06-02-2025, 08:38 PM
Continued from previous post....
"Please, come in, ladies. Sorry I couldn’t make it to your place," Patode greeted them with a welcoming smile, gesturing them to come inside.
Namrata smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, don’t be so modest, Patode. You just wanted to lure us back into your little sex dungeon, didn’t you?" she teased, nudging Shipra playfully.
Patode chuckled, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Come on, Namrata, don’t paint me in such a poor light. It's nothing like that," he replied smoothly. "Handling the campaign work for the entire district is exhausting, both physically and mentally. It’s not easy being me, you know."
Shipra gave Namrata a pointed look before stepping in. "We understand, Patode. Don’t pay attention to Namrata’s loose talk. She has no idea how taxing fieldwork can be. Really, it’s no trouble," she said, attempting to downplay the teasing.
Namrata scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. I may not know about fieldwork, but I sure as hell know what left our macho man so drained," she quipped, a wicked grin spreading across her face. Her eyes flicked meaningfully toward Shipra, her words carrying an unmistakable hint—clearly referencing the multiple sex sessions between Shipra and Patode.
Shipra’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, fidgeting with the edge of her Pallu. Patode, on the other hand, leaned back comfortably, grinning like a man thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Now, now, Namrata," he said, raising a hand in mock defense. "No need to pull Shipra’s leg. She’s clearly troubled already." He turned toward Shipra, his tone shifting to something more genuine. "Have a seat, Shipra. Tell me how I can help."
Shipra hesitated before finally settling into a chair. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before speaking in a low voice. "It’s about my son, Aarav. He’s been sick since yesterday, and I need to go to Pune to be with him. But…" Her voice trailed off, uncertainty clouding her features.
"But?" Patode prompted, his brows knitting together as he studied her carefully. "Speak freely, Shipra ma’am. Nothing you say here will leave this room. That’s a promise."
Before Shipra could say another word, Namrata jumped in, unable to contain herself. "But she doesn’t want to deal with that bastard Toppo," she interjected bluntly. "He’s been trying to get into her pants ever since she got her transfer order. Fucking creep."
"Yeah," Shipra sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. "And I’m sure he won’t grant me leave, not with this campaign in full swing." Her voice carried a mix of helplessness and resentment.
She hesitated for a moment before looking up at Patode, her eyes searching his face. "I thought you might be able to help," she admitted cautiously. "But if it’s too much, Patode, you can say no. You’ve already done so much for me—I don’t want to impose. I'll understand," she added, her voice softer now, laced with genuine gratitude.
Patode blinked, then suddenly burst into laughter—loud and unrestrained. His deep chuckles echoed through the room, making both women exchange puzzled glances.
"What’s so funny?" Shipra asked, narrowing her eyes.
Patode wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, his chuckles settling into a knowing smirk. "Oh, nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It’s just that… when Namrata called, I thought you were finally going to ask me to get you transferred out of here after what happened between us last night." He leaned back, stretching his arms with a smug grin, his mind already working ahead.
In truth, he had been considering sending Shipra away from Ambruj for a few days anyway—her absence would give him the freedom to focus on eliminating Saad without unnecessary distractions. And now, here she was, unknowingly making things easier for him, placing herself exactly where he needed her to be. His laughter wasn’t just relief at realizing she had accepted their relationship; it was the satisfaction of watching her unknowingly play right into his plans.
But then, he caught the sharp glare in Shipra’s eyes, and he knew better than to let his amusement show any further.
His expression quickly shifted as he composed himself, realizing that this was no time for jokes. "I’m sorry, Shipra. That was inconsiderate of me," he admitted, his tone more serious now. "I know this must be incredibly stressful for you."
His amusement quickly faded into something more calculated, more deliberate. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But let me assure you, you’re worried over nothing."
Without another word, Patode pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts with practiced ease. His fingers hovered for a second before he tapped the screen, placing a call.
"Give me a minute," he murmured, his voice tinged with authority. "I’ll get this sorted right now."
"Good evening, Toppo sir! How are you?" Patode greeted smoothly, his voice laced with an easy confidence as he placed the call on speaker.
A gruff chuckle came from the other end. "Ah, Patode! I’m doing well. And you?" Toppo replied cautiously sensing Patode is with someone since he addressed him so formally.
"Absolutely fine, sir," Patode replied, exchanging a brief glance with Shipra. Then, his lips curled into a knowing smirk as he leaned back in his chair. "I hope the file I sent you today met your expectations?"
There was a brief pause before Toppo responded, his voice lower, tinged with something unreadable. "Yes… very much so."
Patode’s smirk deepened. His words were intentionally layered, carrying a meaning that only he and Toppo truly understood. The ‘file’ he referred to wasn’t just some routine campaign document—it was a carefully edited clip from last night, a personal glimpse into Shipra’s surrender, recorded without her knowledge.
"Great!" Patode said casually, turning his attention back to Shipra, who remained oblivious to the true nature of their conversation. He shifted gears seamlessly. "Sir, I wanted to talk to you about something important. Since we’ve already completed 90% of our campaign target, I was thinking Shipra ma’am could take a short break. She’s been working tirelessly ever since she joined the branch, and as you know, Kasegaon isn’t the easiest place to manage. A little time off would do her some good."
His voice was smooth, persuasive, deliberately painting himself as the considerate colleague who valued his team’s well-being. But beneath the surface, both he and Toppo knew the real reason behind this request.
Patode wasn’t just making things easier for Shipra—he was clearing his own path, setting the stage for what was to come. And from the knowing silence on the other end, Patode could tell that Toppo had already figured it out.
"I understand, Patode, but this campaign has been directly organized by the Head Office, and I have been made the overseeing authority for it. I cannot afford any hiccups in the execution, especially not from Shipra’s underperforming branch," Toppo’s tone hardened. "I cannot grant her leave at this critical juncture. The same applies to any other branch head under my jurisdiction, and—"
"Oh, come on, sir! You're doubting my capabilities?" Patode interrupted smoothly, his tone laced with casual confidence. "You know me better than that. I can personally guarantee that the Kasegaon branch will top the entire zone in this campaign. And if it doesn’t, you can transfer me instead," he added, letting the challenge linger in the air.
Toppo let out a dry chuckle, though there was an underlying edge to it. "It’s not about that, Patode. I’m well aware of your capabilities. The… file you sent today made that very clear," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a hidden message.
Patode smirked. The double meaning wasn’t lost on him. The ‘file’ wasn’t just a campaign progress report—it was a carefully curated piece of leverage, proof that Patode knew how to keep his allies entertained and in check.
"But," Toppo continued, his voice returning to its usual condescending drawl, "if Shipra has a problem, she should be the one to speak to me directly. You don’t need to vouch for her."
"Of course, sir. Here Shipra ma'am," Patode replied without hesitation. He turned to Shipra and handed over the phone as he casually shifted his position, stepping around the couch and positioning himself behind her.
Shipra hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting the phone. She took a deep breath and brought it to closer to her.
"Yes, Shipra," Toppo’s voice came through, smooth yet sharp. "What’s the matter? I thought you’d be able to handle Kasegaon, but it seems you’re already finding it difficult to handle yourself."
Shipra ignored the jab, keeping her voice soft and measured. "Good evening, sir. It’s nothing work-related. I have a personal emergency. My son has been sick since yesterday, and my husband is preoccupied with his commitments. If you could grant me leave for a couple of days, I would be extremely grateful."
There was silence on the line for a brief moment.
Toppo leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Tch… what can you expect from an offspring of a wimp like Alok?" he thought with disdain.
Finally, he spoke. "I don’t usually entertain such requests, Shipra, but…" he let out a dramatic sigh, "Patode ji is a valuable asset to the bank. He has sourced a great deal of business for us over the years and, more importantly, is a man of his word. Since he has personally assured me of the campaign’s success, and since this concerns your child, I will permit your leave."
Shipra felt a wave of relief but kept her composure.
"However," Toppo continued, his tone firm, leaving no room for negotiation, "I expect you to remain available over the phone at all times. I need regular updates on the campaign, and you will ensure that your absence does not disrupt the momentum. Furthermore, I expect you back in the office by Tuesday. No exceptions. Is that clear, Shipra?"
Shipra swallowed hard, recognizing the authoritative finality in his voice. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
"Good. Don’t make me regret this—and don’t forget to express your gratitude to Mr. Patode," Toppo added, his tone laced with subtle amusement. Then, without waiting for a response, he shifted his attention. "Alright, Patode, we’ll talk later." And with that, he abruptly ended the call.
"There, problem solved," Patode declared with a triumphant smirk as his hands found their way to Shipra’s shoulders. His fingers pressed into her tense muscles, working in slow, deliberate motions, as if kneading away not just the stress but the hesitation lingering within her.
“I told you Patode would handle it. You were worrying for nothing, Shipra,” Namrata chimed in, her tone light yet laced with a knowing edge. She leaned back, crossing her arms as she cast Shipra a pointed look. “And now, you can go ahead and inform Mr. Future IAS that he’s free to focus on his oh-so-important coaching. No need to burden himself with something as insignificant as his own sick child,” she added, the sarcasm dripping thick in her voice.
Shipra hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the phone in her lap. She knew Namrata had a point, but something inside her resisted the idea of texting Alok right away. A part of her wanted to see if he would call her first, if he would at least pretend to be concerned. But deep down, she already knew the answer.
Patode, ever observant, picked up on her reluctance. His hands didn’t stop their slow, knowing ministrations as he leaned in slightly, his voice low, smooth. “I’m sure Alok has his own struggles, but honestly what could be more important than one’s own child?” He let the question hang in the air, his tone carefully crafted—understanding yet subtly laced with doubt, feeding into the resentment already brewing inside her.
Shipra swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on her just as his fingers did, expertly loosening her defenses.
Patode’s smirk barely faltered, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes as he stepped away from Shipra. Feigned disappointment. Calculated restraint. “I have to say, I’m a little hurt, Shipra,” he murmured, shaking his head as if her reluctance had wounded him. His hands left her shoulders, and he strolled away with deliberate slowness, putting just enough distance between them to let his silence sink in. “After everything we’ve been through, I didn’t expect you to be so hesitant with me. If you had just told me this sooner, I would have personally driven you to Pune today itself.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. The room felt colder in the absence of his touch, and Shipra immediately felt the shift. A strange pang of guilt settled in her chest, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She hesitated, her thoughts a tangled mess, before finally rising from the couch and stepping toward him.
Softly, tentatively, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “It’s not like that, Patode,” she said, her voice gentle, almost pleading. “You’ve already done so much for me ever since I came here. I didn’t want you to feel like I’m just using you to get my way.”
Patode turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. The air between them thickened, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken desires. He let the silence stretch, drawing her in, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, smooth—tinged with something darker, something laced with quiet authority.
“It seems you still don’t trust me, Shipra,” he murmured, his tone almost thoughtful as he reached up, gently taking her hand from his shoulder and pushing it away. The small rejection sent a subtle shiver through her, as if her hesitation has hurt him. “All that talk about me being ‘your man’… was that just heat-of-the-moment nonsense? Drunken rambling? Empty words that meant nothing?”
His words were not accusatory, not outright cruel, but they pressed into her like a blade, prodding at something deep within her, testing the ground he had been carefully cultivating between them.
Shipra swallowed, her throat dry. “That’s not true, Patode,” she countered quickly, though her voice carried a slight tremor. She forced herself to meet his gaze, not wanting him to sense the storm of doubt and conflict brewing inside her. “You have my trust, and you know that.”
Patode said nothing. He merely watched her, his silence stretching, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating at the same time.
“And what I said yesterday…” Shipra hesitated, feeling heat rise to her face. “Yes, maybe some of it was just… sex talk. Words said in a moment of passion, under the influence. But…”
She trailed off, the weight of her own words pressing down on her.
Patode’s eyes darkened, his interest piqued. Instead of closing the distance between them, he did the opposite. He turned away, stepping further from her, his posture unreadable. “But what, Shipra?” he asked, his tone firm, laced with an edge of something raw—something that made her breath hitch. “Last night and again this morning—it wasn’t just sex. Not for me. It was more than a physical connection, and I refuse to believe it was just a fleeting moment of passion for you either. Was it, Shipra?”
His words sent a shiver through her. "I don't know Patode," she admitted, her voice laden with uncertainty. "It's all very new for me, very confusing," She exhaled shakily, staring down at the floor as if the answers she sought were etched into the tiles. Slowly she lifted her gaze, her eyes locking onto his. The intensity in his stare made her stomach tighten,"I am not sure what we have Patode. All I know..," Shipra tried to speak—to confess whatever it was clawing at her insides—but before she could form the words, her phone pinged with a WhatsApp message.
She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting together as she read the text.
Did you talk about taking leave with your superior?
It was from Alok.
A simple, harmless question—one that should have been routine, considerate even. But in that moment, it felt like a slap.
Shipra had expected more from him after their tense argument in the morning. She had expected at least a call, an ounce of concern, maybe even a brief information about Aarav’s condition. Instead, all she got was this dry, impersonal message. No warmth. No apology. No effort.
Her grip on the phone tightened, irritation simmering beneath her skin. It wasn’t just this message—it was the pattern, the constant lack of emotional investment from Alok that had turned their marriage into a hollow, mechanical arrangement. The realization cut deep, leaving behind an ache she had long stopped acknowledging.
A humorless scoff left her lips as she typed out a curt response. Her finger moved furiously over the keypad as she typed the reply.
Yes.
Don’t worry, you won’t have to skip your coaching.
I’ll be there tomorrow to take care of my son
Will talk to you later. I’m busy right now.
She hit send without a second thought, exhaling sharply as she put the phone onto the centre table. The screen dimmed, but the lingering frustration gnawed at her.
Rubbing her temples, as she lifted her gaze, she caught sight of Patode reaching into the dustbin, his fingers curling around something buried beneath scraps of discarded paper and crumpled garbage. A moment later, he straightened, his smirk widening as he held up the tangled mangalsutra between his fingers. The delicate black beads and gold pendant were smeared with grime, a stark and almost poetic contrast to what it was meant to symbolize. A sacred token of marriage, now sullied, discarded like something meaningless.
Patode turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable, though his eyes held something sharp—something calculated. He let the mangalsutra dangle between them, swaying slightly, a silent challenge in his stance.
"Alright, Shipra," he said, his voice steady and deliberate, each word measured with intent. His dark eyes held hers, searching, unyielding. "If you're still unsure, let me make this crystal clear for you."
He leaned in slightly, his presence commanding yet composed. "Answer me this—why are you really here?"
Shipra blinked at the sudden shift in his tone. "What do you mean, Patode? I came here to seek your help. And… to get my mangalsutra," she replied cautiously, her eyes flickering between his face and the necklace in his hand.
"Anything else?" His voice was smooth, laced with something deeper—something that made the air between them feel heavier.
Shipra remained silent, her brows knitting together as she tried to decipher the intent behind his words. The way he was looking at her sent an unfamiliar ripple through her, a strange mix of apprehension and something she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name.
Patode exhaled a soft, mocking laugh, shaking his head. “Whom are you trying to fool, Shipra?” he asked, his voice laced with a knowing amusement. "Me?Namrata? Or Yourself?"
She frowned, shifting uncomfortably, but he didn’t give her room to respond.
“The real reason you’re here, Shipra,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, smoother, each word deliberately etched with a razor-sharp edge. He took a slow step forward, his gaze locked onto hers, unwavering, as if stripping away every flimsy excuse she might’ve clung to. “It’s because your pathetic excuse of a husband has let you down—again. Because, yet again, he’s shoved his responsibilities onto your shoulders without a second thought, without an ounce of regret, leaving you to bear the weight of everything he’s too weak to handle.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch between them, thick and suffocating, the air charged with an undeniable tension. His words hung there, heavy, impossible to ignore. Then he leaned in slightly, his voice bolder now, carrying an edge of authority that demanded not just attention, but submission to the truth.
“You’re here because, for the first time in your shackled-up life, you’ve found an escape—a crack in the prison walls he’s built around you. An escape from his control, his indifference, from the suffocating neglect that’s been slowly draining the life out of you, bit by bit.”
Taking another step closer his eyes darkened with something primal, a flicker of triumph mingled with raw, unfiltered desire.
“You’re here because I’ve made you feel something you’ve been starved of for far too long. And no, Shipra,” he added, his voice softening just enough to coil around her like velvet, “it’s not just about the blissful sex we’ve shared these past few days—though you can’t deny that either.” His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. “It’s more than that. It’s how I’ve made you feel since the moment you stepped into my world.”
He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, his words a seductive whisper laced with undeniable truth. “I’ve treated you like a woman who’s desired, not dismissed. A woman who’s valued, not used. Not an object, not an obligation, but someone real—alive. I’ve peeled back the layers of burden, the years of buried desires, the ache of being unseen, unheard, untouched.”
His hand hovered near her face, not touching, just close enough to remind her of every place he had touched before. “And because of that, you find yourself here again, standing in front of me, searching for solace, for relief from the emptiness you return to every day. You’re here because that life—the one you share with him—feels lifeless, a chain you can’t break. But with me, you’ve tasted freedom.”
His voice dropped to a husky whisper, the final blow delivered with devastating precision. “You’re here because, once again, you needed to feel something real. You needed to be seen. To be wanted. You needed me.”
Patode’s continued, his words raw and unapologetic pushing Shipra into the web manipulation. “Whether you admit it or not, I am the only man in your life right now who can provide you the emotional support and physical pleasure you have always wished for. You may not be certain, but deep down, you feel the comfort I offer. I am the man you can rely on, the one who sees you, the one who understands what you need even when you refuse to say it aloud.”
He let his words sink in, watching her closely. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.
“You didn’t come to me just for help in getting leave, Shipra,” he pressed, his voice deepening, his eyes never leaving hers. “You came because you wanted to be here. With me.”
Shipra’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, her emotions warring within her.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Shipra.” His voice was almost a whisper now, the air between them charged. “Tell me this is nothing more than a friendly favor, that I mean nothing more to you than just a colleague helping out. Say it.”
He extended the mangalsutra toward her, his meaning clear.
"Say it, and I’ll hand this over. You can take it and be on your way. Go back to your husband, to your burdened marriage, to a man who sees you as nothing more than an obligation." His smirk faded, his gaze sharpening.
"But if you can’t say it…" He took another step closer, erasing the space between them, his presence overwhelming. "Then stop hesitating. Stop clinging to this illusion of propriety. Stop pretending this isn’t exactly what you want."
Shipra’s heart pounded against her ribs, her throat tightening. She felt cornered—not by his words, but by the truth in them.
"Accept it, Shipra," Patode said, his voice now holding a quiet command. "Accept me as your man."
He wasn’t merely speaking anymore. He was asserting his dominance, staking his claim—not just over the moment, but over her.
Patode had played it safe long enough, teasing, coaxing, waiting for Shipra to fully acknowledge what was already happening between them. But that patience was wearing thin. He knew that once she returned to Alok, she would slip back into the role of the dutiful wife, bound by routine and obligation. He couldn’t allow that. Before she walked out of his door, before she even thought of stepping back into that life, he needed to leave an imprint on her—not just in her thoughts, but deep within her.
She needed to understand—no, feel—that she belonged to him now.
Patode took one last look at Shipra, his gaze unreadable, before placing the mangalsutra onto the center table beside her phone with a deliberate motion. The clinking sound of the beads against the wooden surface echoed in the tense silence between them.
He straightened, exuding an air of quiet authority, and spoke with finality.
"There it is, Shipra—your mangalsutra," he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something that lingered between a challenge and an invitation. "I’m going to take a shower now. You can pick it up and leave if you’re still unsure about your feelings, if you're still clinging to that life, to that man who doesn’t see you the way I do.” His eyes flickered over her one last time, piercing, assessing. “Or…You can accept what you already know to be true and join us.”
A slow smirk curled on his lips as he turned toward Namrata, shifting his attention to the woman who had been watching the entire exchange with silent amusement. "What about you, Namrata?" he asked smoothly, tilting his head slightly. "Are you having second thoughts too?"
Namrata scoffed, a wicked grin stretching across her face. "Not at all, Patode," she said, pushing herself up from the couch with effortless grace. "I was just waiting for you two to finish your little moment. I am done explaining Shipra myself. If she doesn't understand her own feelings even after all that had happened, it's her loss."
Without another word, she sauntered forward gliding past Shipra, her movements confident and eager, and fell into step behind Patode as he made his way toward the bedroom.
That left Shipra standing alone, her heart pounding, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. The mangalsutra lay in front of her—a symbol of everything she was supposed to be, everything she was meant to uphold.
And yet, the open bedroom door ahead of her seemed to hold something else entirely. A different kind of promise. A different kind of belonging.
The choice was hers.
End of Chapter 30: An Illusion of Escape: Part 1
"Please, come in, ladies. Sorry I couldn’t make it to your place," Patode greeted them with a welcoming smile, gesturing them to come inside.
Namrata smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, don’t be so modest, Patode. You just wanted to lure us back into your little sex dungeon, didn’t you?" she teased, nudging Shipra playfully.
Patode chuckled, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Come on, Namrata, don’t paint me in such a poor light. It's nothing like that," he replied smoothly. "Handling the campaign work for the entire district is exhausting, both physically and mentally. It’s not easy being me, you know."
Shipra gave Namrata a pointed look before stepping in. "We understand, Patode. Don’t pay attention to Namrata’s loose talk. She has no idea how taxing fieldwork can be. Really, it’s no trouble," she said, attempting to downplay the teasing.
Namrata scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. I may not know about fieldwork, but I sure as hell know what left our macho man so drained," she quipped, a wicked grin spreading across her face. Her eyes flicked meaningfully toward Shipra, her words carrying an unmistakable hint—clearly referencing the multiple sex sessions between Shipra and Patode.
Shipra’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, fidgeting with the edge of her Pallu. Patode, on the other hand, leaned back comfortably, grinning like a man thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Now, now, Namrata," he said, raising a hand in mock defense. "No need to pull Shipra’s leg. She’s clearly troubled already." He turned toward Shipra, his tone shifting to something more genuine. "Have a seat, Shipra. Tell me how I can help."
Shipra hesitated before finally settling into a chair. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before speaking in a low voice. "It’s about my son, Aarav. He’s been sick since yesterday, and I need to go to Pune to be with him. But…" Her voice trailed off, uncertainty clouding her features.
"But?" Patode prompted, his brows knitting together as he studied her carefully. "Speak freely, Shipra ma’am. Nothing you say here will leave this room. That’s a promise."
Before Shipra could say another word, Namrata jumped in, unable to contain herself. "But she doesn’t want to deal with that bastard Toppo," she interjected bluntly. "He’s been trying to get into her pants ever since she got her transfer order. Fucking creep."
"Yeah," Shipra sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. "And I’m sure he won’t grant me leave, not with this campaign in full swing." Her voice carried a mix of helplessness and resentment.
She hesitated for a moment before looking up at Patode, her eyes searching his face. "I thought you might be able to help," she admitted cautiously. "But if it’s too much, Patode, you can say no. You’ve already done so much for me—I don’t want to impose. I'll understand," she added, her voice softer now, laced with genuine gratitude.
Patode blinked, then suddenly burst into laughter—loud and unrestrained. His deep chuckles echoed through the room, making both women exchange puzzled glances.
"What’s so funny?" Shipra asked, narrowing her eyes.
Patode wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, his chuckles settling into a knowing smirk. "Oh, nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It’s just that… when Namrata called, I thought you were finally going to ask me to get you transferred out of here after what happened between us last night." He leaned back, stretching his arms with a smug grin, his mind already working ahead.
In truth, he had been considering sending Shipra away from Ambruj for a few days anyway—her absence would give him the freedom to focus on eliminating Saad without unnecessary distractions. And now, here she was, unknowingly making things easier for him, placing herself exactly where he needed her to be. His laughter wasn’t just relief at realizing she had accepted their relationship; it was the satisfaction of watching her unknowingly play right into his plans.
But then, he caught the sharp glare in Shipra’s eyes, and he knew better than to let his amusement show any further.
His expression quickly shifted as he composed himself, realizing that this was no time for jokes. "I’m sorry, Shipra. That was inconsiderate of me," he admitted, his tone more serious now. "I know this must be incredibly stressful for you."
His amusement quickly faded into something more calculated, more deliberate. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But let me assure you, you’re worried over nothing."
Without another word, Patode pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts with practiced ease. His fingers hovered for a second before he tapped the screen, placing a call.
"Give me a minute," he murmured, his voice tinged with authority. "I’ll get this sorted right now."
"Good evening, Toppo sir! How are you?" Patode greeted smoothly, his voice laced with an easy confidence as he placed the call on speaker.
A gruff chuckle came from the other end. "Ah, Patode! I’m doing well. And you?" Toppo replied cautiously sensing Patode is with someone since he addressed him so formally.
"Absolutely fine, sir," Patode replied, exchanging a brief glance with Shipra. Then, his lips curled into a knowing smirk as he leaned back in his chair. "I hope the file I sent you today met your expectations?"
There was a brief pause before Toppo responded, his voice lower, tinged with something unreadable. "Yes… very much so."
Patode’s smirk deepened. His words were intentionally layered, carrying a meaning that only he and Toppo truly understood. The ‘file’ he referred to wasn’t just some routine campaign document—it was a carefully edited clip from last night, a personal glimpse into Shipra’s surrender, recorded without her knowledge.
"Great!" Patode said casually, turning his attention back to Shipra, who remained oblivious to the true nature of their conversation. He shifted gears seamlessly. "Sir, I wanted to talk to you about something important. Since we’ve already completed 90% of our campaign target, I was thinking Shipra ma’am could take a short break. She’s been working tirelessly ever since she joined the branch, and as you know, Kasegaon isn’t the easiest place to manage. A little time off would do her some good."
His voice was smooth, persuasive, deliberately painting himself as the considerate colleague who valued his team’s well-being. But beneath the surface, both he and Toppo knew the real reason behind this request.
Patode wasn’t just making things easier for Shipra—he was clearing his own path, setting the stage for what was to come. And from the knowing silence on the other end, Patode could tell that Toppo had already figured it out.
"I understand, Patode, but this campaign has been directly organized by the Head Office, and I have been made the overseeing authority for it. I cannot afford any hiccups in the execution, especially not from Shipra’s underperforming branch," Toppo’s tone hardened. "I cannot grant her leave at this critical juncture. The same applies to any other branch head under my jurisdiction, and—"
"Oh, come on, sir! You're doubting my capabilities?" Patode interrupted smoothly, his tone laced with casual confidence. "You know me better than that. I can personally guarantee that the Kasegaon branch will top the entire zone in this campaign. And if it doesn’t, you can transfer me instead," he added, letting the challenge linger in the air.
Toppo let out a dry chuckle, though there was an underlying edge to it. "It’s not about that, Patode. I’m well aware of your capabilities. The… file you sent today made that very clear," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a hidden message.
Patode smirked. The double meaning wasn’t lost on him. The ‘file’ wasn’t just a campaign progress report—it was a carefully curated piece of leverage, proof that Patode knew how to keep his allies entertained and in check.
"But," Toppo continued, his voice returning to its usual condescending drawl, "if Shipra has a problem, she should be the one to speak to me directly. You don’t need to vouch for her."
"Of course, sir. Here Shipra ma'am," Patode replied without hesitation. He turned to Shipra and handed over the phone as he casually shifted his position, stepping around the couch and positioning himself behind her.
Shipra hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting the phone. She took a deep breath and brought it to closer to her.
"Yes, Shipra," Toppo’s voice came through, smooth yet sharp. "What’s the matter? I thought you’d be able to handle Kasegaon, but it seems you’re already finding it difficult to handle yourself."
Shipra ignored the jab, keeping her voice soft and measured. "Good evening, sir. It’s nothing work-related. I have a personal emergency. My son has been sick since yesterday, and my husband is preoccupied with his commitments. If you could grant me leave for a couple of days, I would be extremely grateful."
There was silence on the line for a brief moment.
Toppo leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Tch… what can you expect from an offspring of a wimp like Alok?" he thought with disdain.
Finally, he spoke. "I don’t usually entertain such requests, Shipra, but…" he let out a dramatic sigh, "Patode ji is a valuable asset to the bank. He has sourced a great deal of business for us over the years and, more importantly, is a man of his word. Since he has personally assured me of the campaign’s success, and since this concerns your child, I will permit your leave."
Shipra felt a wave of relief but kept her composure.
"However," Toppo continued, his tone firm, leaving no room for negotiation, "I expect you to remain available over the phone at all times. I need regular updates on the campaign, and you will ensure that your absence does not disrupt the momentum. Furthermore, I expect you back in the office by Tuesday. No exceptions. Is that clear, Shipra?"
Shipra swallowed hard, recognizing the authoritative finality in his voice. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
"Good. Don’t make me regret this—and don’t forget to express your gratitude to Mr. Patode," Toppo added, his tone laced with subtle amusement. Then, without waiting for a response, he shifted his attention. "Alright, Patode, we’ll talk later." And with that, he abruptly ended the call.
"There, problem solved," Patode declared with a triumphant smirk as his hands found their way to Shipra’s shoulders. His fingers pressed into her tense muscles, working in slow, deliberate motions, as if kneading away not just the stress but the hesitation lingering within her.
“I told you Patode would handle it. You were worrying for nothing, Shipra,” Namrata chimed in, her tone light yet laced with a knowing edge. She leaned back, crossing her arms as she cast Shipra a pointed look. “And now, you can go ahead and inform Mr. Future IAS that he’s free to focus on his oh-so-important coaching. No need to burden himself with something as insignificant as his own sick child,” she added, the sarcasm dripping thick in her voice.
Shipra hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the phone in her lap. She knew Namrata had a point, but something inside her resisted the idea of texting Alok right away. A part of her wanted to see if he would call her first, if he would at least pretend to be concerned. But deep down, she already knew the answer.
Patode, ever observant, picked up on her reluctance. His hands didn’t stop their slow, knowing ministrations as he leaned in slightly, his voice low, smooth. “I’m sure Alok has his own struggles, but honestly what could be more important than one’s own child?” He let the question hang in the air, his tone carefully crafted—understanding yet subtly laced with doubt, feeding into the resentment already brewing inside her.
Shipra swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on her just as his fingers did, expertly loosening her defenses.
Patode’s smirk barely faltered, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes as he stepped away from Shipra. Feigned disappointment. Calculated restraint. “I have to say, I’m a little hurt, Shipra,” he murmured, shaking his head as if her reluctance had wounded him. His hands left her shoulders, and he strolled away with deliberate slowness, putting just enough distance between them to let his silence sink in. “After everything we’ve been through, I didn’t expect you to be so hesitant with me. If you had just told me this sooner, I would have personally driven you to Pune today itself.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. The room felt colder in the absence of his touch, and Shipra immediately felt the shift. A strange pang of guilt settled in her chest, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She hesitated, her thoughts a tangled mess, before finally rising from the couch and stepping toward him.
Softly, tentatively, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “It’s not like that, Patode,” she said, her voice gentle, almost pleading. “You’ve already done so much for me ever since I came here. I didn’t want you to feel like I’m just using you to get my way.”
Patode turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. The air between them thickened, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken desires. He let the silence stretch, drawing her in, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, smooth—tinged with something darker, something laced with quiet authority.
“It seems you still don’t trust me, Shipra,” he murmured, his tone almost thoughtful as he reached up, gently taking her hand from his shoulder and pushing it away. The small rejection sent a subtle shiver through her, as if her hesitation has hurt him. “All that talk about me being ‘your man’… was that just heat-of-the-moment nonsense? Drunken rambling? Empty words that meant nothing?”
His words were not accusatory, not outright cruel, but they pressed into her like a blade, prodding at something deep within her, testing the ground he had been carefully cultivating between them.
Shipra swallowed, her throat dry. “That’s not true, Patode,” she countered quickly, though her voice carried a slight tremor. She forced herself to meet his gaze, not wanting him to sense the storm of doubt and conflict brewing inside her. “You have my trust, and you know that.”
Patode said nothing. He merely watched her, his silence stretching, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating at the same time.
“And what I said yesterday…” Shipra hesitated, feeling heat rise to her face. “Yes, maybe some of it was just… sex talk. Words said in a moment of passion, under the influence. But…”
She trailed off, the weight of her own words pressing down on her.
Patode’s eyes darkened, his interest piqued. Instead of closing the distance between them, he did the opposite. He turned away, stepping further from her, his posture unreadable. “But what, Shipra?” he asked, his tone firm, laced with an edge of something raw—something that made her breath hitch. “Last night and again this morning—it wasn’t just sex. Not for me. It was more than a physical connection, and I refuse to believe it was just a fleeting moment of passion for you either. Was it, Shipra?”
His words sent a shiver through her. "I don't know Patode," she admitted, her voice laden with uncertainty. "It's all very new for me, very confusing," She exhaled shakily, staring down at the floor as if the answers she sought were etched into the tiles. Slowly she lifted her gaze, her eyes locking onto his. The intensity in his stare made her stomach tighten,"I am not sure what we have Patode. All I know..," Shipra tried to speak—to confess whatever it was clawing at her insides—but before she could form the words, her phone pinged with a WhatsApp message.
She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting together as she read the text.
Did you talk about taking leave with your superior?
It was from Alok.
A simple, harmless question—one that should have been routine, considerate even. But in that moment, it felt like a slap.
Shipra had expected more from him after their tense argument in the morning. She had expected at least a call, an ounce of concern, maybe even a brief information about Aarav’s condition. Instead, all she got was this dry, impersonal message. No warmth. No apology. No effort.
Her grip on the phone tightened, irritation simmering beneath her skin. It wasn’t just this message—it was the pattern, the constant lack of emotional investment from Alok that had turned their marriage into a hollow, mechanical arrangement. The realization cut deep, leaving behind an ache she had long stopped acknowledging.
A humorless scoff left her lips as she typed out a curt response. Her finger moved furiously over the keypad as she typed the reply.
Yes.
Don’t worry, you won’t have to skip your coaching.
I’ll be there tomorrow to take care of my son
Will talk to you later. I’m busy right now.
She hit send without a second thought, exhaling sharply as she put the phone onto the centre table. The screen dimmed, but the lingering frustration gnawed at her.
Rubbing her temples, as she lifted her gaze, she caught sight of Patode reaching into the dustbin, his fingers curling around something buried beneath scraps of discarded paper and crumpled garbage. A moment later, he straightened, his smirk widening as he held up the tangled mangalsutra between his fingers. The delicate black beads and gold pendant were smeared with grime, a stark and almost poetic contrast to what it was meant to symbolize. A sacred token of marriage, now sullied, discarded like something meaningless.
Patode turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable, though his eyes held something sharp—something calculated. He let the mangalsutra dangle between them, swaying slightly, a silent challenge in his stance.
"Alright, Shipra," he said, his voice steady and deliberate, each word measured with intent. His dark eyes held hers, searching, unyielding. "If you're still unsure, let me make this crystal clear for you."
He leaned in slightly, his presence commanding yet composed. "Answer me this—why are you really here?"
Shipra blinked at the sudden shift in his tone. "What do you mean, Patode? I came here to seek your help. And… to get my mangalsutra," she replied cautiously, her eyes flickering between his face and the necklace in his hand.
"Anything else?" His voice was smooth, laced with something deeper—something that made the air between them feel heavier.
Shipra remained silent, her brows knitting together as she tried to decipher the intent behind his words. The way he was looking at her sent an unfamiliar ripple through her, a strange mix of apprehension and something she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name.
Patode exhaled a soft, mocking laugh, shaking his head. “Whom are you trying to fool, Shipra?” he asked, his voice laced with a knowing amusement. "Me?Namrata? Or Yourself?"
She frowned, shifting uncomfortably, but he didn’t give her room to respond.
“The real reason you’re here, Shipra,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, smoother, each word deliberately etched with a razor-sharp edge. He took a slow step forward, his gaze locked onto hers, unwavering, as if stripping away every flimsy excuse she might’ve clung to. “It’s because your pathetic excuse of a husband has let you down—again. Because, yet again, he’s shoved his responsibilities onto your shoulders without a second thought, without an ounce of regret, leaving you to bear the weight of everything he’s too weak to handle.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch between them, thick and suffocating, the air charged with an undeniable tension. His words hung there, heavy, impossible to ignore. Then he leaned in slightly, his voice bolder now, carrying an edge of authority that demanded not just attention, but submission to the truth.
“You’re here because, for the first time in your shackled-up life, you’ve found an escape—a crack in the prison walls he’s built around you. An escape from his control, his indifference, from the suffocating neglect that’s been slowly draining the life out of you, bit by bit.”
Taking another step closer his eyes darkened with something primal, a flicker of triumph mingled with raw, unfiltered desire.
“You’re here because I’ve made you feel something you’ve been starved of for far too long. And no, Shipra,” he added, his voice softening just enough to coil around her like velvet, “it’s not just about the blissful sex we’ve shared these past few days—though you can’t deny that either.” His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. “It’s more than that. It’s how I’ve made you feel since the moment you stepped into my world.”
He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, his words a seductive whisper laced with undeniable truth. “I’ve treated you like a woman who’s desired, not dismissed. A woman who’s valued, not used. Not an object, not an obligation, but someone real—alive. I’ve peeled back the layers of burden, the years of buried desires, the ache of being unseen, unheard, untouched.”
His hand hovered near her face, not touching, just close enough to remind her of every place he had touched before. “And because of that, you find yourself here again, standing in front of me, searching for solace, for relief from the emptiness you return to every day. You’re here because that life—the one you share with him—feels lifeless, a chain you can’t break. But with me, you’ve tasted freedom.”
His voice dropped to a husky whisper, the final blow delivered with devastating precision. “You’re here because, once again, you needed to feel something real. You needed to be seen. To be wanted. You needed me.”
Patode’s continued, his words raw and unapologetic pushing Shipra into the web manipulation. “Whether you admit it or not, I am the only man in your life right now who can provide you the emotional support and physical pleasure you have always wished for. You may not be certain, but deep down, you feel the comfort I offer. I am the man you can rely on, the one who sees you, the one who understands what you need even when you refuse to say it aloud.”
He let his words sink in, watching her closely. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.
“You didn’t come to me just for help in getting leave, Shipra,” he pressed, his voice deepening, his eyes never leaving hers. “You came because you wanted to be here. With me.”
Shipra’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, her emotions warring within her.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Shipra.” His voice was almost a whisper now, the air between them charged. “Tell me this is nothing more than a friendly favor, that I mean nothing more to you than just a colleague helping out. Say it.”
He extended the mangalsutra toward her, his meaning clear.
"Say it, and I’ll hand this over. You can take it and be on your way. Go back to your husband, to your burdened marriage, to a man who sees you as nothing more than an obligation." His smirk faded, his gaze sharpening.
"But if you can’t say it…" He took another step closer, erasing the space between them, his presence overwhelming. "Then stop hesitating. Stop clinging to this illusion of propriety. Stop pretending this isn’t exactly what you want."
Shipra’s heart pounded against her ribs, her throat tightening. She felt cornered—not by his words, but by the truth in them.
"Accept it, Shipra," Patode said, his voice now holding a quiet command. "Accept me as your man."
He wasn’t merely speaking anymore. He was asserting his dominance, staking his claim—not just over the moment, but over her.
Patode had played it safe long enough, teasing, coaxing, waiting for Shipra to fully acknowledge what was already happening between them. But that patience was wearing thin. He knew that once she returned to Alok, she would slip back into the role of the dutiful wife, bound by routine and obligation. He couldn’t allow that. Before she walked out of his door, before she even thought of stepping back into that life, he needed to leave an imprint on her—not just in her thoughts, but deep within her.
She needed to understand—no, feel—that she belonged to him now.
Patode took one last look at Shipra, his gaze unreadable, before placing the mangalsutra onto the center table beside her phone with a deliberate motion. The clinking sound of the beads against the wooden surface echoed in the tense silence between them.
He straightened, exuding an air of quiet authority, and spoke with finality.
"There it is, Shipra—your mangalsutra," he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something that lingered between a challenge and an invitation. "I’m going to take a shower now. You can pick it up and leave if you’re still unsure about your feelings, if you're still clinging to that life, to that man who doesn’t see you the way I do.” His eyes flickered over her one last time, piercing, assessing. “Or…You can accept what you already know to be true and join us.”
A slow smirk curled on his lips as he turned toward Namrata, shifting his attention to the woman who had been watching the entire exchange with silent amusement. "What about you, Namrata?" he asked smoothly, tilting his head slightly. "Are you having second thoughts too?"
Namrata scoffed, a wicked grin stretching across her face. "Not at all, Patode," she said, pushing herself up from the couch with effortless grace. "I was just waiting for you two to finish your little moment. I am done explaining Shipra myself. If she doesn't understand her own feelings even after all that had happened, it's her loss."
Without another word, she sauntered forward gliding past Shipra, her movements confident and eager, and fell into step behind Patode as he made his way toward the bedroom.
That left Shipra standing alone, her heart pounding, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. The mangalsutra lay in front of her—a symbol of everything she was supposed to be, everything she was meant to uphold.
And yet, the open bedroom door ahead of her seemed to hold something else entirely. A different kind of promise. A different kind of belonging.
The choice was hers.
End of Chapter 30: An Illusion of Escape: Part 1
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