Adultery Seduction of My Wife Padma (UPDATED 30-DEC-25)

[sharath841]

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[sharath841]

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Videos?? Can any body help me in this regard am creating images and uploading in imgBB then sharing the link is there anyway I can share direct images..?

[Runer]

Videos?? Can any body help me in this regard am creating images and uploading in imgBB then sharing the link is there anyway I can share direct images..?

I don't know how to create images

[sharath841]

I don't know how to create images

Now check for images and what about video links

[Runer]

Now check for images and what about video links

Ab thik hay. Images dikh raha hay

[sharath841]

Please share your comments and suggestions for any improvements. Your feedback is the only encouragement we need.

[sharath841]

The Temple Encounter
Sunday morning, Padma visited a nearby temple.
After finishing her prayer, she stepped outside and adjusted the edge of her saree.
Then she noticed Rajan near the entrance.
He wasn’t alone.
Beside him stood a woman Padma had never seen before. She was elegant and effortlessly polished, with long, beautifully styled brown-highlighted hair, subtle professional makeup, manicured nails, tasteful jewellery, and a fashionable outfit that was clearly expensive without being flashy. She carried herself with the ease and confidence of someone accustomed to a comfortable, affluent life.
Padma became suddenly aware of her own simple saree and the slightly faded edge she had just smoothed down.
Rajan noticed her.
? Rajan: “Padma?”
Padma stopped.
? Padma: “Rajan…”
The woman looked between them.
? Ananya: “You know each other?”
Rajan smiled.
? Rajan: “Yes. We studied at the same college.”
He turned toward the woman.
? Rajan: “Padma, this is Ananya.”
? Ananya: “Hi, Padma. We’ve heard about each other, apparently.”
Padma smiled politely.
? Padma: “Nice to meet you.”
Ananya returned the smile.
? Ananya: “Nice to meet you too.”
There was an easy familiarity between Rajan and Ananya—small smiles, quick glances, the comfortable way they spoke to each other, sometimes even finishing each other’s sentences without effort.
From near the steps, Rajan’s mother called out.
? Rajan’s mother: “Rajan, Ananya, come. We’re getting late.”
Padma noticed that.
The way his mother called both their names together made their relationship suddenly feel more real.
? Rajan: “We should go.”
He looked at Padma.
? Rajan: “Take care.”
? Padma: “You too.”
Rajan and Ananya walked away together.
Padma watched them for a moment before leaving.
She didn’t think much more about it.
At least, not yet.

[sharath841]

Ananya came out of the trial room wearing the saree she had chosen. She looked at herself in the mirror, then noticed Padma standing nearby.
? Ananya: “Padma, right?”
Padma smiled politely.
? Padma: “Yes.”
Ananya walked over with an easy smile.
? Ananya: “I’m Ananya. We met at the temple.”
? Padma: “Yes, I remember.”
Ananya looked at the saree Padma was holding.
? Ananya: “You’re choosing this one?”
? Padma: “Yes. I wanted something simple.”
Ananya nodded.
? Ananya: “It’s nice. Actually, you look very elegant in simple sarees.”
Padma smiled, slightly embarrassed.
Ananya suddenly lifted her phone.
? Ananya: “Come, let’s take a selfie.”
Padma hesitated.
? Padma: “Selfie?”
? Ananya: “Of course. First proper meeting!”
Before Padma could object, Ananya stood beside her and took a quick selfie of the two of them.
She looked at the picture and smiled.
? Ananya: “Nice!”
Then, almost casually, she said:
? Ananya: “You know, Rajan has told me about you.”
Padma’s smile faded slightly.
? Padma: “About me?”
? Ananya: “Yes. Apparently, you’re someone he remembers very well.”
Padma didn’t know what to say.
Ananya continued, completely unaware of the effect her words were having.
? Ananya: “He even told me about you and your husband. Mohan, right?”
Padma nodded slowly.
? Padma: “Yes.”
Ananya smiled.
? Ananya: “Don’t worry. He hasn’t said anything bad. He just told me that you both have an interesting history.”
Padma glanced toward Rajan.
He was speaking to a salesperson a few metres away.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Rajan immediately understood that Ananya had been talking to Padma.
Padma looked away.
Ananya slipped her phone back into her handbag.

ANANYA : Pic : 


? Ananya: “Anyway, I’m glad I finally met you properly.”
? Padma: “Me too.”
Ananya smiled warmly.
? Ananya: “Maybe sometime we can go shopping together. You can help me choose sarees.”
Padma gave a polite smile.
? Padma: “Maybe.”
Ananya walked back toward Rajan.

Ananya: “Rajan, what do you think of this one?”
Rajan immediately went over to her, helping her compare it with another saree the salesperson had brought.
Padma watched for a moment before turning her attention back to the shelves.
A few minutes later, Rajan noticed a saree hanging nearby.
It was a black party-wear saree, elegant and striking, with a fine shimmering finish and a narrow designer border.
He picked it up and walked toward Padma.
? Rajan: “Try this one.”
Padma looked at it and immediately shook her head.
? Padma: “No. That’s not my type.”
? Rajan: “Why?”
? Padma: “It’s too much for me.”
Rajan held it against her from a little distance, looking at how the colour would fall against her complexion.
? Rajan: “It would suit you. Especially on your figure.”
But put With high heel footwear and Padma frowned slightly.
? Rajan: “And for a night occasion, it would look really good.”
? Padma: “I said no, Rajan.”
He smiled faintly.
? Rajan: “You should step out of your shell sometimes, Padma. Modern cuts, sleeveless blouses… even jeans and skirts. Ananya wears all kinds of styles.”
Padma looked at him firmly.
? Padma: “Then let Ananya wear them. I’m comfortable with what I wear.”
Rajan didn’t argue.
? Rajan: “Fair enough.”
From the trial room, Ananya called out.
? Ananya: “Rajan?”
? Rajan: “Coming.”
He placed the black saree over the counter and walked toward her.
Soon he was standing outside the trial room, helping Ananya decide between two sarees, commenting on the colours and looking at the designs with her.
Padma quietly moved away.
She went to another floor of the store.
The second floor was quieter.

Padma slowly walked through the rows of sarees until she found one that immediately felt more like her.

It was simple, elegant and moderate—a beautiful everyday-to-occasion saree with a tasteful border and just enough detailing to make it special without looking extravagant.

She held it against herself.

She liked it.

“This one,” she murmured.

She looked around.

Rajan and Ananya weren’t there.

Apparently, they had already left.

Padma took the saree downstairs and went to the billing counter.

After completing her billing, she paused.

Her eyes wandered toward the section where the black saree Rajan had shown her was displayed.

She hesitated.

Then she turned toward the salesperson.

? Padma: “That black saree… the one that gentleman showed me earlier. Can you show it to me once?”

The salesperson smiled and brought it down.

Up close, Padma was surprised.

The saree had a soft, shimmering finish that caught the light without looking cheap. A large photograph beside the display showed a glamorous model wearing the same saree at an evening event.

Padma stared at it.

It looked completely different from how she had imagined it.

? Padma: “Can I see the blouse piece?”

The salesperson brought it out.

But it wasn’t a conventional blouse piece.

It had a more elaborate designer pattern.

? Padma: “This is the blouse?”

?‍? Salesperson: “Yes, madam. This saree comes with this design. You need a good designer blouse for it. It won’t look the same with a normal blouse.”

Padma looked at the design carefully.

The salesperson explained:

?‍? Salesperson: “These designs are mostly worn with sleeveless or slightly deeper-neck designer blouses. That’s why they are popular for parties and evening functions.”

Padma imagined herself wearing it.

Then immediately imagined where she could possibly wear something like that.

A family function?

A wedding?

A dinner?

She couldn’t picture herself in it.

She almost handed it back.

Then she remembered Rajan holding it up and saying:

Especially on a night occasion.

She frowned at herself.
Why was she even thinking about what he had said?

Padma looked at the saree again.

It was elegant, completely different from what she normally wore.

She imagined herself wearing it for a moment, then quickly pushed the thought aside.

She almost handed it back.

But something made her pause.

She looked at the saree once more.

? Padma: “Pack it.”

The salesperson carefully folded the saree and placed it in the bag.

Padma took the bag and walked out of the shop.

She still wasn’t sure why she had bought it.

Perhaps she simply liked the saree.
Or perhaps, somewhere in the back of her mind, she wanted to know what Rajan had seen when he held it against her. And she went to designer 

[sharath841]

After purchasing the saree, Padma headed straight to a designer boutique in Bangalore. She carried the saree carefully with her as she walked into the boutique.
The place was elegant and spacious, with fabric samples, blouse patterns, and designer sketches displayed along the walls.
A designer greeted her.
Designer: “Welcome, ma’am.
Padma: “Yes. I’ve already selected the saree. I just need the blouse to be designed for it.”
The designer carefully opened the saree and examined its colour, embroidery, and fabric.
Designer: “Beautiful choice. Who selected it.. a fashion designer? Because this a designer’s choice this look so elegantly on you . Have you decided what kind of blouse you want?”
Padma frowned as the question asked who selected it ?!! She shook her head.
Padma: “Not exactly. I want something different. It should complement the saree, but the blouse itself should stand out.”
The designer brought out a few design books and sketches.
Designer: “We can try a classic cut, a contemporary design, or something more dramatic for an evening occasion.”
Padma sat down and began going through the designs one by one.
She stopped at a particular sketch.
Padma: “This one… I like this.”
The designer looked at it carefully.
Designer: “We can customise this design according to your saree. The neckline, sleeves, back design and embroidery can all be changed.”
Padma looked at herself in the mirror, imagining the finished outfit.
Padma: “I want it elegant… but I also want it to make the saree look completely different.”
The designer smiled.
Designer: “Then let’s design the blouse around you, rather than simply matching the saree.”
Padma smiled.
Padma: “Exactly. That’s what I want.”

The designer looked at the saree again and smiled.
Designer: “This saree is beautiful, but I think the right blouse will make it look even better on you.”
Padma smiled.
Padma: “That’s what I’m hoping for.”
He studied the fabric for a moment.
Designer: “You have a very graceful presence. So I wouldn’t suggest anything too complicated. Something elegant will suit you better.”
Padma looked at the sketches.
Padma: “You think so?”
Designer: “Definitely. The colour already complements your complexion nicely. We just need to get the cut and fitting right.”
He picked up his measuring tape.
Designer: “We’ll keep the design refined. Once the blouse is fitted properly, the whole saree will come together beautifully.”
Padma glanced at herself in the mirror and smiled.

The designer picked up his measuring tape and opened his measurement book.
Designer: “Shall we start with the measurements?”
Padma nodded and stood near the fitting area.
He first measured her shoulder width and noted.
Designer: “Your proportions are quite well balanced. That makes designing the blouse much easier.”
Padma smiled slightly.
He continued with the armhole, sleeve length, and blouse length, checking each measurement twice before writing it down.
Designer: “I think we’ll make sleeve less. Your saree already has enough detailing, so the blouse shouldn’t compete with it.”
He measured around the required areas for the blouse fitting and recorded the numbers.
Designer: “The fitting is important here. If we get that right, the blouse will sit beautifully when you dbang the saree.”
Padma looked at the design sketch.
Padma: “And the neckline?”

The designer studied the saree and the sketch for a moment before making a few changes to the neckline.
Designer: “For this particular saree, I wouldn’t keep the neckline too high. It will look much better with a deeper cut.”
Padma looked at the sketch.
Padma: “That deep?”
He nodded.
Designer: “Yes. At least this much. Otherwise the blouse will look too ordinary with this saree. The deeper neckline will balance the embroidery and give the whole look a more elegant evening feel.”
Padma remained quiet for a moment, looking at the design.
Designer: “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the shape clean and sophisticated. The fitting and finishing will make the difference.”
Padma finally nodded.
Padma: “Alright. Let’s go with your design.”
He marked the neckline measurement in his sketchbook and continued with the fitting measurements.

The designer studied the saree and the sketch for a moment before making a few changes to the neckline.
Designer: “For this particular saree, I wouldn’t keep the neckline too high. It will look much better with a deeper cut.”
Padma looked at the sketch.
Padma: “That deep?”
He nodded.
Designer: “Yes. At least this much. Otherwise the blouse will look too ordinary with this saree. The deeper neckline will balance the embroidery and give the whole look a more elegant evening feel.”
Padma remained quiet for a moment, looking at the design.
Designer: “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the shape clean and sophisticated. The fitting and finishing will make the difference.”
Padma finally nodded.
Padma: “Alright. Let’s go with your design.”
He marked the neckline measurement in his sketchbook and continued with the fitting measurements.
Designer: “We’ll make the trial blouse first. You can check the neckline and overall fitting, and we’ll adjust anything you want before the final stitching.”

Padma nodded approvingly. “That’s perfect.”

[sharath841]

By the time Padma reached home, the evening light had already begun to fade.
She placed her handbag on the table and carefully kept the shopping bag beside it.
Mohan was sitting on the sofa, looking through something on his phone.
He looked up.
? Mohan: “You’re back.”
? Padma: “Hmm.”
He noticed the new shopping bag.
? Mohan: “You bought something?”
Padma nodded.
? Padma: “A saree.”
Mohan smiled.
? Mohan: “Let me see.”
She hesitated for a moment before taking the saree out.
Mohan unfolded part of it.
It was the elegant black party-wear saree Rajan had selected earlier.
His expression changed slightly.
? Mohan: “This is different from what you normally buy.”
? Padma: “I know.”
? Mohan: “It’s beautiful.”
Padma looked at the saree rather than at him.
? Padma: “I wasn’t planning to buy it.”
? Mohan: “Then what happened?”
She paused.
There was no reason to hide the truth.

Padma: “I liked it.” She lied !! 

Mohan: “You should wear it sometime.”
Padma looked at the saree for a moment.
? Padma: “Maybe for dinner or some evening function.”
She folded it again and placed it neatly on the sofa.
Mohan noticed that she seemed slightly distracted.
? Mohan: “Everything okay?”
Padma looked at him.
? Padma: “Yes. Why?”
? Mohan: “You seem quiet.”
She smiled.
? Padma: “Just tired. The shop was crowded.”
She picked up the saree and walked toward the bedroom.
But as she entered, her eyes fell once more on the black fabric.
For a brief moment, she remembered Rajan holding it up in the shop. 
It would suit your figure.
She immediately pushed the thought away.

She placed the saree inside the cupboard and closed the door.

She didn’t tell Mohan about that moment.
Some things, she felt, were better left inside her own thoughts.

[sharath841]

After keeping the saree in her cupboard, Padma couldn’t stop thinking about it.
A little later, while Mohan was in the living room, she opened the cupboard again.
She took the black saree out.
She spread it across the bed and looked at it carefully.
The subtle shimmer caught the bedroom light.
Padma ran her fingers over the fabric.
? Padma: “Let’s see how you actually look…”
She changed into the saree and stood in front of the mirror.

At first, she felt slightly awkward.
It was different from the sarees she normally wore. The darker colour and understated shimmer gave her a more sophisticated appearance.
She adjusted the pleats.
Then the pallu.
She stepped back and looked at herself from a distance.
For a few seconds, she simply stared.
She wasn’t wearing heavy jewellery—just her mangalya chain, small earrings and watch.
Yet the saree itself made her look different.
Padma turned slightly toward the mirror.
Then she adjusted the pallu again.
? Padma: “Maybe it isn’t too much…”
She smiled faintly at her reflection.

Padma came out of the bedroom wearing the black saree with a simple, well-fitted blouse that complemented it perfectly. She had kept everything else understated—her mangalya chain, small earrings and watch.
She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the pallu one last time.
Mohan looked at her and smiled.
? Mohan: “Beautiful.”
Padma glanced at him.
Then he added, almost casually:
? Mohan: “This really suits you. Especially on your figure.”
Padma suddenly went still.
For a moment, she didn’t hear anything else.
The words had taken her straight back to the shopping.
Rajan standing a few feet away.
The black saree in his hands.
“This suits you.”
Then—
“Especially on your figure.”
Padma’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the pallu.
She looked at herself and asked Mohan what did you say ?

? Mohan: “What happened?”
Padma quickly shook her head.
? Padma: “Nothing.”
She smiled faintly.
? Padma: “I was just looking at the saree.”
But her mind had already returned to that moment in the shop.
She hadn’t told Mohan that Rajan had said those exact words.
And now, hearing them from her husband, the memory felt strangely vivid.
Padma looked away from the mirror.
For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

[sharath841]

A few days later, Padma went to the designer boutique to collect the blouse being prepared for her new saree.
While she was waiting, she heard a familiar voice.
? Ananya: “Padma?”
Padma turned.
? Padma: “Ananya!”
Ananya smiled and walked over.
? Ananya: “What are you doing here?”
? Padma: “I gave my saree for a blouse design. I’m here to check the fitting.”
Ananya looked at her saree appreciatively.
? Ananya: “You always choose such elegant things.”
Padma smiled.
? Padma: “And you always choose the opposite.”
Ananya laughed.
? Ananya: “That’s true!”
Their conversation became surprisingly easy.
They talked about sarees, blouse designs, shopping and the difficulty of finding a good designer.
After a while, Ananya checked her phone.
? Ananya: “Rajan is coming to pick me up.”
Padma simply nodded.
A few minutes later, Rajan entered the boutique.
He stopped briefly when he saw Padma standing beside Ananya.
? Rajan: “Padma.”
? Padma: “Rajan.”
Ananya looked between them.
? Ananya: “See? Now we are three. Let’s have coffee before we leave.”
Padma immediately tried to decline.
? Padma: “No, it’s okay. I should get home.”
? Ananya: “Just one coffee. Come on.”
Padma hesitated.
Ananya smiled and lightly insisted.
? Ananya: “Please. We were already talking. Don’t disappear now.”
Eventually Padma agreed.

[sharath841]

At the Coffee Shop
They sat together at a quiet table.
Ananya and Padma continued their conversation while Rajan mostly listened.

There was no obvious tension.
After finishing her coffee, Ananya suddenly stood.
? Ananya: “I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.”
She walked away.
Padma remained seated.
Rajan sat across from her.
For the first time since their meeting, they were alone together.
There was a brief silence.
Neither spoke.
Padma looked down at her coffee.
Rajan watched her for a moment, then quietly said:
? Rajan: “You seem different lately.”
Padma looked up.
? Padma: “Different how?”
And that’s where you can begin their private conversation—without Padma initiating it and without immediately making the scene romantic. The tension can come entirely from what Rajan says and how Padma responds.

Rajan held her gaze for a moment before answering.
? Rajan: “You seem more confident.”
Padma looked slightly puzzled.
? Padma: “I don’t think I’ve changed.”
? Rajan: “Maybe you haven’t noticed.”
Padma took a sip of her coffee.
? Padma: “You notice too much.”
Rajan smiled faintly.
? Rajan: “Perhaps.”
There was a short silence.
Padma looked toward the washroom, then back at him.
? Padma: “Ananya seems very nice.”
? Rajan: “She is.”
? Padma: “You both seem happy.”
Rajan nodded.
? Rajan: “We are.”
Padma smiled politely.
? Padma: “Good.”
For a moment, the conversation seemed finished.
Then Rajan leaned back slightly.
? Rajan: “She told me you two became friends today.”
? Padma: “Friends is a big word. We just talked.”
? Rajan: “Ananya likes you.”
Padma smiled.
? Padma: “She’s easy to talk to.”
Rajan looked at her quietly.
? Rajan: “She also told me you bought that black saree.”
Padma’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
She hadn’t expected that.
? Padma: “She noticed?”
? Rajan: “She notices everything.”
Padma looked down at her cup.
? Padma: “I liked it.”
? Rajan: “I’m glad.”
She looked back at him.
? Padma: “Don’t misunderstand. I bought it because I liked it.”
Rajan smiled.
? Rajan: “I didn’t say otherwise.”
Padma studied his face for a moment.
? Padma: “Then why did you bring it up?”
Rajan didn’t answer immediately.
? Rajan: “Because I remembered you saying you would never wear something like that.”
Padma’s eyes narrowed slightly.
? Padma: “You remember everything, don’t you?”

Rajan smiled slowly.
? Rajan: “Only the things worth remembering.”
Padma gave him a warning look.

Padma: “What do you want to remember?”

Rajan’s smile faded.
? Rajan: “Honestly?”
Padma nodded.
? Rajan: “That time when I thought you were finally getting close to me. 
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
?
Rajan: “For a moment, I thought maybe you were beginning to understand me… maybe you were finally going to let me into your world. I imagined we’d become inseparable—lovebirds, really. We’d eat together, laugh together, go everywhere together… and eventually we mate like lovebirds and  share a life of our own.”
Padma’s expression became serious.
? Rajan: “And then, the very next day, everything changed. You pulled away. You became distant.”
He gave a faint, almost sad smile.
? Rajan: “I suppose that’s the disappointment I still remember.”
Padma remained silent.

For a few seconds, she didn’t know what to say.
She hadn’t realized that Rajan had carried that moment with him in such a way.
Her expression softened.
? Padma: “Rajan… I never knew you felt like that.”
He looked at her.

Padma: “I was confused myself. And when I realized where things were going, I stepped back.”
Rajan nodded slowly.
? Rajan: “I know that now.”
Padma looked down at her coffee, visibly affected.
? Padma: “Maybe that’s why I feel bad hearing you say you were disappointed.”
She paused.
? Padma: “But I still had to choose what was right for me.”
Rajan gave a small nod.
? Rajan: “That’s what makes you… you.”

Rajan: “Whatever happened between us… I’ll remember it.”
He paused, his voice quieter.
? Rajan: “I don’t erase memories just because life moves on. I cherish some of them.and those gives me excitement.. even now am getting excitement for you dear .. 
Padma looked at him, visibly affected.
? Rajan: “Sometimes, even when I’m with Ananya, something reminds me of you. A place. A word. The way someone looks at me. And when we are doing I sometimes takes your name in my mind.. 
He gave a faint, almost regretful smile.
? Rajan: “And for a moment, I’m back there again.”
Padma lowered her eyes.
? Padma: she opened her mouth big and  she was frightened to here that  and said “You shouldn’t let the past interfere with what you have now.”
? Rajan: “I know.”
He looked at her.
? Rajan: “But knowing that and forgetting are two different things.”
Padma didn’t answer. She was emotional—not because she wanted to encourage him, but because she was beginning to understand how deeply he had held onto something she had considered part of the past.


Ananya: “Sorry, I took a little longer.”


Padma quickly composed herself and gave her a small smile.

? Padma: “It’s okay.”

Ananya sat down beside Rajan and looked between them.

? Ananya: “So, what did I miss?”

Rajan picked up his coffee calmly.

? Rajan: “Nothing much. We were just talking.”

Ananya smiled.

? Ananya: “About what?”

Padma answered before Rajan could.

? Padma: “Old college memories.”

Ananya looked at Rajan with curiosity.

? Ananya: “Oh, really? You two have so many stories, apparently.”

Rajan smiled faintly.

? Rajan: “A few.”

Ananya looked at Padma warmly.

? Ananya: “I’m actually glad I met you. I feel like I’ve heard your name so many times.”

Padma smiled politely, but there was something different in her expression now.

She glanced at Rajan for only a second.

He noticed.

Ananya didn’t.

Ananya: “So, you bought that black saree?”

Padma nodded.
? Padma: “Yes.”
Ananya smiled.
? Ananya: “I knew you would. It really suits you.”
Padma smiled shyly.
? Padma: “I wasn’t sure at first.”
Ananya glanced at Rajan.
? Ananya: “Rajan was right about this one.”
Padma became slightly conscious and looked down at her coffee.

? Ananya: “It really suits you. You should wear it next time we all meet.”

Padma smiled politely.
? Padma: “We’ll see.”
Ananya laughed softly.
? Ananya: “No, no. I’m serious. Next time, you’re wearing it. I want to see how it looks on you.”
Padma glanced briefly at Rajan before looking back at Ananya.
? Padma: “Okay. Maybe I will.”

Ananya looked at the time on her phone.

? Ananya: “Oh, it’s getting late. We should leave.”
Rajan nodded and called for the bill.
While they waited, Ananya turned toward Padma.
? Ananya: “I’m really glad we met today.”
? Padma: “Me too.”
? Ananya: “Next time, no excuses. Wear that black saree.”
Padma laughed softly.
? Padma: “Okay, okay.”
The bill arrived. Rajan paid it.
They stood up and walked toward the entrance together.
Outside the café, Ananya suddenly remembered something.
? Ananya: “Padma, where are you going?”
? Padma: “I’ll book an auto.”
? Ananya: “No need. We’re going that way. Rajan can drop you.”
Padma immediately shook her head.
? Padma: “It’s okay. I can go.”
Rajan didn’t insist.
? Rajan: “If you’re comfortable, we’ll drop you. Otherwise, we’ll leave you to it.”
Padma considered it for a moment.
? Padma: “It’s fine. I’ll take an auto.”
Ananya smiled and hugged her lightly.
? Ananya: “See you soon.”
? Padma: “See you.”
Padma turned to leave.
For a brief moment, she and Rajan looked at each other.
Neither said anything.
Then Padma walked toward the road.
Rajan watched her for a second before turning back toward Ananya.
Ananya slipped her arm through his.
? Ananya: “Come on.”
They walked toward their car together.
Padma glanced back once before getting into her auto.
She immediately looked forward again.
She didn’t know why she had looked back.
But she knew she would probably think about the afternoon for the rest of the evening.

She reached home, quickly closed the door behind her, and without even taking a moment to settle down, rushed straight toward the bathroom. She was clearly in a hurry and urgently needed to get there and started thinking while sitting on the pot for a while

[sharath841]

That evening, Mohan and Padma were getting ready for an office friend’s party.
Padma had chosen the black saree from the boutique — tissue silk, almost weightless, dark enough to look modest until she moved. It clung at the hips, then fell in a sheer haze. She stood at the full-length mirror finishing her face: a smooth base, kohl drawn a little heavier than usual, a small black bindi, berry on the mouth. Her long hair was down in thick waves over one shoulder, the other side of her neck bare.
The matching blouse was cut deep and fitted close, the back open, collarbones and the upper swell of her chest left visible. Her mangalya chain lay against warm skin. Small gold drops at her ears. A simple watch. Nothing else to interrupt the black.
She drew the pallu loosely over one shoulder so it barely covered her waist, then stepped into the matching heels — thin straps at the ankle, the arch lifted. The fall of the saree changed at once. Silk that had hung straight pulled across her hips and tightened over the curve of her ass, the pleats sitting higher, her waist sharper. She turned once, slowly. The blouse stayed fitted at her ribs; below it the black clung, then broke, and the heels made every shift of her weight look deliberate.
For once she did not look away from herself. She did not feel as if she were wearing someone else’s clothes. She felt beautiful, and she knew it.
Mohan came out of the bedroom fastening his watch and stopped with his hands still on the clasp.
? Mohan: “Padma…”
She found him in the glass. Her mouth curved, slow.
? Padma: “What?”
? Mohan: “Turn around.”
She did. The pallu slipped. Standing in the heels she was taller, closer to his mouth, and the silk moved with her hips instead of hiding them.
He came up behind her. She felt him before he touched her — the pause, the way his eyes travelled the open back, the dip of her waist, the place the saree sat low and tight across her ass.
? Mohan: “You look incredible.” His voice had dropped. “Those heels… everyone is going to watch you walk in. I’m already watching.”
Colour rose in her cheeks. She didn’t lower her eyes, and she didn’t fix the pallu.
? Padma: “Don’t exaggerate…” It came out softer than she meant, almost breath.
He set one hand at her waist, thumb on bare skin just above the silk, and leaned in until his mouth was near the curve of her neck. He didn’t kiss her. He only stayed there, close enough that she felt the warmth of it.
? Mohan: “I’m not exaggerating. If we didn’t have to leave, I wouldn’t let you out of this room.”
For a second she leaned back into him — jasmine, heat, the party already less important than the way he was looking at her in the mirror. Then she picked up her clutch.
? Padma: “Come on. We’ll be late if you keep standing there like that.”
His hand dragged once along her waist, low enough that she felt it, before he stepped away.
? Mohan: “If you walk ahead of me in those, I won’t be thinking about the party.”
? Padma: “Then walk behind me. Quietly.”
They left the bedroom together. In the corridor her heels clicked, unhurried. Each step tipped her hips and set the tissue silk shifting over her ass, the pleats pulling tight, then loosening again. Mohan stayed half a step back and did not look away.
At the lift he went ahead to bring the car around. Padma returned to the apartment, switched off the lights, locked the door, and checked the handle once.
Padma came through the lobby doors in the black heels, and the talk about the wiring died.

Vinay was still pointing at the junction box. He forgot it. The electrician and the other two men turned with him. None of them lowered their voices.

“Arre, dekh kaise chal rahi hai,” Vinay said. “Matak ke. Ek dum matak ke.”

The electrician let out a short breath. “Yeh Mohan sir ki biwi hai na? Padma? Aaj toh poori nikal ke aayi hai. Figure dekho… face alag, body alag.”

She heard her name and kept walking. The pallu had slipped. Tissue silk pulled tight over her hips with every step, then loosened, then pulled again. The heels lifted her ass and made the sway slower, heavier.

“Face toh sundar hai,” the third man said, not quietly. “Par body usse aage nikal gayi. Badi mamme… blouse mein kaise bhare hue hain, upar se gehra cut. Collarbone ke neeche tak nazar jaati hai, aur phir seedha wahin atak jaati hai.”

Vinay’s eyes stayed on the black silk. “Aur peeche dekh. Badi gand. Saree chipki hui hai, chhupa nahi rahi. Matak ke chal rahi hai jaise pata ho hum dekh rahe hain.”

Padma’s ears burned. She did not turn. Her clutch was tight in one hand. Each click of the heel set her hips shifting again, and she knew the silk was doing exactly what they were saying — clinging, lifting, showing the round of her ass and the full line of her chest under the deep blouse.

The electrician laughed under his breath. “Kaam rehne de, Vinay. Jab tak yeh gate tak jaayegi, wiring yaad nahi rahegi. Itni badi mamme, itni badi gand, aur chal bhi aisi… yar, aise kaun ghoomta hai shaam ko.”
She reached the gate. Mohan’s car was turning into the drive. Behind her the four of them were still watching, still talking, their voices carrying over the stone — matak, figure, face, the blouse, the ass the heels would not let the saree hide. She heard every word, and she did not walk any faster.
Padma settled in the car, carefully arranging the black saree so the pleats wouldn’t get caught under her.

Mohan started the car.

For the first few minutes, he kept glancing at her with a smile.

? Padma: “Why do you keep looking at me?”

? Mohan: “Because you look beautiful.”

She smiled and looked out the window.

? Mohan: “Seriously, Padma. The saree, the blouse, your makeup… everything looks perfect together.”

? Padma: “Enough. You’re making me embarrassed.”

? Mohan: “I’m just telling you the truth.”

She laughed softly.

As they drove through the evening traffic, Mohan continued complimenting her occasionally, while Padma tried to change the subject, her heart beating just a little faster under the weight of his continuous, admiring gaze.

Arriving at the Party

The party was being held at a nicely decorated venue arranged by Mohan’s office friends. Warm fairy lights framed the entrance, paired with lush floral decorations, a welcome board, and a small stage prepared for the evening’s program. Soft music hummed through the speakers as guests trickled in.

Mohan parked the car and walked around to open Padma’s door.

Padma stepped out, the sheer black silk fluttering gently in the evening breeze.

Almost immediately, a few people near the entrance noticed her.

Mohan’s colleague smiled broadly, stepping forward to greet them.

? Colleague: “Mohan! Finally, you’ve brought your wife. Padma, right?”

? Padma: “Yes, nice to meet you.”

? Colleague: “You look wonderful.”

Another colleague walked over, holding a drink and looking thoroughly impressed.

? Another Colleague: “That saree is beautiful, Padma ji. Extremely elegant.”

Padma thanked them politely, smoothing her pallu over her fitted blouse.

Within minutes, several people were crowding around to introduce themselves. The men in Mohan's office were noticeably eager to stay in her circle, making charming conversation and lingering just a little longer than usual.

? Friend: “Mohan never told us you were such a saree person.”

? Padma: “I’m not usually... this was a special choice.”

? Friend: “Honestly, when I saw you walking in through the gate, for a second I thought Mohan was arriving with some movie heroine or a top model!”

Padma blushed, offering a shy, graceful smile as Mohan beamed with pride beside her.

The women at the party noticed her too, their eyes meticulously tracing her look from head to toe.

One came over and complimented the cut of her blouse design, while another asked where she had bought such a unique tissue-silk dbang.

A few other women exchanged quiet, sharp looks afterward, subtly adjusting their own heavy jewelry and comparing their outfits to her effortless style.

One whispered envy-filled praise to her friend:

? Woman: “Look at her... she looks so naturally elegant without even trying.”
Padma stood at the center of the room, feeling the intoxicating mix of admiring eyes, whispered envy, and the thrilling knowledge that all eyes were firmly on her.
the host invited everyone toward the lavish buffet spread arranged near the garden area.

The banquet counters were filled with a delicious array of appetizers, regional delicacies, and sweets. Waiters moved through the crowd carrying trays of chilled fruit juices, sparkling mocktails, and freshly fried snacks.

Mohan brought two glasses of fresh watermelon juice over to where Padma was standing with a small group of colleagues.

? Mohan: “Here, take this. You haven’t had anything since we arrived.”

? Padma: “Thanks, Mohan.”

She took a slow sip, her dark eyes scanning the vibrant room over the glass. Nearby, a colleague’s wife pointed toward the dessert counter, which featured warm gulab jamuns, chilled rasamalai, and rich almond halwa.

? Colleague's Wife: “Padma ji, you must try the rasamalai. It’s excellent!”

? Padma: “Oh, I will. It looks wonderful.”

Even while serving herself at the buffet, Padma could feel the subtle weight of lingering gazes. Men offered polite way for her at the counters, while women continued to cast subtle, appreciative—and envious—looks at the way the black saree dbangd gracefully as she moved.

After enjoying the food, sweets, and lighthearted conversation with Mohan’s team, the party slowly began to wind down around late evening.

Returning Home

They said their goodbyes to the hosts and walked out into the cool night air toward the parking lot. The quiet humming of the night felt serene after the bustling hall.

Mohan unlocked the car, and Padma settled into the passenger seat, letting out a soft sigh of relief as she eased her heels out of her feet.

Mohan got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and looked over at her with a soft, affectionate smile as he pulled onto the quiet highway.

? Mohan: “You really were the star of the evening tonight, Padma.”

Padma looked out the window, a warm, shy smile curving her lips as she adjusted her black pallu over her lap.

? Padma: “I just enjoyed myself, Mohan. It was a nice night.”
As the streetlights flashed rhythmically across the dark interior of the car, Padma felt a quiet sense of satisfaction and she giving credits to Rajan for picking the saree.. but she forgot to remember the designer !! 
Mohan pulled into the complex and turned toward visitor parking.

? Padma: “Drop me at the lobby gate. I’ll go up and open the apartment while you park.”

? Mohan: “Sure. I’ll be right behind you.”

She stepped out into the cool night. The courtyard took the click of her heels as she walked toward the entrance, sheer black pallu gathered in one hand, the party still warm on her skin. Just before the lobby tiles the path was carpeted, and her steps went quiet.

Near the watchman’s cabin, Vinay and two delivery men were leaning on the counter, backs to her, looking out toward the drive. They did not hear her stop a few feet behind them.

“Yaar, shaam ko nikalti dekhi thi?” one of the couriers said. “Mahine bhar se plain cotton mein. Aaj kaali saree. Blouse ka cut itna gehra tha, mamme upar se bhare dikh rahe the. Soft, heavy… aise blouse mein kaun baandhta hai.”

Vinay gave a low laugh and shifted his belt. “Tumne peeche nahi dekha. Tissue silk hips pe chipki hui thi, aur gand — badi, gol, heels pe aur bahar. Matak ke chal rahi thi. Pet patla, kamar itni patli ki haath poora aa jaaye, aur upar neeche itna bhara. Mohan sir lucky hai. Meri biwi hoti aisi, bedroom se bahar nahi nikalne deta.”

The third man leaned in, not nearly quiet enough. “Face bhi. Honth berry colour mein the, thode geele se. Soch, woh honth, woh mamme haath mein, pet pe muh, aur peeche se pakad ke… yaar, aisi aurat ko kaun sirf dekhega. Mard toh sopega kaise chodna hai. Khada karke, saree upar karke, us badi gand ko pakad ke. Quiet lagti hai, par body bol rahi thi.”
All three smirked.
One of the couriers didn’t stop. He was still half-turned toward the drive, talking to the other two, not yet seeing her in the shadow behind them.

“Main bataun kaun sa scene pasand hai?” he said, voice low and filthy. “Usse bed pe lita ke nahi. Seedha upar. Woh ride kare, jaise dance kar rahi ho dick pe. Aankhein band, honth khule, enjoy karti hui. Upar se mamme dance karein — bade, bhaari, har jhatke pe hilte hue. Main uski badi gand pakad ke neeche kheenchun, muh mein ek boob le lun, aur doosri taraf ungli uski ass crack pe rakh ke khelun. Wahan ki khushboo loon. Tissue silk hata ke, heels ab bhi pair mein, aur woh matakti rahe mere upar.”

Vinay huffed a laugh. “Bas kar.”
“Bas kya,” the man said. “Aisi body ho toh yahi sochta hai na mard. Pet patla, mamme bade, gand gol, honth soft. Ride karwati rahe, aankhein band, aur main uski gand faila ke smell karun jab tak woh khud na kahe ruk.”

Padma become angry and hot at the same time and she had heard every word. The picture sat in her head whether she wanted it or not — her on top, eyes closed, his hands on her ass, mouth on her breast, finger in the crack, breathing her in. Heat flooded her face and lower, sharp and humiliating. Her heel struck the loose stone.


Padma turned sharply on her heel, her black silk saree rustling loudly as she pulled the pallu tight across her chest.
Her face was burning with rage and humiliation.
? Padma: (murmuring under her breath) “Bastards… dirty swines… disgusting pigs…”
She didn't wait another second. Holding her saree pleats clear of her heels, she marched angrily toward the elevator, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor.
The three men stood frozen in pure panic. As soon as the elevator doors slid open and Padma stepped inside, they dispersed immediately—the two delivery guys hurrying toward their parked bikes without saying another word, while Vinay frantically tried to look busy behind his counter.
A minute later, Mohan walked up from the basement parking.
He noticed Vinay standing rigid near the watchman cabin, his head bowed low, avoiding eye contact completely out of sheer guilt and fear that Padma might tell her husband. Mohan, entirely unaware of what had just transpired, stopped briefly near the gate and offered a friendly smile.
? Mohan: “Vinay, had your dinner?”
Vinay swallowed hard, his throat dry as he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
? Vinay: “Y… yes, sir. Just finished.”
? Mohan: “Good. Good night, Vinay.”
? Vinay: “Good night, sir…”
Mohan stepped into the lift, completely oblivious to the watchman's sweating forehead and trembling hands.
When Mohan unlocked the apartment door, the living room was silent. He placed his car keys on the counter and walked down the hallway toward the bedroom.
Mohan came in a few minutes later, keys still in his hand, and found her in the bedroom with the pallu crumpled on the chair and the heels kicked off by the bed.
? Mohan: “You came up fast. Everything all right?”
Padma looked at him in the mirror. The anger was still in her mouth, but the sight of him — shirt open at the collar, watching her the way he had before they left — loosened it.
? Padma: “Fine. Come here.”
He crossed the room and stopped behind her. His hands settled on her waist, thumbs on the bare skin above the black silk.
? Mohan: “I watched you all night. Couldn’t look anywhere else. This saree, your face, the way you walked… I kept thinking about getting you home.”
She leaned back into him.
? Padma: “Then stop thinking.”
He kissed the side of her neck, slow, then the line of her shoulder where the blouse ended. She turned in his arms. The tissue silk shifted between them. Mohan cupped her face, thumb along her cheek, and kissed her properly — berry lipstick, jasmine, the long breath she let out against his mouth.
? Mohan: “You’re beautiful. You know that?”
? Padma: “Show me.”
He walked her back to the bed. The saree loosened under his hands; the pallu fell; the blouse opened. He looked at her the way he had in the mirror downstairs, only closer now — collarbones, the full weight of her breasts, the soft stomach, the hips the silk had been clinging to all evening. He kissed down her chest, took a nipple into his mouth, and groaned when she held his head there.
Padma pulled him up and onto the bed with her. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and drew him between her thighs, saree bunched at her waist, nothing else in the way. He entered her slowly. Her eyes half closed. Her hands found his back.
? Mohan: “Padma…”
? Padma: “Don’t talk. Stay.”
He moved deeper, forehead against hers, one hand under her, gripping the curve of her ass and lifting her into him. She met him, breath breaking, the anger from the lobby burning off into heat. He kissed her mouth, her throat, the top of her breast, murmuring that she was beautiful, that he had wanted this since he saw her in the heels, that he loved the way she felt around him.


He kissed her again and didn’t stop. The blouse came open under his hands, then the saree, then everything else, until both of them were naked on the bed. Mohan looked at her — breasts, stomach, the spread of her hips — and settled between her thighs. He set the head of his cock against her pussy and pushed in slowly.

Padma’s mouth opened. Her eyes closed. She breathed fast, a thin hiss leaving her, and pulled him down into a hug. He started to move, deep careful strokes, arms around her. She held on and, under the pleasure, the night came back: the good compliments at the party, and the dirty ones in the corridor. One voice stuck. I want her on top. Riding. Eyes closed. Boobs dancing. My hands on that big ass.

It tempted her.

? Padma: “Mohan. Wait.”

? Mohan: “What?”

She drew off him. His cock slipped out, a few drops falling onto the mattress. She made him lie back and came over him, kissing his mouth. Mohan went still, then eager, hands already at her waist. She reached between them and rubbed him along her pussy, slow, slick, both of them breathing harder.

She took him in her left hand, set him where she wanted, lifted her hips, and slid down. He rose into her easily. Both of them swore under their breath. Sweat had already started at her spine. She began to move, up and down, taking her time, feeling every bit of it. Mohan lay under her, unsure what to do with his hands.

Padma caught one of them and put it on her breast. He felt her, pressed, and she broke open into sound — haa… hmmm… haa… mmm… aah… ah — riding him while he held her there. Then his other hand found her ass, big in his palm, and he squeezed. Her pace picked up.

? Mohan: “What a beauty you are. What breasts. What an ass, Padma.”

? Padma: “Yes, baby. You like them so much?”

? Mohan: “So much.”

She bent lower, lying on his chest, kissing his mouth. He put both hands on her ass and worked it like dough, pulling her down onto him. She fed one breast into his mouth. He licked and sucked, greedy, like he couldn’t leave it. She remembered the corridor — gand kitni badi hai, matak matak ke chal rahi hai — and something in her went wild. In her head only: Yes. I have a big ass. Men want to fuck me different ways. I want it different too. Harder.

Mohan stayed a delicate lover, even now.

? Mohan: “You’re smooth… I’m really liking this. I love the way you do it. Love you, wife. You’re divine.”

? Padma: “Yes, baby. Love you.”

Inside, the other words still pulled. She wanted it rougher because of them. She remembered Rajan’s mouth in the lobby, and then, unbidden, Rajan with Ananya — what a bad man, thinking of her while he was with someone else. Her pussy tightened, suddenly sensitive. The riding turned into small sensual movements, hips grinding more than dancing, both of them hugging close.

It was too much for Mohan. He swelled inside her, control slipping, and she was the one setting the pace. He wanted to slow down. She didn’t stop.

? Mohan: “Baby, I want to cum.”

? Padma: “Is it, baby… do it, baby.”

She moved faster, yes, baby, yes, still hugging him. He pressed her ass and slid a finger into the crack. That undid her. A few more movements and she came, shaking on him, and Mohan followed, spilling deep, both of them locking up and then going slack.
They lay exhausted, sweating, not moving. Her face stayed on his chest. His hands were still on her ass. In the quiet she could hear both things at once — his love, and the filthy voices she had carried all the way home.

[sharath841]

The next afternoon, Padma went shopping alone.
She walked into a modern clothing store and slowly looked through the racks. For once she didn’t go straight to the sarees. She picked up a pair of jeans, then a light-colored shirt, then a pair of tailored trousers and a stylish top. She held each one up, checked the cut, and finally carried a sharp pencil-fit pair of pants and a tight T-shirt toward the trial room.
The curtain closed behind her.
She slipped out of her salwar kameez and hung it on the hook. Bra and panty only now. The trial-room light was bright and a little cold. She looked at herself once in the mirror—fair skin, the soft curve of her waist, the round weight of her bum—then bent, stepped one shapely leg into the pants, then the other.
They didn’t want to go up easy.
She forced them, slow, tugging, the fabric catching on her thighs. She bent further, ass pushed back, and pulled. The waistband climbed over her hips and caught on the swell of her bum. She had to work it, both hands, lifting and yanking until the pencil fit snapped into place over her ass and she could hook the front. It hugged her hard. The seam sat right in the crack. Her panty line showed faintly under the stretch.
She straightened, breathing a little harder from the fight with the cloth, and pulled the tight T-shirt over her head. It clung. The bra showed through. Her breasts sat high and full under the thin cotton, nipples already a little pointed from the cool air and the way the shirt dragged across them.
She turned in front of the mirror.
Side. Back. Side again.
The pants made her ass look bigger and rounder than the saree ever did. The T-shirt ended just above the waistband. She ran both hands down her sides, over her hips, then back over her bum, squeezing once like she was checking the fit. A small, private smile. She looked like someone else’s wife for a second—the one who wore jeans and walked like she knew men were watching.
She took her phone out.
A few pictures. Front, the shirt stretched across her chest. Side, the line of her waist into the tight pants. Then she turned, looked over her shoulder, and clicked the back—her big bum filling the fit, the seam disappearing between the cheeks. One more, closer, hand on her own ass, pulling the fabric a little tighter so the shape was shameless.
She checked the screen. The photos were clear. Too clear.
For a moment she just stood there, thumb hovering, heat low in her belly. Then she opened Mohan’s chat.
She didn’t type much.
Just the pictures. One after another.


And under the last one, the one of her ass in the pants:
Padma: Fitting room. These pants are trouble. Come see? Or should I buy them and let you peel them off at home?
She locked the phone, looked at herself once more in the mirror, and slowly ran a finger along the front seam where the fabric pressed between her legs.
She didn’t stop at the T-shirt.
Padma peeled it off again, the cotton dragging over her breasts, and reached for the next top. A thin, light-colored button shirt. She left the bra on at first, slipped her arms in, and did the buttons slowly in the mirror. The fabric was almost sheer under the trial-room light. The bra showed through completely—cups, straps, the dark line of her nipples when she shifted.
She opened the top two buttons. Then one more. Cleavage. The shirt hung open just enough that if she leaned forward the bra would spill into view. She took a picture like that, chin down, looking at the phone through her lashes, one hand holding the shirt apart.
Then she unhooked the bra.
It came off. She hung it with the salwar. Bare now under the open shirt, she did the buttons again—only the middle ones—so the shirt framed her breasts instead of covering them. The sides of them showed. The inner curves. She turned sideways, sucked her stomach in a little, and clicked. The photo caught the hang of one breast and the tight line of the pencil pants over her ass.
She sent both.
No caption on the first. On the second:
Padma: Shirt with nothing under. Too much?
She tried the stylish top next. Sleeveless, fitted, a deep neck. It fought her the same way the pants had. She had to work it down over her chest, tug it at the waist, smooth it over her hips. No bra this time. The neckline sat low. Every time she breathed, the edge of her breasts moved. She faced the mirror, pulled the neck a little lower with two fingers, and took the picture. Then one from above, so Mohan would see straight down the top.
That one she sent with:
Padma: This one too. Tell me which you want me to wear home.
She stood there a moment longer, phone in one hand, the other resting on the button of the pants. The fitting-room curtain didn’t quite reach the floor. Outside, other women were talking, hangers clicking. She could hear them. Her own face in the mirror was flushed. The pants were still biting into her bum. Between her legs the cotton panty was warm and a little damp from all the bending and posing.
Another photo. Just the waist down. Her hand on the fly. Thumb under the waistband.
Padma: Still in the trial room. Pants are not coming off easy. You watching?
She hit send, locked the screen against her chest, and waited to see if he would answer before she changed back.
Mohan stayed at his desk.
The photos kept coming, and he didn’t leave. He just turned his chair a little toward the wall, phone low in his lap, and answered between mails he was no longer reading.
Padma: Tried the white shirt again. Bra off. Too open?
The picture was the trial-room mirror, shirt hanging loose, only two buttons done, both breasts bare at the sides. He felt his cock push against his zipper and typed with his thumb under the desk.
Mohan: Buy it. Don’t button it in the car.
She sent the sleeveless top next, then a softer one with a tie at the waist. In one she had turned, the pencil pants still on, looking back over her shoulder so he could see how the new top ended just above the swell of her ass.
Padma: This or the tight T-shirt? I’m keeping the pants. They won’t come off without a fight.
Mohan: Keep the pants. Wear the tie one home. I want to pull that string and watch it fall.
Mohan: Bend once more before you change. Hand on your ass. Same angle.
A minute passed. The office was loud around him—phones, a printer, someone laughing two desks over. His screen lit up. She had done it. Bent, one palm spread on her own bum, the seam of the pencil pants sunk between her cheeks, the new top ridden up. He had to shift in the chair and press his forearm over his lap.
Mohan: Fuck. That’s the one.
Mohan: Buy the pants, the open shirt, and that top. Leave the rest.
Padma: Salesgirl asked if I need help. I said no.
He stared at that line longer than the photos.
Mohan: Good. Don’t fix it. Walk around the shop like that and then go to the counter. I want you paying while you’re still on them.
Mohan: Send me the bill photo when you’re done. Then go home. I’ll finish here and peel them off you myself.
He locked the phone, sat back, and tried to look like a man answering mails. Under the desk he was still hard, and he didn’t touch it. He wanted it waiting for her
That evening, Padma showed Mohan the clothes she had bought. He was visibly pleased to see her trying something outside her usual style.

Later, when they were alone, the mood between them became warm and affectionate. They hugged for a long time, kissed, and stayed close to each other. Padma felt relaxed and completely reassured by Mohan’s affection. Their private time brought them even closer, and afterward they lay together talking quietly.
Now Padma is fully satisfied.. 
The next day, Padma returned to the same shopping complex.

This time she walked into the women’s section with much more confidence.

She wasn’t looking for one particular outfit.

She wanted to experiment.

A salesgirl approached her.

?‍? Salesgirl: “Madam, looking for anything particular?”

? Padma: “Actually, I’m trying different styles. You can suggest some things.”
The salesgirl smiled and began selecting outfits for her.

The next day, Padma returned to the same shopping complex.

This time she walked into the women’s section with much more confidence.

She wasn’t looking for one particular outfit.

She wanted to experiment.

A salesgirl approached her.

?‍? Salesgirl: “Madam, looking for anything particular?”

? Padma: “Actually, I’m trying different styles. You can suggest some things.”

The salesgirl smiled and began selecting outfits for her.

First came another jeans-and-top combination.

Then a smart casual shirt.

Then a modest skirt paired with a tucked-in top.

Then a simple contemporary dress.

Padma carried them toward the trial room.

One by one, she tried them.

After each outfit, she stepped in front of the mirror, checking how naturally it suited her.

The salesgirl gave practical suggestions about the fit and combinations.

?‍? Salesgirl: “This one looks very elegant on you.”

? Padma: “Really?”

?‍? Salesgirl: “Yes. And this skirt would look better with the other top.”

Padma looked at herself again.

She smiled.

Mohan had been right.

She didn’t have to completely change her personality or become someone else.

There were simply more choices than she had ever allowed herself to consider.

She took a few mirror pictures to show Mohan later.
And somewhere in the middle of trying the different outfits, Padma realized she was actually enjoying herself.
While Padma was inside the trial room, Rajan quietly entered the store.

He noticed Padma’s shopping bag near the trial-room area and immediately recognized her.

He approached the salesgirl who had been helping her.

? Rajan: “Excuse me. That lady in the trial room—Padma. She’s my wife.”

The salesgirl looked surprised.

?‍? Salesgirl: “Oh, okay, sir.”

Rajan smiled.

? Rajan: “She’s trying some new outfits. I want to surprise her. Please don’t tell her I’m here.”

?‍? Salesgirl: “Of course, sir.”

Rajan moved away and stayed where Padma couldn’t see him.

The salesgirl quietly brought a few more outfits toward the trial room.

?‍? Salesgirl: “Madam, I found a few more styles you might like. Why don’t you try these too?”

Padma smiled.

? Padma: “Okay. I’ll try them.”

She disappeared behind the curtain again.

Rajan watched from a distance, careful not to let her notice him.

One by one, Padma tried the new outfits and came out to look at herself in the large mirror. The salesgirl helped her decide which styles worked best.

Eventually, the salesgirl suggested taking photographs so Padma could compare them later.

Rajan quietly handed over his phone.

? Rajan: “Could you take a few pictures with this? She can look through them afterward.”

The salesgirl nodded.
Padma still had no idea that Rajan was somewhere in the store.

Inside the trial room Padma peeled off the kurta and stood in her bra and panties under the hard light. The first dress was knee-length, simple neck, but the fabric sat closer than anything she wore at home. It caught under her breasts and skimmed her hips. When she turned, more leg showed than a salwar ever had, and the curve of her ass shifted the skirt. She took a mirror picture — front, then a side where the dress pulled — and sent it to Mohan.

? Padma: “Should I actually try something like this?”

? Mohan: “Yes. Come out and see it properly. Try a few more. Choose what you like.”

She smiled at the screen, then changed into a short skirt and a fitted top. The top clung to her breasts. The skirt ended high on the thigh; when she checked the side view, the hem lifted over the round of her ass. She sent that one too.

? Mohan: “Looks good. Don’t decide in there. Go out. Ask the salesgirl. Try different ones.”

? Padma: “Okay. I’ll try.”

She stepped out. The salesgirl had her stand at the big mirror.

?‍? Salesgirl: “Turn, madam. Slowly. I need to see the fit.”


Padma turned. The skirt tightened across her hips. She smiled at herself, shy, pleased, one hand smoothing the top where it strained.

She did not know Rajan was a little way off, half behind a rack, exactly where he had said he would stay out of sight. He had promised Mohan he was only in the store for something else. He was not looking at the clothes. He was looking at Padma — the woman who had only ever worn cotton and sarees in front of him — now in a short skirt, breasts lifted by the top, ass moving when she turned, face soft with the pleasure of her own reflection.

The salesgirl took a few pictures on Rajan’s phone, angling low enough to catch thigh and hip, then the open line of the top.

“For you to compare later, madam.”

Padma nodded. She thought they were for her and Mohan.

Rajan said nothing. He watched her go back in, curtain swaying, and waited. When she came out in the next dress — thinner, closer, neck lower — she looked at the mirror and smiled without hesitating. The dress held her breasts and broke over her ass when she walked. She turned once because the salesgirl asked, and the smile stayed.
Rajan understood it then, and it made his mouth dry. She was not dressing for him. She liked this. She liked the fit, the leg, the way the mirror gave her body back. 
Padma finally decided which outfits she wanted and walked toward the billing counter.

She was still smiling to herself when Rajan appeared beside her.

Rajan : Hey Padma … 

Padma turned, surprised.
? Padma: “Rajan? You were here?”
? Rajan: “For a little while.”
And Rajan leaves to the door… 
After that sales girl came to billing area where Padma’s shopping bill was ready and she was paying.. 

Padma: “Actually, could you send me those photographs you took? 
The salesgirl looked confused.
?‍? Salesgirl: “Madam… you didn’t know?”
? Padma: “Know what?”


The salesgirl smiled, completely unaware of the confusion she had just created.
?‍? Salesgirl: “He wanted to surprise you! He gave me his phone and asked me to take the pictures. He also selected all these outfits for you.”
Padma’s cheeks immediately turned red.
? Padma: “Mohan…?”
The salesgirl pointed across the store.
?‍? Salesgirl: “There he is, madam.”
Padma turned.
Her expression changed instantly.
It wasn’t Mohan.
It was Rajan.
She stared at him, completely stunned.
? Padma: “What… again?”
Then she looked back at the salesgirl.

Rajan slowly approached.

Padma’s embarrassment turned into irritation.
Salesgirl: “Madam, your husband is very naughty. You are so lucky—he clearly wanted to make you happy.”

Padma glanced at Rajan, speechless.

The salesgirl continued innocently:

?‍? Salesgirl: “And look at him—so tall and strong. I’m sure he doesn’t let you go anywhere alone!”

Padma’s face became even more uncomfortable.

She lowered her voice.

? Padma: “Rajan… what exactly did you tell her?”

Rajan looked at her calmly.

? Rajan: “I wanted to surprise you.”

Padma stared at him.
The surprise had definitely worked.
Padma walked away from the store without looking back.

She could hear Rajan’s footsteps behind her.

She finally stopped near the bus stop and turned around.

? Padma: “Why are you following me?”

Rajan stopped a few feet away.

His expression had changed. The confidence was gone.

? Rajan: “I’m sorry.”

Padma said nothing.

? Rajan: “I shouldn’t have told that woman I was your husband. I shouldn’t have arranged those photographs without telling you.”

Padma remained silent.

? Rajan: “But there’s something I can’t keep pretending isn’t true.”

She looked at him reluctantly.

? Rajan: “I love you, Padma.”

She looked away.

? Rajan: “I know I’ve said it before. And I’ll probably say it again. I love you.”

He almost laughed at himself.

? Rajan: “I’ve probably said those words a hundred times in my head.”

Padma didn’t respond.

? Rajan: “I respect that you’re married. I know you have your life. I’m not asking you to abandon it.”

A bus appeared in the distance.

? Rajan: “But I can’t simply switch these feelings off.”

Padma’s expression hardened.

? Padma: “Rajan, enough.”

The bus pulled up.

Padma stepped aboard.

Rajan followed.

She immediately looked at him.

? Padma: “Why did you get on?”

? Rajan: “I just want to talk.”

They stood among the other passengers.

Rajan kept his voice low.

? Rajan: “I’ve spent years trying to forget you. It never worked.”

Padma stared through the window.

? Rajan: “I remember you from college. I remember the way you looked at me when you rejected me. I remember every conversation we’ve had since.”

Padma’s jaw tightened.

She could feel people nearby.

What must they think?

She wished he would stop.

Yet somewhere beneath the irritation was another feeling she didn’t want to examine.

Rajan continued.

? Rajan: “I’m obsessed with you. With your presence. With the way you carry yourself. Even when I try to concentrate on something else, somehow you come back into my mind.”

Padma finally turned toward him.

? Padma: “You need to stop following me.”

Rajan fell silent.
For several seconds, neither spoke.

The bus finally stopped near Padma’s neighborhood.

She stepped down quickly, hoping Rajan would finally take the hint.

He got off too.

Padma sighed.

She started walking toward her apartment.

Behind her, Rajan followed at a distance.

She stopped.

He stopped.

She started again.

He started again.

Padma turned around.

? Padma: “Rajan, seriously?”

? Rajan: “I’m sorry.”

? Padma: “You’ve already said that.”

? Rajan: “Then I’ll say it again.”

Padma shook her head and continued walking.

Rajan followed like a hopeless Romeo, completely refusing to accept that the conversation was over.
? Rajan: “Padma!”

Padma: “Rajan, why are you still following me?”

He stopped for a moment, then spoke quietly.

? Rajan: “Because I haven’t finished saying what I came to say.”

Padma sighed.

? Rajan: “In my whole life, I want you at least once, Padma.”

She immediately turned around.

? Padma: “Rajan…”

? Rajan: “Not because I want to disrespect you. I really love you. And I respect you.”

Padma stared at him, irritated by the persistence.

? Rajan: “I know you may never give me what I want. I know you’re married. But I’ve carried this feeling for years, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Padma said nothing.

Rajan continued, his voice quieter now.

? Rajan: “You don’t have to answer me. You don’t even have to believe me. I just wanted you to know.”
Padma looked away and continued walking.
Padma kept walking without looking back.



After a while, she reached the entrance of her apartment building. She stopped near the lift and finally turned toward Rajan.



? Padma: “Please don’t follow me any further. We’re near my apartment now. Just go.”



Rajan stood silently for a moment.



? Rajan: “Okay.”



He reluctantly turned away.



Padma entered the lift.



The doors closed.



She breathed out, relieved.



But when the lift stopped at the first floor and the doors opened, Padma froze.



Rajan was standing outside.



? Padma: “Rajan?!”



Before she could react, he stepped inside.



Padma immediately moved toward the exit.



? Padma: “No. Get out.”



Rajan raised both hands pleadingly.



? Rajan: “Please, Padma. Just listen to me.”



? Padma: “You’ve already said enough.”



? Rajan: “I love you.”



Padma stared at him.



? Rajan: “I will love you in a way you can’t imagine. I want you, Padma. I’ve wanted you for years.”



She shook her head.



? Padma: “You certainly look like a psycho right now.”



Rajan’s expression fell.



? Rajan: “Maybe I am obsessed. I can’t sleep properly sometimes. I keep thinking about you.”



Padma remained near the doors.


? Rajan: “I want to be near you. I want to feel your presence. I want to know you completely

want to love your whole body, every inch of it — from your hair down to the tips of your toes — slowly, with my mouth, until there is nowhere on you I have not tasted.

Padma looked at him sharply.

? Padma: “Rajan, wanting someone doesn’t give you the right to follow them.”

He lowered his eyes.

? Rajan: “I know.”

The lift continued upward in silence.

Padma pressed the button for her floor.
? Padma: “Then prove it. Respect what I’m telling you.”
Rajan: “I’ll give you two days. Just think about it, Padma. You don’t have to answer me now.”

? Padma: “Two days? What exactly do you expect me to think about?”

? Rajan: “About everything I said. About what I feel. About what you feel.”

Padma stared at him in disbelief.

? Padma: “You really are impossible.”

? Rajan: “Two days. That’s all I’m asking.”

? Padma: “Get lost, Rajan.”

The lift doors opened.

Padma stepped out immediately without looking back.
Rajan remained inside, watching the doors slowly close.

[sharath841]

After returning home, Padma changed into her usual comfortable casual clothes.

She placed the new outfits on the bed, looked at them for a moment, then pushed the shopping bag aside.

She was tired.

She lay down for a while and eventually fell asleep.

Later that evening, Mohan returned home after stopping for coffee.

He noticed the shopping bag almost immediately.

? Mohan: “You bought quite a few things, didn’t you?”

Padma smiled sleepily.

? Padma: “A few.”

Mohan picked up one of the outfits.

It was a stylish one-piece dress, modestly cut but much shorter than anything Padma normally wore, falling around her thighs.

He looked at her with a smile.

? Mohan: “Why don’t you try this one?”

Padma hesitated.

For a moment, Rajan’s face flashed through her mind.

She immediately pushed the thought away.

? Padma: “Now?”

? Mohan: “Yes. You were excited about trying different styles yesterday.”

Padma looked at the dress again.

Mohan was the reason she had started experimenting in the first place.

She nodded.

? Padma: “Okay. I’ll try it.”

She picked up the dress and walked toward the bedroom.

She still hadn’t told Mohan anything about what had happened with Rajan.



Padma closed her eyes.

Why is he repeating himself in my head when I never asked him to?

She opened them and looked at the mirror.

The woman there was dressed, composed and ordinary, nothing on her face to show what was running through her.

She wasn't thinking about him because she agreed with him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to think about him at all.

She was thinking about him because he had pushed himself so deep into her thoughts that she couldn't simply switch him off either.
She started wearing dress I'll give you two days. Just think about it. About what I feel. About what you feel.
Padma closed her eyes.
Why is he repeating himself in my head when I never asked him to?
She opened them and looked at the mirror.
The woman there was dressed, composed and ordinary, nothing on her face to show what was running through her.
She wasn't thinking about him because she agreed with him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to think about him at all.
She was thinking about him because he had pushed himself so deep into her thoughts that she couldn't simply switch him off either.


That was what irritated her. Not what he had said, but that he had left her with it.

? Mohan: "Padma? Are you ready?"

? Padma: "Coming."

She smoothed the dress once and walked out, her face calm.

After Mohan went to bed, Padma remained awake for a while.

She picked up her phone.

For a second, she thought about checking whether Rajan had messaged.

She stopped herself.

No.

She put the phone down.

Then picked it up again.

Nothing.

No message.

No call.

She placed it face down.

And strangely, the silence bothered her.

Not because she wanted him to contact her.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But she couldn’t stop wondering.

The next evening, Padma was sitting quietly at home when her phone vibrated.

Rajan.

She hesitated before opening it.

Rajan: "Day one is over. So, what did you think?"

She stared at the screen, a bunch of coriander in her other hand.

One day. He had said two.

Another message : 
Rajan : ‘ I couldn’t stop thinking of you ‘
Am obsessed for you.. am feeling like kissing you holding you… Padma . 
Padma got anxious and trembling.. 
Rajan : Wanted to kiss you in the shop itself … I controlled.. 
Padma wanted typed Plz stop .. but didn’t send .. 
Another message arrived.

? Rajan: “Anyway, leave that subject aside.”

She stared at the screen.

Then came another message.

? Rajan: “Did Mohan like the dresses you selected?”

Padma’s fingers moved toward the keyboard.

She stopped.

She didn’t want to answer.

She put the phone down.

A few seconds later, it vibrated again.

? Rajan: “You were really slaying in those pictures.”

Padma’s face became warm.

She read the sentence again.

She wanted to reply.

Something simple.

Those were just clothes.

But she couldn’t bring herself to type it.

Another message appeared.

? Rajan: “And you know something?”

Padma stared at the screen.

? Rajan: “You weren’t really posing for the salesgirl.”

Her heart skipped.

? Rajan: "And you were giving those poses to me actually. Not to the sales girl. You know that."

Padma immediately locked her phone.

That’s not true.

She told herself that firmly.

She had been following the salesgirl’s instructions.

She had been sending pictures to Mohan.

She hadn’t even known Rajan was there.

Yet his words made her replay the entire afternoon.

The mirror.

The outfits.

The poses.

The photographs.

The salesgirl asking her to turn.

And Rajan watching from somewhere inside the store.

Padma picked up the phone again.

She opened the chat.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

She wanted to tell him he was completely wrong.

But instead, she closed the conversation without replying.

Heat climbed her neck. She pressed her palm over her mouth, not to stop a sound, but to stop a smile she didn't want to find there.

Say something. Be angry. Tell him he's wrong.

But he wasn't wrong.

The phone stayed lit in her hand, his last line glowing at the bottom of the screen. The little Typing… bubble appeared, hung there a moment, then disappeared.

He was waiting.

Padma turned the screen to the wall, and then the pillow over it, and lay staring at the ceiling with her heart pounding.

She hadn't answered.

But for the first time, she understood that not answering was also something he could read.
At 11:58 that night, the phone lit up on the bedside table.
She was not sleeping feeling uneasy and deep in her thoughts.. 
Mohan was asleep, one arm flung over his head. Padma slid the phone under the blanket and opened it.

? Rajan: "Two days are almost over it will be over tomorrow evening..!!

Rajan: "I only want to ask one thing

Rajan: "Just imagine for a second, Padma… if you had known I was the one choosing those dresses for you, and that I was standing right behind you while you were taking those pictures in the trial room… when you turned around and posed for that back picture, would you still have smiled like that?"

Padma stopped breathing.

Actually Rajan knew only about the pics taken outside the trial room so he only guessed if that happened inside ? 
But Padma knew that she posed and taken pics ..
Then Padma immediately looked at her phone again.

She opened the photographs she had taken that afternoon for Mohan. She hadn’t really looked at them carefully before.

Now she went through them one by one.

The first showed her in the fitted outfit, standing before the mirror.

The next was from the side.

Then another from behind, where she had turned and smiled at her reflection.

She stared at that one for several seconds.

Rajan’s message came back to her:

“If you had known I was standing right behind you… would you still have smiled like that?”

Padma frowned.

She knew perfectly well that she had taken those photographs for Mohan. She hadn’t known Rajan was anywhere nearby.

Yet curiosity made her imagine the alternative.

What if he had been there?

For a moment, she pictured him standing a few steps behind her while she looked at the outfits, quietly giving his opinion and helping her choose between them.

She imagined turning toward him and asking:

“Which one?”

The thought made her immediately uncomfortable.

She locked the phone.

A few seconds later, she unlocked it again and looked at the photograph once more.

The open shirt. The bend. The thumb under the waistband.

curiosity made her imagine the alternative.

What if he had been there?
For a moment she pictured him a few steps behind her in the trial room, not touching, just standing where the mirror could catch both of them. 

After this the pictures of poses she taken and He would have seen the back pose—hips pushed out,if Rajan the one behind her  he would have made nice compliments no dirty comments .. and he would not stay simply he would have done or act something 

The thought made her smile for a second.

Then she caught herself.
[i]Why am I imagining what he would have done?[/i]

[Givemeextra]

Where is the original author?

The current one need not delete the posts but instead post it as a different thread.

[sharath841]

The next day passed unusually slowly.
Padma kept herself busy with household work, cooking, and small errands. But somewhere in the back of her mind, one thought remained.
5:00 PM.
That was when the two days would be over.
She checked the time.
2:47 PM.
She frowned.
Why am I even checking?
She put her phone down and continued what she was doing.
A little later, she looked again.
3:26 PM.
Then—
4:05 PM.
Her eyes stayed on the screen for a moment.
She knew exactly what she was waiting for.
At 4:38 PM, she sat down with her phone beside her.
She told herself she wasn’t waiting for Rajan’s message.
She was simply curious about what he would do when the two days were over.
4:51 PM.
Her heart began beating a little faster.
She opened their chat.
Nothing.
She closed it.
4:56 PM.
She opened it again.
Still nothing.
Padma looked at the clock.
4:59 PM.
She took a slow breath.
Then the minute changed.
5:00 PM.
She stared at the phone.
Nothing happened.
For several seconds, she simply sat there.
Then she whispered to herself:
? Padma: “So… what now, Rajan?”
And almost as if he had been waiting for that exact moment—

She typed:
“Rajan, please don’t contact me again.”
She stared at it.
Then deleted it.
She typed:
“I have thought about it.”
She stared at that even longer.
What am I doing?
Delete.
She put the phone down.

Her restlessness increased.

She walked into the kitchen, poured herself water, came back, and immediately checked the phone.

She sat on the edge of the sofa.
What if he doesn’t text?
That thought surprised her.
She had spent two days telling herself she wanted him to stop.
So why did the possibility of him saying nothing make her uneasy?

That day went no msgs from both the end..

The two-day deadline had passed, but Padma still felt strangely unsettled.
The next morning, she decided to do something ordinary—go downstairs and buy a few groceries.
She opened her wardrobe and noticed one of the newer outfits she’d bought recently.
It was stylish but still modest: a well-fitted top with comfortable trousers.
She held it against herself and looked in the mirror.
For a moment, she imagined walking through the apartment lobby wearing it.
Then she remembered the watchman.
What if Vinay sees me?
Then the other residents.
What if someone stares? What if they start talking again?
She almost put the outfit back.
Instead, she changed into it.
She looked at herself once more.
She actually liked how she looked.
But the nervousness remained.
Padma grabbed a light jacket from the wardrobe and slipped it over the outfit.
? Padma: “Just for going downstairs.”
She picked up her shopping bag and walked toward the lift.
Her heart was beating slightly faster than usual.
When the lift doors opened, she stepped inside.
Nobody was there.
The doors opened in the lobby.
She stepped out cautiously.
The watchman’s chair was empty.
She glanced toward it automatically.
Nobody.
She walked outside.
The strange thing was that nobody seemed to notice her at all.
A delivery man passed by without looking twice.
A couple walked past, talking to each other.
A car entered the gate.
No one stared.
No one commented.
No one cared.
Padma slowed down.
She suddenly realized how much of her fear had been coming from inside her own head.
She smiled faintly.
Then she pulled the jacket slightly closer around herself and continued toward the grocery store.
For once, she wasn’t being watched.
And somehow, that felt almost more surprising than being noticed.

After finishing her work, Padma noticed a clothing store on the way back.
She hesitated for a moment, then walked inside.
She placed her grocery bags in the storage box near the entrance and removed the light jacket she had been wearing. Without it, her blue outfit felt a little more noticeable, but she was beginning to feel comfortable in it.
She walked through the racks, looking at different styles.
A few tops caught her attention, but one was too bright, another too formal, and another didn’t feel like something she would actually wear.
Then she found a long casual top in a soft colour that would look good with jeans.
She held it against herself in front of the mirror.
? Padma: “This is nice.”
She took it with her and entered the trial room.
But instead of changing immediately, she first stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself in the blue outfit she had arrived in.
She adjusted her hair.
Turned slightly.
Then tried a different pose.
She smiled at her reflection.
And suddenly, Rajan’s message came back to her.
What if I had been standing behind you while you were taking those pictures?

Padma looked at the empty space behind her in the mirror.
A strange excitement passed through her.
She picked up her phone.
First, she took an ordinary mirror photograph.
Then she became more playful.
She turned sideways, placed one hand on her waist, and gave the camera a teasing pout.
Click.
She looked at the picture and smiled.
Then she turned around and posed from the back, glancing over her shoulder toward the mirror.
Click.
She looked at the photograph.
For a moment, she imagined Rajan standing several steps behind her, quietly watching and choosing which pose looked best.
The thought made her cheeks warm.
She bent slightly toward the mirror and lifted her hips into a deliberately cheeky pose, then glanced over her shoulder at her reflection.


Click.
Then she straightened up and tried another expression.
A little pout.
A mischievous smile.
Then she leaned closer to the mirror and gave it a playful air-kiss.
She immediately laughed at herself.
? Padma: “What am I doing?”
But instead of putting the phone away, she looked at the photographs again.
Then she turned toward the mirror and, almost as if Rajan were actually there, asked softly:
? Padma: “Do you like it?”


Silence.
Only her own reflection looked back at her.
Padma’s smile slowly disappeared into an embarrassed expression.
She shook her head.
? Padma: “This is getting ridiculous.”
She finally put the phone down and looked at the long casual top hanging beside her.
But before trying it on, she glanced at her photographs one more time.
And wondered why imagining Rajan watching her had suddenly become so exciting.
Padma finally put her phone away.

She looked at the long casual top she had picked.

? Padma: “I’ll think about it.”

She changed back into her jacket, collected her grocery bags, and walked out of the trial room.

At the entrance, she retrieved her bags and stepped outside.

The evening air felt cooler.

As she walked toward the apartment, her mind kept returning to what had happened inside the trial room.

Not the clothes.

Not even the photographs.

It was the strange imaginary version of Rajan she had created in her head.

Why did I imagine him standing there?

She shook her head.

? Padma: “It’s just a thought.”

She reached the apartment building.

The lobby was quiet.

Vinay was at the desk, he was shocked to see her in this avatar and kept his mouth open in shock !!

Padma walked toward the lift as if she didn’t see Vinay ..

For once, she didn’t feel the need to pull her jacket tighter.

The lift arrived.

She stepped inside and watched the doors close.

As she looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall, she remembered the poses she had taken.

A tiny smile appeared.

She immediately caught herself.

? Padma: “No.”

The lift reached her floor.

She walked into the apartment, placed the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, and removed her jacket.

She stood there for a moment.

Then she looked at her phone.

The photographs were still there.

Her thumb hovered over them.

She didn’t open them.

Instead, she locked the phone and put it face down.
But somewhere inside, she already knew she would probably look at them again later.

Padma after reaching home ,
Padma sat in front of the television, changing channels absent-mindedly.

Nothing caught her attention.

She switched again.

A Bollywood music channel was playing old songs.

She left it there.

One song finished, and then the opening of “Yeh Mera Dil” from Don began.

Padma recognized it immediately.

She watched for a while.

The actress danced across the screen, playful and confident, performing directly toward the hero.

Padma smiled.

Then, somewhere around the middle of the song, an unexpected thought entered her mind.

What if I were dancing like that… in front of Rajan?

She froze.

Her eyes remained fixed on the television.

The thought didn’t disappear.

Instead, it became more vivid.

She imagined herself dressed differently, moving confidently while Rajan stood watching her.

His expression.

His attention.

The way he would look at her.

Padma’s heart began beating faster.

She couldn’t look away from the screen.

Then suddenly she reached for the remote.

The song ended.

She sat there for a few seconds.

Then something seemed to click in her mind.

She picked up the TV remote, opened YouTube, and searched for the song.

“Yeh Mera Dil.”

She pressed play.

The music filled the room again.

Padma stood up.

At first, she simply copied a few of the dance movements she remembered.

Then she became more confident.

She turned toward the empty space in the room and imagined Rajan standing there.

She danced toward him.

Then away.

She turned, smiled, and continued with the rhythm.


Every few seconds, she caught herself imagining his reaction.

That made her more playful.





She laughed quietly at herself but didn’t stop.

For several minutes, she completely forgot about everything else.

There was no Mohan.

No messages.

No two-day deadline.

No questions.

Just the music—and the strange fantasy she had created in her own head.

When the song finally ended, Padma stood still, breathing a little faster.

The room became quiet.

She looked toward the imaginary place where Rajan had been in her mind.

Then she slowly smiled.
? Padma: “What is happening to me?”

[sharath841]

GIVE ME FEED BACK