08-04-2025, 01:56 AM
Episode 7: A Glance Too Long
The second half of the college day was buzzing with energy. Annual Cultural Week had begun, and today was the inter-house dance competition. The auditorium was packed—students in costumes, teachers organizing, loud music filtering down the halls.
Arjun wasn’t interested in the performances. He was there for one reason.
And she walked in like she owned the moment.
Meera Ma’am—in a pastel blue chiffon saree so light, it almost blended with the air. The fabric floated around her, transparent enough to reveal the faintest outline of the blouse beneath, and how the pleats curved softly around her waist.
She wore it with grace, without flash. No jewelry except her usual bangles and a tiny stud in her nose. Her long hair was tied in a loose bun. The pallu clung slightly to her side as she moved—showing just a sliver of her belly, the skin smooth and glowing under the hall lights.
Her navel stayed hidden, just above the pleats, but that somehow made it more unbearable for Arjun.
He sat in the middle row, completely still, trying to look normal while his eyes followed her every movement. She wasn’t performing—just helping backstage, talking to a senior student, adjusting the mic stand—but to him, she was the only thing on stage.
She raised her arm to fix the mic cable and her pallu shifted slightly. The curve of her waist, the soft shadow under the sheer fabric—Arjun’s breath slowed. His fingers gripped the edge of the plastic chair.
He couldn’t look away.
---
Later, in Class
Maths was short today—just twenty minutes. Meera didn’t teach much, just went over some announcements and gave out a worksheet.
Arjun barely heard her.
She stood in front of the class, now with the pallu wrapped tighter across her shoulder. He tried to focus on the paper, but the image of her earlier, walking past in that saree, the glimpse of her bare waist—it kept crashing into his mind like waves.
She looked his way once. Just briefly.
He dropped his eyes, fast.
He didn’t know if she had caught on.
---
In the Staff Room
The staff room was unusually quiet for once. Most of the teachers were still in the auditorium, handling the last-minute wrap-ups from the program. Meera sat near the window, unpinning the microphone clip from her saree blouse, gently rolling her shoulder as if the day’s attention had physically weighed on her.
Priya walked in carrying two cups of tea. “You were the real show today,” she smirked, handing one to Meera.
Meera raised a brow. “Me?”
Priya plopped into the chair opposite. “Don’t play innocent. That saree? The boys in the auditorium looked like they forgot how to blink.”
Meera laughed lightly. “It’s just a pastel saree. I wear these all the time.”
Priya leaned in, teasing. “Not that pastel. And not that sheer. You don’t usually serve ‘classy seduction’ at college.”
Meera rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I wasn’t going for seduction. It’s one of my most comfortable ones. The material breathes.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does. So did half the college watching you float around like a dream" said Priya sipping her tea
“I also know you’re not used to the attention yet. Not this kind.”
Meera nodded, thoughtful. “It’s strange. I didn’t feel uncomfortable… but I was aware. Like the room’s temperature shifted the moment I stepped in.”
“That’s not you being paranoid. That’s you sensing how people carry their gaze,” Priya replied. “You carry yourself differently. Confident, sharp, graceful. That alone is enough to stir a room full of distracted people.”
Meera looked out the window, her voice quieter now. “I just want to teach, Priya. Do my job. Go home. I don’t want my presence to feel like a… distraction.”
“You don’t control how others see you,” Priya said, finishing her tea.
“You just show up, own your space, and hold your line. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
Meera gave her a small, appreciative smile. “I’m still getting used to all of this.”
“You will,” Priya said, standing to leave. “And next time you wear something that graceful, just prepare for people to lose their minds a little.”
Meera laughed softly, the tension easing. But as she sipped her tea, she still felt that awareness lingering under her skin
---
That Night
Arjun lay awake again, staring at the ceiling fan.
He hadn’t seen her navel. Not even a full view of her waist. But the tease of it—the outline, the way the fabric shifted, clung, hinted—was worse. Or better. He didn’t know.
All he knew was, he was gone.
This wasn’t just attraction anymore.
It was obsession.
And she had no idea.
To be continued…
The second half of the college day was buzzing with energy. Annual Cultural Week had begun, and today was the inter-house dance competition. The auditorium was packed—students in costumes, teachers organizing, loud music filtering down the halls.
Arjun wasn’t interested in the performances. He was there for one reason.
And she walked in like she owned the moment.
Meera Ma’am—in a pastel blue chiffon saree so light, it almost blended with the air. The fabric floated around her, transparent enough to reveal the faintest outline of the blouse beneath, and how the pleats curved softly around her waist.
She wore it with grace, without flash. No jewelry except her usual bangles and a tiny stud in her nose. Her long hair was tied in a loose bun. The pallu clung slightly to her side as she moved—showing just a sliver of her belly, the skin smooth and glowing under the hall lights.
Her navel stayed hidden, just above the pleats, but that somehow made it more unbearable for Arjun.
He sat in the middle row, completely still, trying to look normal while his eyes followed her every movement. She wasn’t performing—just helping backstage, talking to a senior student, adjusting the mic stand—but to him, she was the only thing on stage.
She raised her arm to fix the mic cable and her pallu shifted slightly. The curve of her waist, the soft shadow under the sheer fabric—Arjun’s breath slowed. His fingers gripped the edge of the plastic chair.
He couldn’t look away.
---
Later, in Class
Maths was short today—just twenty minutes. Meera didn’t teach much, just went over some announcements and gave out a worksheet.
Arjun barely heard her.
She stood in front of the class, now with the pallu wrapped tighter across her shoulder. He tried to focus on the paper, but the image of her earlier, walking past in that saree, the glimpse of her bare waist—it kept crashing into his mind like waves.
She looked his way once. Just briefly.
He dropped his eyes, fast.
He didn’t know if she had caught on.
---
In the Staff Room
The staff room was unusually quiet for once. Most of the teachers were still in the auditorium, handling the last-minute wrap-ups from the program. Meera sat near the window, unpinning the microphone clip from her saree blouse, gently rolling her shoulder as if the day’s attention had physically weighed on her.
Priya walked in carrying two cups of tea. “You were the real show today,” she smirked, handing one to Meera.
Meera raised a brow. “Me?”
Priya plopped into the chair opposite. “Don’t play innocent. That saree? The boys in the auditorium looked like they forgot how to blink.”
Meera laughed lightly. “It’s just a pastel saree. I wear these all the time.”
Priya leaned in, teasing. “Not that pastel. And not that sheer. You don’t usually serve ‘classy seduction’ at college.”
Meera rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I wasn’t going for seduction. It’s one of my most comfortable ones. The material breathes.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does. So did half the college watching you float around like a dream" said Priya sipping her tea
“I also know you’re not used to the attention yet. Not this kind.”
Meera nodded, thoughtful. “It’s strange. I didn’t feel uncomfortable… but I was aware. Like the room’s temperature shifted the moment I stepped in.”
“That’s not you being paranoid. That’s you sensing how people carry their gaze,” Priya replied. “You carry yourself differently. Confident, sharp, graceful. That alone is enough to stir a room full of distracted people.”
Meera looked out the window, her voice quieter now. “I just want to teach, Priya. Do my job. Go home. I don’t want my presence to feel like a… distraction.”
“You don’t control how others see you,” Priya said, finishing her tea.
“You just show up, own your space, and hold your line. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
Meera gave her a small, appreciative smile. “I’m still getting used to all of this.”
“You will,” Priya said, standing to leave. “And next time you wear something that graceful, just prepare for people to lose their minds a little.”
Meera laughed softly, the tension easing. But as she sipped her tea, she still felt that awareness lingering under her skin
---
That Night
Arjun lay awake again, staring at the ceiling fan.
He hadn’t seen her navel. Not even a full view of her waist. But the tease of it—the outline, the way the fabric shifted, clung, hinted—was worse. Or better. He didn’t know.
All he knew was, he was gone.
This wasn’t just attraction anymore.
It was obsession.
And she had no idea.
To be continued…
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