Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

Congratulations

Thank you so much

[ananth1986]

Beauty comes with resposibility.
So Rohan has to take resposibility of Neetu and Mamta.

[prasannas2001]

Beauty comes with resposibility.
So Rohan has to take resposibility of Neetu and Mamta.

Haha! Yes, he obviously have to. And I am pretty sure, he will take their responsibility. 

Thank you for your support Ananth.

[prasannas2001]

 
Mamta turned toward the window, a gentle smile playing on her face.
 
“You are quite good at talking, Rohan.”
 
He smiled.
 
“Only when I have a good listener.”
 
“And I suppose I am that listener?”
 
“I think so.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Because most people hear words,” he said. “But you actually listen.”
 
Mamta looked at him again.
 
“That is a very clever answer.”
 
“Engineering students learn problem-solving.”
 
“And flirting?”
 
He laughed.
 
“I’m still working on that.”
 
She raised an eyebrow.
 
“Really?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Then you need more practice?”
 
Rohan smiled mischievously.
 
“Maybe. But I think I’m getting a little lucky today.”
 
“Lucky?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Why?”
 
He glanced at her, then quickly looked back at the road.
 
“Because I came here to learn about roses…”
 
He paused.
 
“…but I ended up having a much more interesting conversation.”
 
Mamta tried to hide her smile, but she couldn’t.
 
“Careful, Rohan. Compliments can be dangerous.”
 
“Only if they are not true.”
 
She looked away again, and he noticed the soft blush that appeared on her cheeks.
 
For Rohan, that small reaction felt like a victory.
 
Not because he had impressed her.
 
But because, for a brief moment, the woman he had admired from afar seemed completely comfortable being herself with him.
 
 
 
A few minutes later, the conversation drifted to Neetu.
 
Mamta smiled fondly.
 
“You know, when Neetu was little, she used to hide my books.”
 
Rohan laughed.
 
“Really? Neetu?”
 
“Oh yes. She hated it whenever I spent too much time reading. She wanted all my attention.”
 
“So what did she do?”
 
“She would quietly take one of my poetry books and hide it somewhere in the house. Then, when I started searching for it, she'd come running and say, 'Don't worry, Mummy. I'll help you find it.'”
 
Rohan burst into laughter.

[prasannas2001]

Rohan and Mamta in a car. 

[prasannas2001]

 
Rohan asked her with amusement, “She created the problem and became the hero?”
 
“Exactly.”
 
“She sounds exactly like Neetu.”
 
“She hasn't changed much,” Mamta replied, laughing. “She's always liked being the clever one.”
 
“I can believe that.”
 
“She'd eventually 'discover' the book under a pillow or behind a curtain, looking so proud of herself that I couldn't even pretend to be angry.”
 
“She was manipulating situations even as a child.”
 
Mamta nodded with a smile.
 
“She still does.”
 
Rohan chuckled.
 
“I suppose she learned that from someone.”
 
Mamta looked at him in surprise.
 
“From me?”
 
“Well…” he teased. “You seem very good at making people do things they weren't planning to.”
 
She tilted her head.
 
“Oh? Such as?”
 
He smiled.
 
“I came here to buy one rose plant.”
 
“Yes…”
 
“Instead, I bought a rose, learned an entire lesson on gardening, and somehow agreed to carry half the nursery to your apartment.”
 
Mamta laughed, shaking her head.
 
“I didn't force you.”
 
“No,” he admitted, looking at her with an easy smile.
 
“You didn't have to.”
 
For just a moment, their eyes met.
 
Mamta felt an unexpected warmth rise to her cheeks and looked out through the windshield, pretending to admire the passing trees.
 
To her relief, and slight disappointment, Rohan didn't mention her blush.
 
Instead, he asked gently,
 
“You must be very proud of Neetu.”
 
Mamta's expression softened instantly.
 
“I am.”
 
There was so much love in those two simple words that Rohan didn't need her to say anything else.
 
He smiled quietly.
 
“She talks about you with so much affection.”
 
Mamta looked at him.
 
“Does she?”
 
“She does.”
 
A gentle smile spread across her face.
 
“That's probably the nicest thing anyone has told me in a long time.”
 
The rest of the drive passed comfortably, filled with light conversation and easy laughter.

[prasannas2001]

 
When they reached her apartment building, Rohan parked the car but made no move to switch off the engine immediately.
 
Neither of them seemed in any hurry to end the conversation.
 
A comfortable silence settled between them.
 
Mamta finally turned toward him.
 
“Thank you, Rohan.”
 
“For what?”
 
“For carrying all those heavy pots…”
 
She smiled.
 
“…and for making a simple trip to the nursery unexpectedly enjoyable.”
 
He smiled back.
 
“I should be thanking you.”
 
She looked at him curiously.
 
“Why?”
 
“I came here thinking I was going to learn about roses.”
 
“And?”
 
“I ended up discovering they weren't the most beautiful thing in the nursery.”
 
The words escaped before he could stop them.
 
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
 
Mamta blinked.
 
Then she lowered her eyes, a rosy blush slowly spreading across her cheeks.
 
“You're quite a charmer,” she murmured, trying to sound composed despite the smile threatening to appear.
 
“I wasn't trying to charm you.”
 
“No?”
 
“No.”
 
He smiled softly.
 
“I was just being honest.”
 
She looked at him again.
 
Their eyes met.
 
This time neither of them looked away immediately.
 
Mamta was the first to break the silence.
 
“I should go.”
 
“Probably.”
 
“But…”
 
She hesitated.
 
“…thank you.”
 
He nodded.
 
“I hope I'll see you again, Aunty.”
 
The familiar word sounded different now.
 
Warmer.
 
More intimate.
 
Almost teasing.
 
Mamta smiled knowingly.
 
“I have a feeling,” she said softly as she reached for the door handle,
 
“…you'll find another excuse to visit a nursery.”
 
Rohan laughed.
 
“I might.”
 
She looked back at him one last time.
 
“Next time…”
 
She paused, her smile widening just a little.
 
“…try not to pretend you know nothing about roses.”
 
He grinned.
 
“Then I'd lose my best excuse to ask for your help.”
 
A soft laugh escaped her lips.
 
She shook her head, her cheeks still faintly pink.
 
“You really do need more practice.”
 
“With gardening?”
 
“With flirting.”
 
He placed a hand over his heart in mock surrender.
 
“Then I hope you'll be patient enough to teach me.”

[Jayam Ramana]

Mamta might have seen many men like rohan and knows how to handle

[NityaSakti]

Mamta might have seen many men like rohan and knows how to handle

She has fallen for him already. Unable to admit

[prasannas2001]

 
Mamta laughed again, unable to hide her smile now.
 
“Goodbye, Rohan.”
 
“See you soon, Mamta Aunty.”
 
She stepped out of the car, closed the door gently, and walked toward the apartment entrance.
 
Halfway to the building, she found herself smiling for no reason at all.
 
Behind the steering wheel, Rohan watched her until she disappeared inside.
 
The mission had gone exactly as planned.
 
But somewhere between the roses, the laughter, and the lingering glances, he realized he had stopped pretending.
 
Every compliment he had given her...
 
...had been completely sincere.
 
 
 
The plan had worked better than he had dared to hope.
 
He had earned her trust.
 
He had made her laugh.
 
He had watched the soft blush bloom across her cheeks more than once.
 
Every step had brought him closer to the answers he was searching for.
 
But as he sat alone in the parked car, watching Mamta disappear into the apartment building, an uncomfortable realization settled over him.
 
By every measure, the day had been a success.
 
One thought lingered stubbornly in his mind.
 
Somewhere between the roses, the shared laughter, and those lingering glances...
 
The longing he had once was just starting now overpowered him.

And now he came to a state that he could not wait for his next opportunity to meet her again.
 
He know his thoughts were becoming dangerously real.

He can see his victory coming very soon. 

He is very excited for the reward he is going to for his victory, Mamta, Neetu's mother. He could not wait for that day. 

 

[prasannas2001]

Mamta might have seen many men like rohan and knows how to handle

Thank you for your feedback. 

[prasannas2001]

She has fallen for him already. Unable to admit

Thank you for your message. Yes, you are 100% correct.

[prasannas2001]

Next opportunity did not come by itself. 

He started this. A week later, it was time for the next move. 

The "invitation." 

He called Neetu. 

"Hey, I was just thinking... I owe your mom big time for helping me with the rose. I want to thank her properly. I'm a pretty good cook, you know. How about I invite myself over for dinner on Friday? I'll make pasta. My famous recipe."

Neetu hesitated. "Rohan, I don't know..."

"Come on, Neetu," he coaxed, his voice turning persuasive, a hint of the night in the hallway creeping into his tone. 

"It's just a friendly dinner. To say thank you. Don't you want me to be friends with your mom? It would make things... so much easier. For everyone."

The veiled threat was clear. 

Neetu sighed, defeated. "Okay. I'll ask her. But you have to be on your best behavior."


"Always," he promised, a triumphant smile on his face.






Friday evening arrived with the comforting aroma of garlic, butter, and fresh basil drifting through Mamta's apartment.
 
The dining table had been cleared to make room for ingredients that Rohan had insisted on bringing himself. Fresh vegetables, herbs, different cheeses, olive oil, and neatly labeled containers covered almost every inch of the countertop.
 
Mamta watched him with amused curiosity.
 
"I thought you said you were making pasta."
 
Rohan looked up from the chopping board.
 
"I am."
 
She glanced across the impressive collection of ingredients.
 
"This looks like you're opening an Italian restaurant."
 
He grinned.
 
"I have a reputation to protect."
 
Mamta folded her arms.
 
"And who exactly gave you this reputation?"
 
"I did."
 
She laughed.
 
"I appreciate your confidence."
 
"It's one of my better qualities."
 
"We'll see."
 
Just then Neetu entered the kitchen, picked up a slice of cucumber from the cutting board and popped it into her mouth.
 
"So... should I be helping?"
 
Rohan looked at the overflowing counter.
 
"You could."
 
Neetu smiled hopefully.
 
"Really?"
 
"No."
 
She frowned.
 
"You'd only slow me down."
 
Mamta covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
 
Neetu rolled her eyes dramatically.
 
"Fine. I'll sit in the living room."
 
As she walked away, she looked back once.
 
"If anything catches fire, call me."
 
"The only thing burning," Rohan replied without looking up, "is my determination to impress your mother."
 
Neetu groaned.
 
"Oh God..."
 
Mamta shook her head, smiling despite herself.
 
"She's never going to let me forget that."
 
As Neetu disappeared into the living room with her laptop, the apartment suddenly became much quieter.
 
Only the gentle music playing from Rohan's phone and the rhythmic sound of his knife against the chopping board filled the room.
 
Mamta stood beside him, watching his hands move with surprising confidence.
 
"I have to admit..."
 
He looked sideways.
 
"...I'm impressed."
 
"Already?"
 
"I expected chaos."
 
"You expected me to order food and pretend I cooked it?"
 
She smiled.
 
"I did consider that possibility."
 
"I'm hurt."
 
"Not very."
 
He laughed.  

He is happy, as his plan is working fine and Mamta is talking to him very comfortably 

[prasannas2001]

 
"I practiced this recipe for three weekends." Rohan continued the conversation.
 
"You practiced?"
 
"I couldn't risk disappointing my toughest critic."
 
She looked at him in surprise.
 
"Who's that?"
 
He met her eyes for just a moment.
 
"You."
 
The answer was delivered so casually that it took Mamta a second to process it.
 
"Me?"
 
"You know good food."
 
"And how would you know that?"
 
"Because someone who appreciates poetry and roses usually appreciates good cooking too."
 
She smiled, lowering her eyes for a moment.
 
"You remember everything."
 
"I remember interesting things."
 
There was a brief silence.
 
Mamta reached for a tomato beside him.
 
"I'll help."
 
He stepped slightly aside to make room.
 
"Deal."
 
For several minutes they worked comfortably together.
 
She chopped herbs.
 
He stirred the sauce.
 
Occasionally one of them would ask for an ingredient before realizing it was already in the other's hand.
 
Their movements gradually settled into an easy rhythm.
 
"You've done this before," she observed.
 
"My mother made sure I learned."
 
"That's unusual."
 
"So I've been told."
 
She glanced at him.
 
"You don't seem like someone who minds helping."
 
"I don't."
 
"Most young men your age disappear when dishes appear."
 
"I disappear when algebra appears."
 
She laughed.
 
"So mathematics is your weakness?"
 
"No."
 
He smiled.
 
"Only beautiful women asking difficult questions."
 
Mamta looked at him for a heartbeat before looking back at the cutting board.
 
"You always know exactly what to say."
 
"Not always."
 
"No?"
 
"Sometimes I think of the perfect reply..."
 
He stirred the sauce thoughtfully.
 
"...about five minutes too late."
 
She smiled.
 
"I find that hard to believe."
 
"It's true."
 
"What about now?"
 
"Now?"
 
"Have you thought of the perfect reply?"
 
He turned toward her with an easy smile.
 
"I think I'm still trying to think of one."
 
She laughed softly.
 
"You are impossible."
 
"I've heard that before."
 
"Often?"
 
"Only from people who secretly like talking to me."
 
Mamta raised an eyebrow.
 
"That's a very convenient theory."
 
"So far no one has proved me wrong."

[prasannas2001]

 
She reached for the bowl of chopped basil at the same moment he reached for it.
 
Their hands touched.
 
Both paused.
 
It lasted a few moments.
 
Neither spoke.
 
Mamta withdrew her hand first.
 
"You take it."
 
He accepted the bowl quietly.
 
"Thank you."
 
She nodded, suddenly finding the arrangement of the herbs intensely interesting.
 
To break the silence she asked,
 
"So... how did an engineering student become interested in cooking?"
 
"My mother says cooking teaches patience."
 
"And does it?"
 
"It does."
 
"What else?"
 
He smiled.
 
"It teaches you that timing matters."
 
"That's true."
 
"And..."
 
 
 
He looked at her, his smile softer now.
 
"...the best things usually can't be rushed."
 
For a brief moment, the words seemed to hang in the warm kitchen air.
 
Mamta held his gaze.
 
She wasn't naïve.
 
She had lived long enough to recognize when a conversation was no longer just about cooking.
 
There was a quiet warmth in his eyes that told her those words carried more meaning than they appeared to. They could have been about the pasta slowly simmering on the stove...
 
...or they could have been about something else entirely.
 
For years, she had lived a disciplined life, spending months at a time away from her husband while he worked abroad, seeing him only a handful of times each year. Never once had she allowed herself to blur the boundaries of her marriage, no matter how lonely the days had sometimes felt.
 
Yet now, standing beside Rohan in her small kitchen, she found herself unexpectedly aware of the way he looked at her.
 
It wasn't bold.
 
It wasn't disrespectful.
 
It was simply... attentive.
 
And somehow, that made it harder to ignore.

[prasannas2001]

 
Mamta lowered her eyes first, pretending to check the saucepan as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
 
"You're becoming quite philosophical for an engineering student," she said with a gentle smile, carefully steering the conversation back toward safer ground.
 
Rohan's smile widened just a fraction.
 
"Maybe," he replied. "Or maybe I'm just talking to someone who makes me think a little more before I speak."
 
A faint blush warmed her cheeks again.
 
She busied herself with the herbs, hoping he hadn't noticed.
 
He had.
 
For a moment neither of them said anything.
 
The sauce simmered gently on the stove.
 
Outside, evening light filtered through the kitchen window, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.
 
Rohan finally broke the silence.
 
"I'm glad I came."
 
Mamta smiled.
 
"So am I."
 
The words slipped out before she had time to think.
 
She blinked, slightly embarrassed by her own honesty.
 
"I mean..."
 
She laughed quietly.
 
"...it's been a lovely evening."
 
"It has."
 
He tasted the sauce, then held out the wooden spoon.
 
"Would you?"
 
She hesitated.
 
"Taste it?"
 
"I need expert approval."
 
She accepted the spoon, sampled the sauce, and thought for a moment.
 
"It's very good."
 
"Very good?"
 
She nodded.
 
"I was expecting you to say excellent."
 
She laughed.
 
"I don't hand out compliments that easily."
 
"So there's room for improvement?"
 
"Always."
 
He smiled.
 
"I'll just have to cook for you again."
 
Mamta looked at him, amused.
 
"You've planned quite far ahead."
 
"I like having goals."
 
She shook her head, unable to suppress another smile.
 
"You're persistent."
 
"Only when I think something is worth the effort."
 
She looked at him for a long moment before quietly returning the spoon.
 
"I suppose persistence isn't always a bad quality."
 
Before either of them could say anything more, Neetu's voice floated in from the living room.
 
"Are you two making dinner or writing a cookbook?"
 
Mamta laughed first.
 
Rohan followed.
 
The spell was gently broken, but the warmth of those few quiet minutes in the kitchen stayed with both of them long after dinner was served.

[prasannas2001]

 
The late-night conversation began almost by accident.
 
After dinner, the apartment slowly settled into silence.
 
The plates had been cleared. The kitchen was clean.
 
The laughter from earlier had faded into the comfortable quiet of an ordinary evening.
 
At around nine, Neetu finally closed her books with a frustrated sigh.
 
“I give up,” Neetu announced.
 
Mamta looked at her daughter.
 
“On studying?”
 
“No,” Neetu replied. “On pretending I can study while my brain is already tired.”
 
Rohan smiled.
 
“That sounds like a very honest strategy.”
 
Neetu pointed at him.
 
“Don't encourage me.”
 
“I’m just appreciating your honesty.”
 
“Both of you are impossible,” she said, shaking her head.
 
She gathered her books and walked toward her room.
 
“I have an exam on Monday. If I fail, I’m blaming both of you.”
 
Mamta laughed.
 
“You blame everyone except yourself.”
 
“That is also a strategy.”
 
As Neetu disappeared into her room, the apartment became quieter.
 
Not empty.
 
Just quieter.
 
Mamta returned from the kitchen carrying two cups of chai.
 
She placed one in front of Rohan.
 
“You survived an entire evening with my daughter. This is your reward.”
 
Rohan accepted the cup.
 
“I think I already received the reward.”
 
Mamta looked at him.
 
“What?”
 
He smiled.
 
“You… I mean… the conversation with you.”
 
She looked away for a moment, pretending to adjust the cushion beside her.
 
It was such a simple sentence.
 
Nothing improper.
 
Nothing that she could object to.
 
And yet, she noticed it.
 
She had spent years being appreciated for what she did.
 
The meals she prepared.
 
The responsibilities she handled.
 
The problems she solved.
 
But it was rare for someone to appreciate simply sitting with her.
 
She took a sip of tea.
 
“You always find interesting ways to answer.”
 
“Maybe because you ask interesting questions.”

[prasannas2001]

 
A small smile appeared on Mamta’s face.
 
“You are very confident.”
 
“I’m learning.”
 
“From whom?”
 
He looked at her.
 
The answer came easily.
 
“People who know how to make ordinary things beautiful.”
 
For a second, Mamta forgot what she was going to say.
 
Then she smiled softly.
 
“You really should be careful with your words.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Because you make simple things sound complicated.”
 
Rohan smiled.
 
“Maybe those simple things deserve more attention.” He said looking at her breasts.
 
Mamta didn’t notice where he was looking.
 
The sentence was harmless.
 
But Mamta heard the second meaning.
 
She didn't know if he intended it.
 
Or perhaps she only noticed it because some part of her was beginning to listen differently.
 
She looked down at her cup.
 
That thought surprised her.
 
 
 
A few minutes passed.
 
The conversation moved naturally, from college stories to old movies, from food to memories.
 
Then Rohan became quiet.
 
Not uncomfortable.
 
Thoughtful.
 
“Can I ask you something, Aunty?”
 
Mamta looked at him.
 
“Of course.”
 
He hesitated.
 
Not because he didn't know what he wanted to ask.
 
Because he wanted to ask it without making it sound like an accusation.
 
“Do you ever miss the person you used to be?”
 
The question caught her completely off guard.
 
“The person I used to be?”
 
He nodded.
 
“Before you became responsible for everyone else.”
 
Mamta remained silent.
 
She looked toward the window.
 
Outside, the city lights flickered quietly, each one carrying a story of its own.
 
For years, people had asked her if she was happy.
 
She had always answered yes.
 
Because she was.
 
She loved her family.
 
She loved Neetu.
 
She respected her husband.
 
She was grateful for the life they had built together.
 
But happiness was not always the same as being understood.
 
After a moment, Rohan spoke again, his voice softer.
 
“Do you ever miss him?”
 
Mamta turned back toward him.
 
“Who?”
 
“Your husband.”

[Sarvesh Siva]

Awesome update

Marry me secretly, i will show you the real happiness

[prasannas2001]

Rohan spoke with a softer voice. “Do you ever miss your husband?”
 
The question surprised her.
 
Not because it was inappropriate.
 
But because nobody had asked her that in a very long time.
 
She looked down at her cup.
 
“That is a complicated question.”
 
“Why?”
 
She smiled faintly.
 
“Because the answer is both yes and no.”
 
Rohan listened quietly.
 
“I miss him as a person,” she said. “I miss having him around. I miss sharing small things with him. Sometimes I wish he was here to see little moments of our life instead of only hearing about them later.”
 
She paused.
 
“But he has always worked hard for us. He has given us a comfortable life. I know he loves us.”
 
Rohan nodded.
 
“I can tell.”
 
Mamta looked at him.
 
“But?”
 
He didn't finish the sentence.
 
He let her decide if she wanted to.
 
She looked away.
 
“Sometimes distance changes things.”
 
Her voice became softer.
 
“Not love. Not respect.”
 
She paused.
 
“Just... the little things.”
 
“What little things?”
 
“The conversations at the end of the day. Someone noticing when you are tired. Someone asking what you are thinking about.”
 
The words came out more honestly than she expected.
 
She immediately became aware of how much she had revealed.
 
Rohan did notice the dissatisfaction in her voice.
 
He could understand that she is opening up.
 
He is imagining her in his arms.
 
He is imagining making out with her in the very sofa in the same living room very soon.
 
He simply said,
 
“I think everyone deserves to feel seen.”
 
That sentence stayed with her.
 
She looked at him quietly.
 
Then she smiled a little.
 
“I suppose everyone changes.”
 
“You think so?”
 
“Yes.”
 
She looked around the apartment.