reduced too.]*

Ravi looked unhappy.

“Tumhe uske saath jaana zaruri tha?”
*[Was it necessary for you to go with him?]*

Simran’s tiredness returned at once.

“Ravi, please. Aaj fight mat karo.”
*[Ravi, please. Don’t fight today.]*

“I am not fighting.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He had no answer.

She closed the jar lid harder than needed.

“Tum khud market le jaate? Tum toh din bhar sote ho. Main akeli jaati toh problem. Billa ke saath gayi toh problem. Main karun kya?”
*[Would you take me to the market yourself? You sleep all day. If I go alone, problem. If I go with Billa, problem. What should I do?]*

Ravi looked down.

The farm call came.

He picked up his bag.

“I’ll go.”

Simran did not stop him.

This time, when he left, she did not feel only sadness.

She felt tired of his disappointment too.

And that frightened her less than it should have.

---

## The Chapter Closes

Later, after the kitchen was cleaned and the house grew quiet, Simran stood near the spice shelf.

The vitamin bottle sat beside the haldi.

The jars were full now.

Dal.

Rice.

Salt.

Survival.

She touched the one thousand rupees she had saved from the day, now reduced but not gone. She had managed. She had bought food. She had kept the house running.

With help.

Arvind’s help.

Billa’s help.

The thought should have felt strange.

Instead, it felt practical.

That was the most dangerous change of all.

Simran looked toward the main house corridor.

Arvind’s study light was still on.

For a moment, she thought of going to say the shopping was done properly.

Then she stopped.

Why did she want to tell him?

Why did his approval feel important?

The question rose.

This time, she heard it.

Then from the outside room, Ravi coughed in his sleep before leaving for the farm.

The sound pulled her back.

She closed the grocery jar and turned away.

“Bas kaam hai,” she whispered again.
*[It is only work.]*

But the house did not believe her anymore.

And somewhere inside her, neither did she.


## Massage Time

That night, Simran finished the kitchen earlier than usual.

The house had finally become quiet after a long day of shopping, cleaning, cooking, and arranging groceries. Ravi had already left for the farm, carrying his bag and his tired silence with him.

For once, Simran did not wait for Billa to call.

She went to the outside room, took a bath, changed into a clean suit, and tied her damp hair loosely behind her neck. The warm water had washed away the dust of the market, the smell of vegetables, and the heaviness of the day.

But it had not washed away the thoughts.

Arvind’s study light was still on.

The oil bottle stood on the small shelf.

Simran looked at it for a moment.

Then she picked it up.

“Bas massage,” she whispered.
*[Just massage.]*

But even she could hear that the words were weaker now.

She walked through the side corridor and stopped outside Arvind’s bedroom.

The door was half open.

She knocked softly.

“Sir?”

Arvind looked up from the chair near the lamp.

For a second, surprise crossed his face.

“You came?”

Simran lowered her eyes.

“Ji. Massage time ho gaya tha.”
*[Yes. It was massage time.]*

Arvind placed the file aside slowly.

Usually he had to send Billa.

Usually he had to ring the bell.

Usually she came with hesitation folded around her like another dupatta.

Tonight, she had come on her own.

That mattered.

Arvind smiled, but kept it soft.

“I thought you must be tired today. Market, cleaning, guests’ rooms, kitchen… long day.”

Simran stepped inside and placed the oil bottle on the side table.

“Tired hoon,” she said. “Par aadat ho gayi.”
*[I am tired. But I got used to it.]*

Arvind watched her carefully.

“To work?”

She did not look at him.

“To everything.”

The room became quiet.

Arvind stood slowly.

“You went with Billa today. He behaved?”

Simran nodded.

“Ji. Aaj theek tha. Market mein help ki. Rates kam karwaye.”
*[Yes. Today he was fine. He helped in the market. Got the rates reduced.]*

“Good.”

“Thoda ajeeb laga,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Woh usually…” She stopped.

Arvind finished gently.

“Uncomfortable karta hai?”
*[He makes you uncomfortable?]*

Simran looked down.

“Kabhi-kabhi.”
*[Sometimes.]*

Arvind’s voice became calm.

“I told him to behave. He will not trouble you.”

She looked at him then.

There it was again.

Safety.

Or something wearing safety’s clothes.

“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly.

Arvind held her gaze.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

But she felt thankful anyway.

That was the trap working neatly.

Arvind lay face down on the bed, folding his arms near the pillow. Simran poured oil into her palms and rubbed them together.

Her hands were no longer nervous like the first night.

They moved with practice now.

Shoulders first.

Slow circles.

Pressure near the upper back.

Careful along the side, not on the bone.

Arvind closed his eyes.

“Pressure is good.”

Simran gave a faint smile.

“Ab seekh gayi hoon.”
*[Now I have learned.]*

“Yes. You learn fast.”

She stayed silent, but the praise reached her.

For a few minutes, only the sound of the fan filled the room.

Then Arvind asked:

“Ravi said anything about the market?”

Simran’s hands slowed.

“Haan.”
*[Yes.]*

“What?”

“Problem.” She gave a tired laugh. “Main akeli jaati toh problem. Billa ke saath gayi toh problem. Main kuch bhi karun, problem.”
*[Problem. If I went alone, problem. If I went with Billa, problem. Whatever I do, problem.]*

Arvind did not answer immediately.

Then he said:

“Some people don’t know how to protect, but they still want control.”

The sentence landed softly, but it cut.

Simran looked away.

“Ravi bura nahi hai.”

“I know.”

“Bas… weak hai.”

She said it before she realized.

Her hands stopped.

The word hung between them.

Weak.

Arvind opened his eyes slightly, but did not turn.

He let the word stay alive.

Simran quickly continued the massage.

“I shouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is my husband.”

“Truth does not stop being truth because someone is your husband.”

She swallowed.

“Sir, please.”

“Okay,” Arvind said softly. “No more.”

He knew when to stop.

That was why she kept speaking.

After some time, Simran said:

“Today I felt good after shopping. I bought dal, rice, vegetables. Thoda money bhi bach gaya.”
*[Today I felt good after shopping. I bought dal, rice, vegetables. Some money was saved too.]*

“That is good.”

“For the first time, kitchen looked full.”

“And you felt in control?”

She thought about it.

“Maybe.”

Arvind’s voice softened.

“You should feel like that more often.”

Simran’s hands slowed again.

Nobody had said that to her before.

Not Ravi.

Not Billa.

Not even life.

You should feel in control.

The words felt expensive.

Like something she could not afford, but wanted to touch.

The hour passed quietly.

When she finished, she wiped her hands with the towel and stepped back.

“Done, sir.”

Arvind sat up slowly.

“You came on your own today.”

Simran’s face warmed.

“Time ho gaya tha.”
*[It was time.]*

He smiled.

“Of course.”

She picked up the oil bottle.

she was standing towords look at door.

and arvind understood.

he unhook her bra hook.

she was like waiting for this signal.

arvind hold her from behind.



( story will update every sunday due to busy work now days i will try to write few chapter every week )

[Hotgiri]

Nice update sir, pls add hot pics and gif in sex scene

[tweeny_fory]

wow the story is going lovely
enjoyed the ride along wit hour heroine

so the 2nd day of massage, she stand in the end of the room near the door
whats next

[zeus90]

Arvind held both her boobs and hugged her from behind.

she was almost surprised by this move and did not say anything.

arvind was aggressive today as he knew she was in control.

simran's suit was backless, and the bra back strap was visible.

arvind did not open her bra; he just held it with his hand and pushed it back,

that tight her chest and bra got loose a bit from that sudden push.

arvind turned her to his face and started kissing her lips, and with both hands held her ass,

simran had no idea how to respond.

as soon kiss finish arvind open simran suit and salwar; she was in a bra and panty in no time.

arvind open bra and told her to go on neck and she did and arvind was already in underwear,

arvind told simran take it in her mouth and she was bit hassitent, but later she held his dick, which was full eratic,

today she seen his full size and was surprised by that,

arvind held her hair with his hand until she started; then arvind today using more force.

she was bit surpirse but arvind keep telling her will will enjoy.

simran was taking half dick and in out but today arvind was in full mood,

arvind wait until her mouth get tried then arvind hold simran head with both hand and try to push and not let her out of her mouth,

as Arvind knew she will stop him, Arvind kept pushing and it was enter almost all in her throt and her eyes were tearing but Arvind ignored it,

arvind getting time of her life that movement but not sure about simran.

arvind used her mouth fully today around 15min when he was about to cum then arvind told simran be ready and she was not sure ready for what,

arvind hold her mouth full force and start cum and that cum was going diract in throut.

arvind make sure head was hold properly when simran breath needed arvind did not leave it so she take air whatever space left in mouth and also drink cum fully.

arvind left her head after he empaty fully and then before simran could say something arvind put finger in her pussy and told simran you are wet and enjoying which simran said yes.

arvind told this is real enjoyment and she believes it.

arvind took a break and in between they did not have any conversations and then arvind asked ready and she said yes,

arvind told her he will lay down and sit on top and Simran hesitated but agreed and then arvind was in and told her to jump like their is no tomorrow,

simran started jumping small but later on she was in full and dick was big and it was hitting her inner part which make pain for her but Arvind was in full flow and she managed it,

simran was already tired after few mins then Arvind took advantage and put her down and he goes on top leg on shoulder pose where arvind was in full control,

arvind as soon in that pose, he became breast mode and start stocking hard and first she did not make sound but Simran couldn't control and started screaming a lot which arvind ignoored,

arvind was in the start only pushing half but later he started pushing full, that hit her inside and she joy screma tern into pain scream, which Arvind noticed but did not care,

start stoke more hard like their is no tomorrow and that trip last around 25min.

arvind know she cant do anymore after this as this is style is arvind and that was main reasion of his divorce.

arvind told Simran you enjoy na and you look tired today we should stop today which simran agreed and start wearing clothes,

when she wore a bra, she noticed it got loose a lot but she waer and went to her room for bath.

arvind call billa which was hiding in store room and billa said all picture taken very well and hand over camera to arvind.

after look arvind was happy as he had something for future events.

billa asked sir when i will get chance which arvind reply soon you will get on her.



# Chapter 12: The Number Trap

That night did not end with massage.

It ended with a line being crossed.

No shouting.

No force.

No struggle.

Only silence, warmth, weakness, and the strange comfort of being wanted by someone who had learned exactly where Simran was lonely.

By the time Simran returned to the outside room, the house was asleep.

The corridor was dark. The garden was quiet. Even Billa’s shadow was nowhere near the walls.

She closed the outside room door softly and stood still for a moment.

Her breathing was slow.

Her mind was not.

She took a bath at the outside tap, letting the warm water run over her face, neck, arms, and tired shoulders. The night air touched her skin, but it did not cool the heaviness inside her.

She looked at herself in the small cracked mirror.

Her eyes looked different.

Not innocent like before.

Not fully guilty either.

Just confused.

Like someone who had walked into a room and forgotten why she came there.

“Bas… aaj ka din bohot lamba tha,” she whispered.
*[It was just… a very long day today.]*

She pressed one hand to her lower back and winced slightly.

Her body ached from work, from cleaning, from standing all day, from carrying bags, from too many hours without rest.

And from the night she was not ready to name.

Her jaw felt sore too. She touched it lightly and frowned.

“Thakawat hai,” she told herself.
*[It is tiredness.]*

Then she sat on the bed.

For a moment, she smiled.

Small.

Private.

Then the smile faded.

Ravi’s side of the bed was empty.

Again.

Simran lay down slowly. When she turned, pain pulled at her lower back and she made a soft sound through her teeth.

She stared at the ceiling.

A question came.

What am I doing?

Then another thought came quickly after it.

But I was happy.

She held that second thought tighter.

Like a blanket over a stain.

Outside, the night stayed silent.

Inside the main house, Arvind slept peacefully.

And between the two rooms, something invisible had shifted.

---

## Morning Limp

Morning came sharp and hot.



Simran woke before sunrise, but her body resisted every movement. Her lower back still ached. Her legs felt heavy. When she stood, she leaned against the wall for a moment until the room stopped spinning softly around her.

“Bas thoda pain hai,” she murmured.
*[It is just a little pain.]*

She made tea slowly.

When she walked toward the main house, her steps were not even.

Not obvious enough for everyone.

But enough for Arvind.

He was sitting at the dining table when she entered with the tray.

His eyes moved from her face to her walk.

Then back to her face.

“Good morning, Simran.”

“Good morning, sir.”

She kept the cup near him and turned quickly toward the kitchen.

Too quickly.

She almost stumbled.

Arvind’s fingers tightened around the cup.

From the back corridor, Billa had also seen it.

For one second, Arvind and Billa looked at each other.

Billa’s mouth twitched.

A small, ugly smile.

Arvind’s face remained calm, but his eyes gave warning.

Not here.

Not now.

Billa lowered his gaze and moved away.

Simran did not see the exchange.

She was already at the stove, holding the counter with one hand while lighting the flame with the other.

Her face was tired, but not unhappy.

That was what Arvind noticed most.

Not the limp.

The softness.

The secret had not scared her away.

It had pulled her inward.

He took a slow sip of tea.

The day had begun well.

---

## Ravi Returns

Ravi returned after ten.

His shirt was dusty. His eyes were swollen from staying awake all night. He pushed open the outside room door and dropped his bag inside.

Simran was not there.

The room smelled faintly of soap and folded clothes.

He sat on the bed and rubbed his knees. His body hurt. His mind hurt more.

Outside, Billa was working near the garden wall.

Or pretending to.

He had been waiting for Ravi’s door.

The moment Ravi stepped out to wash his face, Billa called softly:

“Ravi bhai.”

Ravi looked over.

“Haan?”
*[Yes?]*

Billa came closer, carrying a small spade.

“Kaam kaisa chal raha hai?”
*[How is work going?]*

Ravi splashed water on his face.

“Bas chal raha hai.”
*[It is going.]*

“Health ka kya haal? Bohot thak jaata hoga.”
*[What about health? You must get very tired.]*

Ravi looked at him, surprised by the concern.

“Thak jaata hoon. Raat bhar khada rehna easy nahi hai.”
*[I get tired. Standing all night is not easy.]*

Billa nodded like an elder brother.

“Haan, bhai. Body machine nahi hoti.”
*[Yes, brother. The body is not a machine.]*

Ravi wiped his face with the towel.

For a moment, he looked toward the main house.

“Ghar bhi…” He stopped.

Billa caught it.

“Ghar bhi kya?”
*[What about home?]*

Ravi shook his head.

“Chhodo.”
*[Leave it.]*

Billa lowered his voice.

“Nahi, bol. Main tera dushman thodi hoon.”
*[No, say it. I am not your enemy.]*

Ravi gave a bitter laugh.

“Sab theek nahi chal raha.”
*[Everything is not going well.]*

Billa did not answer quickly.

He let Ravi feel heard.

Then he said:

“Simran se problem?”
*[Problem with Simran?]*

Ravi looked away.

“Pata nahi. Woh alag ho gayi hai. Hamesha busy. Hamesha main house. Main kuch bolun toh main galat.”
*[I don’t know. She has become different. Always busy. Always in the main house. If I say anything, I am wrong.]*

Billa made a sympathetic face.

“Dard hota hai jab apni biwi apni na lage.”
*[It hurts when your own wife doesn’t feel like yours.]*

The sentence struck Ravi.

He did not speak.

Billa leaned against the wall.

“Paise ka pressure bhi hoga.”
*[There must be money pressure too.]*

Ravi laughed without humor.

“Paise? Paise hi toh sabse bada problem hai.”
*[Money? Money is the biggest problem.]*

Billa looked around once, then spoke more softly.

“Kal main dus hazaar jeeta.”
*[Yesterday I won ten thousand.]*

Ravi turned.

“Kya?”
*[What?]*

Billa shrugged like it was nothing.

“Bas luck. Number ka khel hai.”
*[Just luck. A number game.]*

Ravi stared at him.

“Kaunsa number?”
*[What number?]*

Billa smiled.

Not too wide.

Just enough.

“Matka.”

Ravi’s eyes changed.

Interest entered before caution could stop it.

“Illegal hota hai na?”
*[Isn’t that illegal?]*

Billa laughed quietly.

“Delhi mein aadhi cheezein illegal hain, aadhi zaroori. Farq bas itna hai kaun pakda jaata hai.”
*[In Delhi, half the things are illegal, half are necessary. The only difference is who gets caught.]*

Ravi stayed silent.

Billa continued:

“Main tujhe bol nahi raha khel. Bas dekh le. Samajh le. Kabhi luck chal gaya toh ek raat mein salary se zyada paisa.”
*[I am not telling you to play. Just watch. Understand. If luck works, one night can give more than salary.]*

Ravi swallowed.

“Risk?”
*[Risk?]*

“Risk toh doodh ke cans uthane mein bhi hai. Back toot jaaye toh kaun paisa dega?”
*[There is risk even in lifting milk cans. If your back breaks, who will give money?]*

Ravi looked toward the main house again.

Billa followed his gaze.

“Simran ko mat batana.”

Ravi frowned.

“Why?”

“Because woh mujhe pasand nahi karti.”
*[Because she does not like me.]*

Ravi almost smiled.

“Usko lagta hai tu mujhe daaru pilata hai.”
*[She thinks you make me drink.]*

Billa placed a hand on his own chest, acting hurt.

“Main? Arre bhai, main toh hamesha help karta hoon. Job ka connection, market ka kaam, advice… aur badnaam main?”
*[Me? Brother, I always help. Job connection, market work, advice… and I get blamed?]*

Ravi nodded slowly.

“You do help.”

“Then trust me. Aaj before work, chal. Bas dekhna. Ek paisa mat lagana. Agar pasand na aaye toh wapas.”
*[Then trust me. Come today before work. Just watch. Don’t put even one rupee. If you don’t like it, come back.]*

Ravi hesitated.

His tired mind saw only one thing.

Ten thousand.

One night.

Rent.

Respect.

Maybe Simran would look at him differently if he brought money.

Maybe Arvind would stop treating him like a failed man.

Maybe he could stand straight again.

“Simran ko nahi batana,” Billa repeated.

Ravi looked toward the kitchen where Simran was working somewhere inside.

Then he said:

“Main nahi bataunga.”
*[I won’t tell her.]*

Billa smiled.

The hook had touched.

---

## Before Work

That afternoon, Ravi tried to sleep but could not.

Every time he closed his eyes, the number came back.

Ten thousand.

Billa had won ten thousand.

His monthly salary was seven thousand.

Simran worked all day for seven thousand.

Arvind counted their rent in front of them like they were children.

Ten thousand could change things.

Or at least that was how temptation spoke.

It never showed the pit first.

Only the ladder.

At five, Ravi got ready for work earlier than usual.

Simran noticed.

“Today early again?” she asked.
*[Today early again?]*

Ravi did not look at her properly.

“Haan. Farm pe thoda kaam hai.”
*[Yes. There is some work at the farm.]*

She was cutting vegetables.

“Khaya?”

“I’ll eat later.”

She frowned.

“You always say that.”

Ravi became irritated.

“Simran, please. Har baat pe question mat karo.”
*[Simran, please. Don’t question everything.]*

She stopped cutting.

He regretted the tone immediately, but he did not apologize.

The lie had already made him defensive.

Simran looked at him for a moment.

“Theek hai. Jao.”
*[Fine. Go.]*

Ravi picked up his bag.

At the door, he paused.

He almost told her.

Almost.

Then he remembered Billa’s words.

Simran would stop him.

Simran would call him foolish.

Simran would look at him the way Arvind looked at him.

Like a man who could not handle responsibility.

So he left without telling her.

Billa was waiting near the corner lane.

“Chal?”
*[Shall we go?]*

Ravi nodded.

“Bas dekhne.”
*[Only to watch.]*

“Bas dekhne,” Billa agreed.

Both men knew that watching was how many traps began.

---

## The Matka Lane

Billa took Ravi through lanes Ravi had never entered before.

Past a welding shop.

Past a shuttered medical store.

Past a tea stall where men spoke in low voices and stopped when strangers passed.

The lane became narrower.

At the end, behind a paan shop, there was a small room with a half-curtain over the door.

No signboard.

No noise from outside.

Inside, four men sat around a wooden table. A ceiling fan turned lazily. Smoke hung in the air. A small notebook lay open near a steel cash box.

Ravi stopped at the entrance.

Billa placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Relax. Apne log hain.”
*[Relax. They are our people.]*

One man looked up.

He was heavy, dark-skinned, with a thick gold chain and cold eyes. His hair was combed back with oil. Everyone else seemed to speak around him, not over him.

Billa smiled.

“Jagga bhai.”
*[Brother Jagga.]*

The man looked at Ravi.

“Naya hai?”
*[New?]*

“Dost hai. Sirf dekhne laya hoon.”
*[He is a friend. I brought him only to watch.]*

Jagga leaned back.

“Dekhne wale zyada khatarnak hote hain. Pehle dekhte hain, phir sochte hain, phir ghar bechte hain.”
*[People who watch are more dangerous. First they watch, then they think, then they sell their homes.]*

The men laughed.

Ravi did not.

Billa quickly said:

“Seedha aadmi hai. Dairy farm mein kaam karta hai. Paise ki tension hai.”
*[He is a simple man. Works at a dairy farm. Has money pressure.]*

Jagga’s eyes stayed on Ravi.

“Paise ki tension toh sabko hai. Farq yeh hai koi mehnat karta hai, koi number pe bharosa karta hai.”
*[Everyone has money pressure. The difference is, some work hard, some trust numbers.]*

Ravi swallowed.

“I am only watching.”

Jagga smiled slightly.

“Good. Watching is free. Losing is expensive.”
*[Good. Watching is free. Losing is expensive.]*

Billa laughed.

“Jagga bhai darata bohot hai.”
*[Jagga brother scares people a lot.]*

Jagga looked at him.

“Dar zaroori hai. Dar ke bina aadmi limit bhool jaata hai.”
*[Fear is necessary. Without fear, a man forgets his limit.]*

Ravi did not know why, but he liked Jagga immediately.

Not as a good man.

As a strong man.

A man nobody interrupted.

A man who had money on the table and fear in the room.

Ravi wanted that feeling.

Even for one day.

---

## Billa Wins

Billa did not ask Ravi to play.

That was the clever part.

He only played himself.

He spoke to one of the men in a low voice, placed some folded notes on the table, and gave a number.

Ravi watched everything carefully.

He did not fully understand the game.

He only understood the hope in the room.

Men waited like their lives were tied to invisible digits.

One man kept tapping his foot.

Another whispered a prayer.

Another cursed softly under his breath.

After some time, a phone rang.

Everyone became quiet.

The man near the cash box listened, wrote something, then looked up.

Billa grinned before anyone said anything.

“Bola tha,” he whispered.
*[I told you.]*

The man counted money and pushed it toward Billa.

Two thousand.

Ravi stared.

It had happened so quickly.

No milk cans.

No night shift.

No body pain.

No Arvind counting rent.

Just a few notes turning into more notes.

Billa picked up the money and slapped it lightly against his palm.

“Luck,” he said.

Jagga looked at Ravi.

“Dekha?”
*[Saw?]*

Ravi nodded.

His mouth had gone dry.

Jagga leaned forward.

“Abhi jo feeling aa rahi na, uska naam paisa nahi hai. Uska naam lalach hai.”
*[The feeling you are having right now is not called money. It is called greed.]*

Ravi looked embarrassed.

Jagga continued:

“Greed ko control kar sakta hai toh game khel. Greed tujhe control kare toh bhaag ja.”
*[If you can control greed, play. If greed controls you, run away.]*

Billa laughed.

“Jagga bhai lecture bhi free deta hai.”
*[Jagga brother gives lectures for free too.]*

Jagga ignored him.

“What do you need money for?” he asked Ravi.

Ravi hesitated.

“Rent.”

“Wife?”

Ravi looked down.

“Yes.”

Jagga smiled without warmth.

“Wife ke liye aadmi sabse zyada bewakoofi karta hai.”
*[A man does the most foolish things for his wife.]*

Ravi’s face tightened.

“I just want to stand on my feet.”

Jagga looked at him for a long moment.

Then he said:

“Then first learn to stand still.”

The room laughed softly.

But Ravi did not feel insulted.

He felt challenged.

Billa noticed.

Good, he thought.

Ravi was no longer looking at the door.

He was looking at the table.

---

## The First Invitation

When they stepped out, evening had begun turning orange.

The lane smelled of dust, paan, diesel, and fried snacks.

Billa counted his two thousand again.

Ravi watched from the side.

“Lucky day,” Billa said.

Ravi nodded.

“Can someone win more?”

Billa looked at him.

“Much more.”

“Lose more too?”

“Obviously.”

Ravi became quiet.

Billa folded the notes and kept them in his pocket.

“Tu smart khel sakta hai. Small amount. No greed. Bas thoda extra. Rent ka pressure kam.”
*[You can play smart. Small amount. No greed. Just a little extra. Rent pressure reduced.]*

Ravi said nothing.

Billa added:

“Par Simran ko mat batana. Women panic. Woh samjhegi tu barbaad ho gaya.”
*[But don’t tell Simran. Women panic. She will think you are ruined.]*

Ravi looked away.

“She already thinks I am useless.”

Billa’s voice softened.

“Then show her you are not.”

That was the poison.

Not the game.

The sentence.

Show her.

Earn fast.

Become a man again.

Ravi looked back toward the hidden room.

“When next?” he asked.

Billa smiled.

“Kal bhi ho sakta hai.”

Ravi nodded slowly.

“Before work?”

“Before work.”

Ravi took a breath.

“Only small.”

Billa placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Of course. Bas small.”
*[Of course. Only small.]*

But Billa’s smile said something else.

Small is only the first bite.

---

## Back To The Farm

Ravi reached the farm late.

The supervisor shouted at him.

“Time dekha hai?”
*[Have you seen the time?]*

Ravi apologized quickly and lifted the first milk can.

His body complained.

His back hurt.

His arms burned.

But his mind was not at the farm anymore.

It was in the room behind the paan shop.

The table.

The notebook.

The cash box.

Jagga’s gold chain.

Billa’s two thousand.

The sound of money sliding across wood.

For the first time in weeks, Ravi did not feel only tired.

He felt possibility.

Danger often entered poor men like that.

Not with horns.

With hope.

---

## Simran Does Not Know

At the house, Simran worked late.

She prepared dinner.

Cleaned the kitchen.


Arranged Arvind’s tea.

Checked the groceries.


Her body still ached from the previous day, but her mind kept moving between two rooms.

Ravi’s room.

Arvind’s room.

One full of duty.

One full of attention.

She did not know that while she was cleaning rice, Ravi had stepped into another trap.

A trap made of numbers.

A trap that did not smell like alcohol yet.

A trap that promised money before it asked for blood.

That night, when Simran stood near the spice shelf, she touched the vitamin bottle without thinking.

Then she pulled her hand away.

For a second, a doubt returned.

No proper label.

No real name.

Only Daily Support Tablets.

She looked at it.

Then Arvind called from the dining room.

“Simran?”



She turned at once.

“Ji sir?”
*[Yes sir?]*

“Tea?”

She closed the spice shelf.

“Abhi banati hoon.”
*[I’ll make it now.]*

The doubt stayed inside the cupboard.

Beside the haldi.

Beside the salt.

Waiting.

And far away, in a narrow room behind a paan shop, Ravi’s name had quietly been added to another list.


# Chapter 13: The Winning Number

Ravi told himself he would only go once more.

Just once.

Only to understand.

Only to watch.

Only small.

That was how the trap kept its first promise.

It never asked for everything on the first day.

It asked for a little.

A little time.

A little money.

A little secrecy.

Then it waited for the hunger to grow by itself.

---

## Day One: Small Number

The next evening, before work, Ravi met Billa near the corner lane again.

Billa was already waiting, chewing gum, hands in his pockets.

“Aaya hero?”
*[You came, hero?]*

Ravi looked around.

“Bas small.”
*[Only small.]*

Billa smiled.

“Bilkul small. Smart aadmi pehle hawa dekh ke pair rakhta hai.”
*[Absolutely small. A smart man first checks the air before stepping.]*

Ravi did not fully understand the line, but he nodded.

They went through the same narrow lane.

Past the welding shop.

Past the shuttered medical store.

Past the tea stall.

Behind the paan shop, the curtain moved, and the hidden room opened like a mouth.

Jagga was already there.

Gold chain.

Cold eyes.

Notebook.

Cash box.

He looked at Ravi and smiled faintly.

“Watcher became player?”
*[Watcher became player?]*

Ravi looked down.

“Thoda sa.”
*[A little.]*

Jagga leaned back.

“Thoda sa poison bhi poison hota hai.”
*[A little poison is still poison.]*

The men laughed.

Ravi forced a smile.

Billa placed a small amount for him. Ravi’s fingers were nervous when he handed over the money.

The room waited.

Numbers were spoken.

Notes moved.

A phone rang.

A man wrote something in the notebook.

Ravi’s number came close but did not win.

He lost.

Not much.

Small.

But still loss.

His face tightened.

Billa clapped his shoulder.

“First day hai. Game samajh.”
*[It is the first day. Understand the game.]*

Ravi nodded.

But inside, he had already made a decision.

Tomorrow he would try again.

Not because he had lost.

Because he had almost won.

Almost is the gambling man’s first ghost.

---

## Day Two: First Win

The next day, Ravi returned.

This time he placed a little more.

Not much.

Still small enough to tell himself he was careful.

Billa stood beside him like an elder brother.

“Dar mat. Number feeling se aata hai.”
*[Don’t fear. The number comes from feeling.]*

Jagga heard and laughed.

“Feeling se sirf barbaadi aati hai. Number paper pe aata hai.”
*[Only ruin comes from feeling. Numbers come on paper.]*

Ravi smiled nervously.

The men waited.

The phone rang.

The notebook man wrote.

Then Billa’s eyes widened.

“Ravi bhai,” he whispered, “tera lag gaya.”
*[Ravi brother, yours hit.]*

Ravi stared.

“What?”

The cash box opened.

Money came toward him.

Not a fortune.

But enough.

More than one night of lifting milk cans.

More than his tired body had expected.

Ravi held the notes like they were proof.

Proof that maybe he was not useless.

Proof that luck could respect him when people did not.

Billa grinned.

“Bola tha na? Luck ko chance dena padta hai.”
*[I told you, right? You have to give luck a chance.]*

Ravi smiled for the first time in days.

A real smile.

Jagga watched him carefully.

“Smile sambhal ke rakh,” Jagga said. “Kal yahi smile ro bhi sakti hai.”
*[Keep that smile carefully. Tomorrow the same smile can cry too.]*

Ravi did not listen.

Winning makes warnings sound like jealousy.

---

## The First Drink

That night, instead of going straight to work, Billa took Ravi to a small drinking place behind the main road.

“Celebration,” Billa said.

Ravi hesitated.

“I told Simran I stopped.”

Billa ordered two glasses anyway.

“Tu har din peeta tha. Aaj jeeta hai. Difference samajh.”
*[You used to drink every day. Today you won. Understand the difference.]*

Ravi looked at the money in his pocket.

He should have saved it.

He should have taken vegetables home.

He should have given it to Simran.

Instead, he sat down.

“One only,” he said.

Billa smiled.

“One only.”

By the time Ravi reached the farm, the winning money had already become smaller.

Some lost to drink.

Some to food.

Some to pride.

But Ravi did not feel guilty.

He felt alive.

---

## Day Four: Luck Walks Beside Him

For the next few days, luck stayed close enough to fool him.

One day he won small.

The next day he lost small, then won it back.

Then he won more.

Not huge.

But enough to keep the fire burning.

Each win made him stand straighter.

Each loss made him return with more hunger.

Billa watched quietly.

He did not push too much.

That was the art.

Let the fish pull the hook deeper by itself.

One evening, Ravi entered the hidden room more confidently.

Jagga looked at him.

“Ab toh purana aadmi lag raha hai.”
*[Now you look like an old player.]*

Ravi smiled.

“Thoda seekh gaya.”
*[I have learned a little.]*

Jagga’s eyes sharpened.

“Game seekha ya greed?”
*[Did you learn the game or greed?]*

Billa laughed.

“Jagga bhai, aap har baat mein philosophy daal dete ho.”
*[Jagga brother, you put philosophy in everything.]*

Jagga ignored Billa.

He looked only at Ravi.

“Jo aadmi do din jeet ke khud ko master samajhta hai, woh teesre din udhar maangta hai.”
*[The man who wins for two days and thinks he is a master asks for credit on the third day.]*

Ravi’s smile faded.

“I am careful.”

Jagga nodded.

“Good. Careful aadmi kabhi yeh line nahi bolta.”
*[Good. A careful man never says that line.]*

The room laughed again.

Ravi laughed too, but something in him tightened.

He wanted to prove Jagga wrong.

That was the second hook.

---

## Simran’s Days

While Ravi chased numbers, Simran chased time.

Her days had become a circle.

Wake before sunrise.

Tea for Ravi.

Food for Ravi.

Main house.

Tea for Arvind.

Breakfast.

Cleaning.

Lunch.

Laundry.

Study work.

Evening snacks.

Dinner.

Then oil bottle.

Massage.

Extra work.

Sometimes Arvind spoke kindly.

Sometimes he gave money.

Sometimes he only watched her with the patience of a man counting invisible steps.

Simran did not know about Ravi’s gambling.

She only noticed small things.

Ravi leaving earlier.

Ravi coming home more restless.

Ravi sometimes smiling to himself.

Ravi sometimes smelling of alcohol again, but calling it “work tiredness.”

One morning, she asked:

“Ravi, tum farm pe hi jaate ho na?”
*[Ravi, you do go to the farm only, right?]*

Ravi looked up sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“Bas poochha.”
*[I just asked.]*

“Tumhe har cheez mein doubt kyun hota hai?”
*[Why do you doubt everything?]*

Simran became quiet.

He regretted snapping, but not enough to tell the truth.

The secret stayed safe.

And secrets, once kept, need more secrets to protect them.

---

## Arvind Notices

Arvind noticed Ravi too.

He noticed the early exits.

The changing mood.

The nervous eyes.

One afternoon, he called Billa near the side gate.

“Ravi?” Arvind asked.

Billa smiled.

“Number room jaa raha hai roz.”
*[He is going to the number room every day.]*

“Playing?”

“Pehle small. Ab thoda confidence aa gaya.”

“Winning?”

“Thoda thoda. Aur jo jeetta hai, usi se drink bhi kar leta hai.”
*[A little. And whatever he wins, he drinks with it too.]*

Arvind looked toward the outside room.

“Good.”

Billa grinned.

“Ab phas jayega.”
*[Now he will get trapped.]*

Arvind’s eyes stayed calm.

“Not yet. Winning is not trapping. Losing is.”

Billa nodded slowly.

“Samajh gaya.”

“No,” Arvind said. “You don’t. Make sure he gets enough taste to believe. Then let the floor move.”

Billa’s grin returned.

“Jagga bhai ko bol doon?”

Arvind looked at him.

“Jagga knows business. He does not need teaching.”

Billa lowered his eyes.

“Yes sir.”

Arvind turned back toward the house.

Inside, Simran was cleaning the dining table.

She had no idea that while one trap was wrapping around her softly, another was opening under Ravi’s feet.

That was the beauty of Arvind’s plan.

Two people.

Two cages.

Different doors.

Same house.

---

## The Ten Thousand Win

It happened on a Thursday.

Ravi had gone before work, telling Simran the farm had called him early again.

This time he placed more money than usual.

His hand shook slightly.

Billa saw it.

“Dar raha?”
*[Are you scared?]*

“Bas… this is more.”

“More risk, more result.”

Jagga looked from behind the table.

“Or more loss.”

Ravi ignored him.

The room waited.

The fan turned slowly.

One man whispered numbers under his breath.

Another smoked near the window.

The phone rang.

The notebook man answered.

Listened.

Wrote.

Then looked at Ravi.

Billa slapped Ravi’s shoulder.

“Lag gaya!”
*[It hit!]*

Ravi stood still.

For a second, he did not understand.

Then the cash box opened.

Notes came out.

More than before.

Much more.

Ten thousand.

Ravi stared at the money.

Ten thousand rupees.

Rent money.

Respect money.

Proof money.

His hands closed around it.

The room changed.

He was no longer Ravi the tired dairy worker.

He was Ravi who had won ten thousand.

Billa lifted his arms.

“Hero!”

Ravi laughed.

Loud.

Too loud.

Jagga watched him with a cold smile.

“Ab master ban gaya?”
*[Now you became a master?]*

Ravi looked at the money.

“Maybe.”

Jagga leaned forward.

“Remember this feeling. This is the feeling people chase until they lose their name.”

Ravi did not care.

His mind had already become bright with plans.

He would not tell Simran yet.

First he would win more.

Then one day he would place money in front of her and say:

See?

I can manage.

I am not weak.

That night, he drank with Billa.

Not small.

Not one glass.

He spent from the winning money because it did not feel like salary.

Salary felt earned.

This felt created.

Magic money.

And magic money disappears faster.

---

## The Fall

The next day, Ravi went back.

He should have stopped.

He should have saved the ten thousand.

He should have paid rent early.

He should have hidden the money somewhere safe.

Instead, he went back to prove the win was not luck.

That was the third hook.

He placed the same amount again.

His logic was simple.

If it happened yesterday, it could happen today.

If he won once, he could win again.

If he won again, ten would become twenty.

Twenty would change everything.

Jagga looked at the notes.

“Sure?”

Ravi nodded.

“Sure.”

Billa stood beside him, but quieter today.

The room waited.

The phone rang.

The notebook man wrote.

Ravi’s number did not come.

The money disappeared.

Just like that.

No milk cans.

No sweat.

No argument.

No sound.

Ten thousand gone.

Ravi stared at the table.

His mouth went dry.

Billa placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Bad luck.”

Ravi shook his head.

“One more.”

Jagga looked at him.

“With what?”

Ravi swallowed.

“Udhar.”
*[Credit.]*

The room became quiet.

Jagga leaned back.

“Ab asli game shuru hua.”
*[Now the real game has started.]*

Ravi’s face tightened.

“I’ll return. Salary aayegi.”

“When?”

Ravi hesitated.

“Three weeks.”

Jagga laughed once.

“Three weeks mein aadmi gaayab bhi ho sakta hai.”
*[A man can disappear in three weeks.]*

“I won’t.”

Billa spoke softly:

“Jagga bhai, apna aadmi hai.”
*[Jagga brother, he is our man.]*

Jagga looked at Billa.

“Apna aadmi paise se hota hai. Baaton se nahi.”
*[A man becomes ours through money, not words.]*

Ravi felt sweat on his back.

“Just ten. I will win it back.”

Jagga stared at him for a long moment.

Then he nodded to the cash box man.

Ten thousand on credit.

Ravi played again.

And lost again.

This time, silence did not feel empty.

It felt like a hand around his throat.

Jagga closed the notebook.

“Ten thousand owed.”

Ravi’s voice came out thin.

“I’ll pay.”

“Ten days,” Jagga said.

Ravi looked up.

“Ten days? Salary after three weeks.”

Jagga’s eyes hardened.

“That is your problem. Not mine.”

Billa did not speak.

Ravi looked at him.

“Billa…”

Billa avoided his eyes.

Jagga tapped the notebook.

“Ten days. After that, reminder will come.”

The word reminder did not sound like a phone call.

Ravi understood.

Fear finally entered.

Too late.

---

## Billa Steps Back

Outside the lane, Ravi grabbed Billa’s arm.

“You said small. You said smart. You said luck.”

Billa pulled his arm away.

“Tu khud khela.”
*[You played yourself.]*

“You took me there.”

“I took you to watch.”

Ravi stared at him.

“Help me. Please. Ten thousand. I’ll return when salary comes.”

Billa laughed bitterly.

“Main khud kal sab haar gaya.”
*[I myself lost everything yesterday.]*

“You said you had savings.”

“Tha. Gaya.”
*[I had. Gone.]*

Ravi’s face fell.

Billa looked around, then lowered his voice.

“Listen. Jagga se panga mat lena. Ten days mein arrange kar. Salary advance le.”

“I can’t. Already took advance before. This time if I ask, farm owner will throw me out.”

“Then ask Arvind sir.”

Ravi’s face tightened at once.

“No.”

Billa watched him carefully.

“Pride rakhega ya body?”
*[Will you keep pride or your body?]*

Ravi said nothing.

Billa stepped back.

“Main help nahi kar sakta. Aur Simran ko mat batana. Woh seedha drama karegi.”
*[I can’t help. And don’t tell Simran. She will create drama immediately.]*

Ravi’s breathing became heavy.

Ten days.

Ten thousand.

No salary for three weeks.

No advance.

No help.

No truth.

He had entered the room behind the paan shop to become a man.

He left it owing money to men who did not smile with their eyes.

---

## Days Of Hiding

The next ten days began.

Day one, Ravi barely slept.

He returned from work, lay on the bed, and stared at the wall.

Simran placed tea near him.

“Tabiyat kharab hai?”
*[Are you unwell?]*

“Bas tired.”

She looked at him.

“Tum ajeeb lag rahe ho.”

“Raat ka kaam hai. Ajeeb hi lagunga.”
*[It is night work. I will look strange.]*

She did not push.

She had her own exhaustion.

Main house.

Cooking.

Cleaning.

Arvind.

Oil bottle.

Soft words.

Secret guilt.

By evening, she was gone again.

Ravi watched her leave.

He wanted to tell her.

But if he told her, she would ask where the money went.

She would ask why he went there.

She would ask why Billa was involved.

She would look at him with that tired disappointment.

He could not bear it.

So he stayed silent.

Silence, once again, became the third person in their room.

---

## Day Three

On the third day, Billa came near Ravi while he washed his face.

“Arrange hua?”
*[Did you arrange it?]*

Ravi glared.

“From where?”

“Think.”

“I am thinking.”

“Think faster.”

Ravi grabbed the towel too tightly.

“Can you talk to Jagga?”

Billa shook his head.

“No. Ten days means ten days. Uske baad interest, pressure, insult, sab start.”
*[After that interest, pressure, insult, everything starts.]*

Ravi’s face turned pale.

“Interest?”

Billa looked away.

“You thought debt stays the same?”

Ravi leaned against the wall.

The ground felt loose.

From inside the kitchen, Simran called:

“Ravi, chai thandi ho rahi hai.”
*[Ravi, tea is getting cold.]*

Billa smiled faintly.

“Biwi ko kuch pata nahi?”

Ravi’s jaw tightened.

“Nahi.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Billa walked away.

Ravi picked up the tea.

His hands shook.

Simran noticed.

“Ravi?”

“Cup garam hai,” he lied.

The tea was not hot.

---

## Simran’s Parallel Life

Simran did not know Ravi was drowning.

She only saw the surface.

He was quiet.

Irritated.

Tired.

Sometimes too gentle.

Sometimes too sharp.

But she had stopped trying to understand every mood.

A person can only knock on a closed door so many times before their knuckles learn silence.

Her own life had become strange too.

At night, she went to Arvind’s room.

Sometimes for massage.

Sometimes for “extra help.”

Sometimes just because Arvind said he had back pain and she no longer waited to be called twice.

The scenes stayed quiet.

Non-graphic.

Emotional.

Complicated.

She told herself she was choosing.

She told herself she was happier.

She told herself Ravi had pushed her away first.

Arvind never corrected these thoughts.

He watered them.

One night, while she pressed his shoulder, he asked:

“You look distracted.”

“Ravi ajeeb behave kar raha hai.”
*[Ravi is behaving strangely.]*

“Again?”

“Haan. Kabhi gussa, kabhi chup.”
*[Yes. Sometimes angry, sometimes silent.]*

Arvind kept his voice calm.

“Maybe he is hiding something.”

Simran’s hands stopped.

“What?”

“I don’t know. I am only saying, people who feel guilty become restless.”

She looked toward the floor.

“Guilty?”

Arvind turned his face slightly.

“Do you trust him?”

Simran did not answer.

Arvind did not ask again.

He did not need to.

The question itself was enough.

---

## Day Six

On day six, Ravi tried to ask the farm supervisor for advance.

He stood near the loading area after shift, hands blackened with dirt and milk residue.

“Sir… thoda advance mil sakta hai?”
*[Sir… can I get a little advance?]*

The supervisor looked at him sharply.

“Again?”

Ravi lowered his eyes.

“Emergency hai.”
*[There is an emergency.]*

“Pichli baar bhi emergency thi.”
*[Last time also there was an emergency.]*

“I’ll manage.”

The supervisor stepped closer.

“Listen, Ravi. You are already slow. Late bhi aaya tha pichle week. Advance chahiye toh kaam strong hona chahiye. Yahan charity nahi chalti.”
*[Listen, Ravi. You are already slow. You were late last week too. If you want advance, your work has to be strong. This is not charity.]*

Ravi swallowed.

“So no?”

“No. Salary three weeks later. Usse pehle mat poochna.”
*[No. Salary is three weeks later. Don’t ask before that.]*

Ravi walked away with his face burning.

Three weeks.

Jagga gave ten days.

The numbers did not fit.

Nothing in Ravi’s life fit anymore.

---

## Arvind’s Plan Continues

That afternoon, Billa reported everything to Arvind.

They stood near the side wall again.

“Ravi ne advance maanga. Mila nahi.”
*[Ravi asked for advance. He did not get it.]*

Arvind nodded.

“Debt?”

“Ten thousand. Ten days. Ab six days baaki.”
*[Ten thousand. Ten days. Now six days left.]*

“Good.”

Billa smiled.

“Ab woh khud aapke paas aayega?”
*[Now he will come to you himself?]*

Arvind looked toward the outside room.

“Maybe. Or he will break somewhere else first.”

“Simran ko pata nahi.”

“Keep it that way.”

Billa scratched his chin.

“Sir, agar Ravi ne bata diya toh?”

Arvind smiled faintly.

“He won’t. Shame is a stronger lock than fear.”

Billa nodded, impressed.

“And Simran?”

Arvind’s eyes moved toward the kitchen.

“She is busy believing she is happy.”

Billa grinned.

“Plan perfect hai.”

Arvind’s face hardened.

“No plan is perfect. That is why we watch.”

---

## Day Eight

On day eight, Ravi snapped at Simran over nothing.

She had placed food in front of him.

He looked at the sabzi and said:

“Salt zyada hai.”

Simran stared.

“Itna bhi nahi.”

“Main bol raha hoon zyada hai.”

She picked up the plate.

“Mat khao.”

He grabbed her wrist, not hard, but sudden.

She froze.

He let go immediately.

Both looked at her wrist.

A memory moved between them.

The slap.

The fear.

The mark.

Ravi’s face broke.

“Sorry.”

Simran pulled her hand back slowly.

“What is wrong with you?”
*[Tumhare saath problem kya hai?]*

Ravi almost said it.

Ten thousand.

Jagga.

Billa.

Debt.

Fear.

But the words became stones in his throat.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she said, tired. “Everything is nothing with you.”

She left the room.

Ravi sat there alone, staring at the plate.

He hated himself.

Then he hated the debt.

Then he hated Billa.

Then, because it was easiest, he hated Arvind.

But none of those feelings made ten thousand appear.

---

## Day Ten Nears

By the ninth day, Ravi had stopped sleeping properly.

His eyes looked hollow.

His hands shook when he tied his shoelaces.

The farm work became harder because fear had stolen his strength.

Billa found him near the side gate.

“Tomorrow last day.”

Ravi glared at him.

“I know.”

“Arrange?”

“No.”

Billa sighed.

“Then talk to Arvind sir.”

Ravi looked toward the big house.

“No.”

“Then Jagga will talk.”

Ravi’s face went pale.

Billa lowered his voice.

“Listen, Ravi. I am saying as friend. Before Jagga sends someone, go to Arvind sir. Better insult from sahib than beating from street.”
*[Listen, Ravi. I am saying as a friend. Before Jagga sends someone, go to Arvind sir. Better insult from a rich man than beating from the street.]*

Ravi clenched his jaw.

“You are not my friend.”

Billa smiled sadly, acting hurt.

“Maybe. But I was right about one thing.”

“What?”

“Paise ke bina aadmi ki biwi bhi door ho jaati hai.”
*[Without money, even a man’s wife becomes distant.]*

Ravi stepped closer.

“Shut up.”

Billa lifted both hands.

“Truth hurts.”

Ravi walked away before he did something foolish.

But the sentence followed him.

Like all of Billa’s sentences did.

---

## Simran Still Does Not Know

That night, Simran stood in Arvind’s room, folding a towel after the massage.

“You are quiet,” Arvind said.

She nodded.

“Ravi se fight ho gayi.”

“What happened?”

“He is hiding something. I can feel it.”

Arvind looked at her carefully.

“Then ask him.”

“I did. He says nothing.”

“Then maybe he does not trust you.”

The line hurt.

Simran looked up.

“I left everything for him.”

Arvind’s voice became very soft.

“Sometimes people take the biggest sacrifices and still do not value the person who made them.”

Her eyes filled, but she blinked quickly.

“I don’t want to cry.”

“Then don’t.”

“I am tired.”

“I know.”

Again.

I know.

The same two words.

Still working.

Simran sat on the edge of the chair for a moment, head lowered.

Arvind did not touch her.

He only waited.

And waiting, from him, felt like care.

When she left, he walked to the window and looked toward the outside room.

Ravi was somewhere in the dark, owing money.

Simran was somewhere between guilt and comfort.

Billa was watching both.

The house breathed quietly.

Everything was on track.

---

## The Last Night Before Payment

Ravi returned from the farm before sunrise on the tenth day.

He did not enter the room immediately.

He stood outside under the dull grey sky, looking at the main house.

Arvind’s window was dark.

The gate was closed.

The garden was still.

Ten thousand.

Today.

His chest felt tight.

He could not ask Simran.

He could not ask the farm.

Billa had refused.

Jagga would not wait.

And Arvind…

Ravi looked at the big house again.

His pride fought his fear.

Fear won slowly.

Inside the outside room, Simran slept, turned away, her face peaceful for once.

Ravi looked at her.

For a moment, he wanted to kneel beside the bed and tell her everything.

But then he imagined her eyes.

Disappointment.

Anger.

Maybe disgust.

He stepped back.

“No,” he whispered.

He would handle it.

Somehow.

That word again.

Somehow.

It had carried them to Delhi.

It had carried them into Arvind’s house.

Now it carried Ravi toward another door.

A worse one.

By afternoon, the decision had already begun forming inside him.

He would ask Arvind.

Not as a man asking for help.

As a man surrendering another piece of himself.

And somewhere nearby, unseen, the trap waited with its mouth open.

[tweeny_fory]

wow with a number game and saily routine.. wow what a masterpeiece..
loved it bro
will ravi talk to arvind? what has arvind t o ask in return for 10k?