20-03-2025, 12:29 AM
Chapter 13: Vanitha's Reason
The evening light filtered through the curtains of their suburban American home, casting a warm glow across the carefully arranged living room. Vanitha sat cross-legged on the sofa, her posture perfect even in repose, scrolling through the comments on her latest Instagram reel. The video—a graceful demonstration of her morning yoga routine while dbangd in a stunning midnight-blue silk saree—had already garnered thousands of likes. Her fingers, adorned with delicate gold rings, paused over a particularly flattering comment.
Ashok entered with two steaming cups of masala chai, the aroma of cardamom and ginger filling the space between them. He placed one cup on the rosewood coaster before her, his movements deliberate, his expression thoughtful. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air as he settled beside her.
"Your tea, Chellam," he said, his voice gentle
“Thanks da!” She took cup without turning her attention from her phone.
“What are you doing?” Ashok asked worried about her losing herself in her reels.
“I am reading all the comments, don’t know why they are all so vulgar.”
Ashok set his chai down, the ceramic clinking against the wooden side table. The furrow in his brow deepened as he leaned closer to his wife. "What do you mean vulgar?"
Vanitha sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gold of her earring catching the fading light. She turned her phone toward him, then pulled it back, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"I wanted to share something beautiful—something cultural—and this is what happens." Her voice carried a hint of disappointment, though her posture remained unwaveringly dignified. "Listen to these."
She cleared her throat, her pageant-trained diction making even the crude words sound almost formal. "This one says, 'Your husband is the luckiest man alive.
Vanitha scrolled further down, her elegant fingers moving swiftly across the screen as the crease between her brows deepened. "There's more. So much more."
She inhaled deeply, centering herself as she'd learned to do before stepping onto pageant stages. "'I would worship at the temple of your curves,'" she read, her voice steady despite the discomfort in her eyes. "'That saree dbang across your waist should be illegal.'"
Ashok's jaw tightened as he shifted closer, his protective instinct rising. The chai remained untouched, steam no longer rising from the forgotten cups.
"'Your navel is like a whirlpool I want to drown in,'" Vanitha continued, each word more clipped than the last. "'Those graceful movements make me imagine other ways you could bend.'"
She paused, taking another steadying breath.
“You know I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this Instagram thing, but I didn’t want to interfere, but do you think you should continue?”
Ashok asked, his voice gentle yet tinged with concern as he lowered himself onto the edge of their bed. The evening light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across the room where Vanitha sat cross-legged, her phone in hand, reviewing the comments on her latest post.
Vanitha looked up, her perfectly arched eyebrows rising slightly. She set her phone down on the silk bedspread, the screen still illuminated with an image of herself in warrior pose against the backdrop of their apartment's balcony, the American sunset a stark contrast to the Chennai mornings she once photographed.
"What exactly do you mean?" she asked, her voice measured but with an undercurrent of defensiveness. "My wellness account has 136k followers in just few weeks. And this is something I enjoy doing.”
"I know how guys think Vanitha, and most of the comments are from men who aren't appreciating your yoga or your culture," Ashok said, his voice lowering. He reached for her hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm. "They're looking at my wife in a way that makes me uncomfortable."
Vanitha withdrew her hand slowly, setting her phone face-down on the bedspread. The soft silk rippled beneath it like a midnight ocean.
"So I should stop sharing my passion because men can't control their thoughts?" She maintained her perfect posture, chin lifted slightly—the same poise that had won her the crown years ago. "I've worked hard to build this following. My sponsors are finally noticing."
"Your dedication is why I fell in love with you," Ashok continued, his voice softening. "But this isn't a perfect world. The cultural context is different these days. What you intend as art and tradition is being... misinterpreted."
Vanitha's gaze drifted to the small altar they had set up in the corner of their bedroom—a carved wooden shelf holding brass figurines of Lord Murugan and Goddess Parvati, fresh jasmine flowers in a silver bowl, and a small oil lamp that she lit each morning. The familiar sight centered her.
"I understand your concern," she said finally, her voice carrying the measured cadence she'd perfected during countless interviews. "But I won't diminish myself because others choose to be disrespectful. In pageants, I learned to present myself with dignity regardless of how I was perceived."
She reached for her chai, now lukewarm and she stood up and stretched to reveal her midriff and her navel exposed.
“See what I mean” Ashok said closing in on her and smelling her navel.. “any man seeing this on video will lose his mind”
Vanitha shivered involuntarily at his sudden closeness, her breath catching slightly. The familiar warmth of his presence against her skin sent a ripple of sensation through her body, momentarily distracting her from their disagreement.
"That's different," she whispered, her hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder. "You're my husband."
Ashok looked up at her, his eyes dark with an emotion that blended concern with desire. "And that's exactly my point. What we share—this intimacy—it feels wrong having strangers fantasizing about it."
He straightened, gently pulling her silk top back down over her midriff, his fingers lingering briefly against the fabric. "When I see those comments, I imagine thousands of men looking at you the way only I should."
Vanitha's expression softened as she recognized the vulnerability beneath his words. She moved towards him as he grabbed the saree tucked inside under her navel and started to pull it out as he began to kiss her navel deeper.
Vanitha's breath caught in her throat, her argument momentarily forgotten as Ashok's lips pressed against her skin. The sensation sent a current of pleasure coursing through her body, making her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.
"Ashok," she murmured, her pageant-perfect diction giving way to something softer, more intimate. "We were having a discussion."
But her body betrayed her words as she arched slightly into his touch, her hand sliding to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the lingering aroma of chai, creating an intoxicating blend that was uniquely theirs.
Ashok looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire yet still carrying that hint of protective concern. "This is what I'm trying to say, Vanitha. This—" he pressed another kiss just above her navel and started to remove her saree and started to undo her blouse buttons.
His hands moved further up her torso, hesitating for a moment. Vanitha's breath hitched as his fingers slowly traced her breasts, her composure unraveling under his touch. His movements were deliberate, each caress sending a shiver down her spine and igniting a fire she couldn't ignore. She felt the gentle pressure of his palms as he began to massage, her senses overwhelmed by the mixture of sensation and emotion. Her mind struggled to maintain clarity, caught between the seriousness of their conversation and the intensity of their physical connection. Conflicting thoughts gave way to the raw immediacy of her desire.
“And this is exactly what every guy wants to do to you when they see your reels.”
The thought of that immediately made her wet even thought she knows it’s wrong.
Vanitha gasped softly, the reality of his words colliding with the intensity of the moment. Her eyes flickered between his face and his exposed arousal, her composure momentarily fracturing.
"You think this is what they imagine?" she whispered, her voice carrying a new vulnerability beneath its cultured tones.
"I know it is," Ashok replied, his breathing heavier now. "When you bend in that saree, when the fabric clings to you just so—" His words trailed off as his hands moved to her waist, fingers splaying across the silk still dbangd around her hips.
Vanitha felt herself being guided backward until her legs met the edge of their bed. As she sank onto the plush mattress, her saree loosened further, the rich fabric pooling around her like spilled ink.
The contrast between her public persona—poised, perfect, untouchable—and this private surrender stirred something unexpected within her.
"Does it... excite you?" she asked, her voice barely audible as Ashok moved over her. "Knowing they want what only you have?"
The question hung between them, charged with complicated emotions. Ashok paused, his expression shifting from desire to thoughtful consideration. His fingers traced the delicate gold chain at her waist, following its path across her bare skin.
"No," he answered honestly, his eyes meeting hers. "And yes. It makes me protective, possessive even. But knowing you choose me, that this—" his hands pried opened her legs and he positioned himself between them, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "—that this is only for me, it ignites something primal."
Vanitha's hands found his shoulders, her wedding bangles jingling softly as she pulled him closer. The gold of her jewelry caught the last rays of evening light, transforming their bedroom into a sacred space of shadows and gleaming metal.
"I never thought of it that way," she admitted, her composed façade giving way to raw honesty. "When I post those videos, I'm thinking of tradition, of grace—not how men might view them."
Ashok lowered his body to hers, his lips finding the sensitive spot below her ear that always made her shiver. "Your grace is part of what makes you so captivating," he murmured against her skin. "But I worry about the world we're in now. The line between appreciation and objectification has vanished. I know everyone watching your reel wants to have sex with you just like this.
Suddenly something struck in her mind.. she thought even silverfox77, she thought to herself?
The thought of her most frequent commenter—silverfox77, whose flattering words appeared beneath almost every post—flashed unbidden through Vanitha's mind. His profile picture showed only a distinguished silver-streaked temple and jawline, his identity carefully obscured yet somehow familiar. His comments were always more poetic than crude, more appreciative than lewd, but underneath ran a current of unmistakable desire.
"What are you thinking about?" Ashok asked, noticing her momentary distraction, his lips pausing against the hollow of her throat.
Vanitha blinked, banishing the thought. "Nothing," she whispered, pulling him closer, her nails lightly scbanging across his shoulders. "Just... processing what you said."
Ashok moved with deliberate slowness now, his hands tracing the curves of her body with reverent attention. As he was about to cum she pushed him away reminding him of their plan so she didn’t want to obscure her figure with a baby.
Ashok's breath caught, his movements stilling as reality intruded on their passionate moment. Reluctantly, he withdrew, the intensity in his eyes mixing with understanding and a hint of frustration.
"You're right," he said, his voice strained as he fought to regain control. "The timing isn't... we agreed."
Vanitha's chest rose and fell rapidly, her perfectly maintained composure completely undone. She reached up to touch his face, her thumb tracing his lower lip with tenderness.
"Soon," she promised, her voice carrying the same conviction she once used on pageant stages. "But not yet. My sponsorships are just beginning, and once pregnancy changes my body..." She let the thought hang between them.
They lay side by side now, the passion not extinguished but carefully banked like the lamp on their bedroom.
Ashok asked “Baby, may I know if you are trying to distract yourself from having a baby by focusing on Instagram?”
“I haven’t thought about it that way, but that could be a reason also, I truly don’t know da.”
“Let’s start exploring our options for surrogacy first thing tomorrow. I truly don’t want you to be doing these reels for other men’s enjoyment.”
The evening light filtered through the curtains of their suburban American home, casting a warm glow across the carefully arranged living room. Vanitha sat cross-legged on the sofa, her posture perfect even in repose, scrolling through the comments on her latest Instagram reel. The video—a graceful demonstration of her morning yoga routine while dbangd in a stunning midnight-blue silk saree—had already garnered thousands of likes. Her fingers, adorned with delicate gold rings, paused over a particularly flattering comment.
Ashok entered with two steaming cups of masala chai, the aroma of cardamom and ginger filling the space between them. He placed one cup on the rosewood coaster before her, his movements deliberate, his expression thoughtful. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air as he settled beside her.
"Your tea, Chellam," he said, his voice gentle
“Thanks da!” She took cup without turning her attention from her phone.
“What are you doing?” Ashok asked worried about her losing herself in her reels.
“I am reading all the comments, don’t know why they are all so vulgar.”
Ashok set his chai down, the ceramic clinking against the wooden side table. The furrow in his brow deepened as he leaned closer to his wife. "What do you mean vulgar?"
Vanitha sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gold of her earring catching the fading light. She turned her phone toward him, then pulled it back, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"I wanted to share something beautiful—something cultural—and this is what happens." Her voice carried a hint of disappointment, though her posture remained unwaveringly dignified. "Listen to these."
She cleared her throat, her pageant-trained diction making even the crude words sound almost formal. "This one says, 'Your husband is the luckiest man alive.
Vanitha scrolled further down, her elegant fingers moving swiftly across the screen as the crease between her brows deepened. "There's more. So much more."
She inhaled deeply, centering herself as she'd learned to do before stepping onto pageant stages. "'I would worship at the temple of your curves,'" she read, her voice steady despite the discomfort in her eyes. "'That saree dbang across your waist should be illegal.'"
Ashok's jaw tightened as he shifted closer, his protective instinct rising. The chai remained untouched, steam no longer rising from the forgotten cups.
"'Your navel is like a whirlpool I want to drown in,'" Vanitha continued, each word more clipped than the last. "'Those graceful movements make me imagine other ways you could bend.'"
She paused, taking another steadying breath.
“You know I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this Instagram thing, but I didn’t want to interfere, but do you think you should continue?”
Ashok asked, his voice gentle yet tinged with concern as he lowered himself onto the edge of their bed. The evening light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across the room where Vanitha sat cross-legged, her phone in hand, reviewing the comments on her latest post.
Vanitha looked up, her perfectly arched eyebrows rising slightly. She set her phone down on the silk bedspread, the screen still illuminated with an image of herself in warrior pose against the backdrop of their apartment's balcony, the American sunset a stark contrast to the Chennai mornings she once photographed.
"What exactly do you mean?" she asked, her voice measured but with an undercurrent of defensiveness. "My wellness account has 136k followers in just few weeks. And this is something I enjoy doing.”
"I know how guys think Vanitha, and most of the comments are from men who aren't appreciating your yoga or your culture," Ashok said, his voice lowering. He reached for her hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm. "They're looking at my wife in a way that makes me uncomfortable."
Vanitha withdrew her hand slowly, setting her phone face-down on the bedspread. The soft silk rippled beneath it like a midnight ocean.
"So I should stop sharing my passion because men can't control their thoughts?" She maintained her perfect posture, chin lifted slightly—the same poise that had won her the crown years ago. "I've worked hard to build this following. My sponsors are finally noticing."
"Your dedication is why I fell in love with you," Ashok continued, his voice softening. "But this isn't a perfect world. The cultural context is different these days. What you intend as art and tradition is being... misinterpreted."
Vanitha's gaze drifted to the small altar they had set up in the corner of their bedroom—a carved wooden shelf holding brass figurines of Lord Murugan and Goddess Parvati, fresh jasmine flowers in a silver bowl, and a small oil lamp that she lit each morning. The familiar sight centered her.
"I understand your concern," she said finally, her voice carrying the measured cadence she'd perfected during countless interviews. "But I won't diminish myself because others choose to be disrespectful. In pageants, I learned to present myself with dignity regardless of how I was perceived."
She reached for her chai, now lukewarm and she stood up and stretched to reveal her midriff and her navel exposed.
“See what I mean” Ashok said closing in on her and smelling her navel.. “any man seeing this on video will lose his mind”
Vanitha shivered involuntarily at his sudden closeness, her breath catching slightly. The familiar warmth of his presence against her skin sent a ripple of sensation through her body, momentarily distracting her from their disagreement.
"That's different," she whispered, her hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder. "You're my husband."
Ashok looked up at her, his eyes dark with an emotion that blended concern with desire. "And that's exactly my point. What we share—this intimacy—it feels wrong having strangers fantasizing about it."
He straightened, gently pulling her silk top back down over her midriff, his fingers lingering briefly against the fabric. "When I see those comments, I imagine thousands of men looking at you the way only I should."
Vanitha's expression softened as she recognized the vulnerability beneath his words. She moved towards him as he grabbed the saree tucked inside under her navel and started to pull it out as he began to kiss her navel deeper.
Vanitha's breath caught in her throat, her argument momentarily forgotten as Ashok's lips pressed against her skin. The sensation sent a current of pleasure coursing through her body, making her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.
"Ashok," she murmured, her pageant-perfect diction giving way to something softer, more intimate. "We were having a discussion."
But her body betrayed her words as she arched slightly into his touch, her hand sliding to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the lingering aroma of chai, creating an intoxicating blend that was uniquely theirs.
Ashok looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire yet still carrying that hint of protective concern. "This is what I'm trying to say, Vanitha. This—" he pressed another kiss just above her navel and started to remove her saree and started to undo her blouse buttons.
His hands moved further up her torso, hesitating for a moment. Vanitha's breath hitched as his fingers slowly traced her breasts, her composure unraveling under his touch. His movements were deliberate, each caress sending a shiver down her spine and igniting a fire she couldn't ignore. She felt the gentle pressure of his palms as he began to massage, her senses overwhelmed by the mixture of sensation and emotion. Her mind struggled to maintain clarity, caught between the seriousness of their conversation and the intensity of their physical connection. Conflicting thoughts gave way to the raw immediacy of her desire.
“And this is exactly what every guy wants to do to you when they see your reels.”
The thought of that immediately made her wet even thought she knows it’s wrong.
Vanitha gasped softly, the reality of his words colliding with the intensity of the moment. Her eyes flickered between his face and his exposed arousal, her composure momentarily fracturing.
"You think this is what they imagine?" she whispered, her voice carrying a new vulnerability beneath its cultured tones.
"I know it is," Ashok replied, his breathing heavier now. "When you bend in that saree, when the fabric clings to you just so—" His words trailed off as his hands moved to her waist, fingers splaying across the silk still dbangd around her hips.
Vanitha felt herself being guided backward until her legs met the edge of their bed. As she sank onto the plush mattress, her saree loosened further, the rich fabric pooling around her like spilled ink.
The contrast between her public persona—poised, perfect, untouchable—and this private surrender stirred something unexpected within her.
"Does it... excite you?" she asked, her voice barely audible as Ashok moved over her. "Knowing they want what only you have?"
The question hung between them, charged with complicated emotions. Ashok paused, his expression shifting from desire to thoughtful consideration. His fingers traced the delicate gold chain at her waist, following its path across her bare skin.
"No," he answered honestly, his eyes meeting hers. "And yes. It makes me protective, possessive even. But knowing you choose me, that this—" his hands pried opened her legs and he positioned himself between them, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "—that this is only for me, it ignites something primal."
Vanitha's hands found his shoulders, her wedding bangles jingling softly as she pulled him closer. The gold of her jewelry caught the last rays of evening light, transforming their bedroom into a sacred space of shadows and gleaming metal.
"I never thought of it that way," she admitted, her composed façade giving way to raw honesty. "When I post those videos, I'm thinking of tradition, of grace—not how men might view them."
Ashok lowered his body to hers, his lips finding the sensitive spot below her ear that always made her shiver. "Your grace is part of what makes you so captivating," he murmured against her skin. "But I worry about the world we're in now. The line between appreciation and objectification has vanished. I know everyone watching your reel wants to have sex with you just like this.
Suddenly something struck in her mind.. she thought even silverfox77, she thought to herself?
The thought of her most frequent commenter—silverfox77, whose flattering words appeared beneath almost every post—flashed unbidden through Vanitha's mind. His profile picture showed only a distinguished silver-streaked temple and jawline, his identity carefully obscured yet somehow familiar. His comments were always more poetic than crude, more appreciative than lewd, but underneath ran a current of unmistakable desire.
"What are you thinking about?" Ashok asked, noticing her momentary distraction, his lips pausing against the hollow of her throat.
Vanitha blinked, banishing the thought. "Nothing," she whispered, pulling him closer, her nails lightly scbanging across his shoulders. "Just... processing what you said."
Ashok moved with deliberate slowness now, his hands tracing the curves of her body with reverent attention. As he was about to cum she pushed him away reminding him of their plan so she didn’t want to obscure her figure with a baby.
Ashok's breath caught, his movements stilling as reality intruded on their passionate moment. Reluctantly, he withdrew, the intensity in his eyes mixing with understanding and a hint of frustration.
"You're right," he said, his voice strained as he fought to regain control. "The timing isn't... we agreed."
Vanitha's chest rose and fell rapidly, her perfectly maintained composure completely undone. She reached up to touch his face, her thumb tracing his lower lip with tenderness.
"Soon," she promised, her voice carrying the same conviction she once used on pageant stages. "But not yet. My sponsorships are just beginning, and once pregnancy changes my body..." She let the thought hang between them.
They lay side by side now, the passion not extinguished but carefully banked like the lamp on their bedroom.
Ashok asked “Baby, may I know if you are trying to distract yourself from having a baby by focusing on Instagram?”
“I haven’t thought about it that way, but that could be a reason also, I truly don’t know da.”
“Let’s start exploring our options for surrogacy first thing tomorrow. I truly don’t want you to be doing these reels for other men’s enjoyment.”
Her Insta is @radiant_vanitha
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