14-04-2025, 12:08 AM
(This post was last modified: 14-04-2025, 12:10 AM by shamson9571. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Episode 16: Stillness in Glances
The monsoon clouds hung low over the city, casting a soft grey wash over the college grounds. The sharp light of the usual sun was missing, replaced by something gentler, cooler—an atmosphere that made everything feel a little slower, a little quieter.
Inside the classroom, Meera Ma’am was mid-lecture, chalk tapping rhythmically on the board.
She wore a deep teal saree, simple but elegant. The blouse was plain—quarter sleeves, modest neckline—but it hugged her back perfectly. Her hair was tied into a low bun today, loose strands falling behind her ear as she tilted her head slightly while writing.
Arjun sat in his usual seat, pretending to copy notes, his pen barely touching the page.
His eyes weren’t on the board.
They were on her.
Every motion—every shift in her weight as she stepped back to explain something—held his full attention. The curve of her waist, the way her blouse stretched slightly when she reached to underline a term, the gentle pull of the saree pleats around her hips as she walked across the front of the class.
She didn’t know. Or if she did, she gave no sign.
She was focused on the lesson, speaking with her usual calm clarity, unaware of the storm quietly building in the mind of one boy sitting three rows back.
Arjun leaned on one elbow, angling his head like he was reading. But his eyes flicked up—again and again. Just long enough to catch the way the soft fabric hugged her figure as she turned. Just long enough to see the outline of her back when she bent ever so slightly to place a notebook down.
Not her navel. Not yet.
But every glimpse of the bare waist above her pleats brought him closer. It was like fate kept showing him just enough to want more, but never enough to satisfy.
And he couldn’t stop looking.
---
After Class
The bell rang, loud and sharp.
Students packed up. Chairs scbangd the floor. Meera gathered her books without hurry, chatting briefly with a girl who had a doubt. Arjun lingered, pretending to search his bag.
As she moved past him, he caught it again—the faint breeze lifting the pallu just enough for him to see that sliver of waist. Smooth. Unmarked. Untouched.
No navel. Just the edge.
She passed by without noticing.
Her scent—mild sandalwood and ink—followed behind her.
And Arjun stayed frozen, his pulse racing, as if he’d just seen something forbidden but sacred.
---
In His Notebook
Back at home, he opened his textbook but barely turned a page.
Instead, he found himself sketching absently in the corner of his notebook.
Lines curved.
Soft fabric.
Waist.
Saree folds.
He didn’t know what he was drawing—only that it resembled her silhouette more than anything else.
Meera hadn’t looked at him once that day.
She hadn’t caught him.
She hadn’t noticed.
But in Arjun’s mind, she was the only thing that existed.
To be continued…
—
The monsoon clouds hung low over the city, casting a soft grey wash over the college grounds. The sharp light of the usual sun was missing, replaced by something gentler, cooler—an atmosphere that made everything feel a little slower, a little quieter.
Inside the classroom, Meera Ma’am was mid-lecture, chalk tapping rhythmically on the board.
She wore a deep teal saree, simple but elegant. The blouse was plain—quarter sleeves, modest neckline—but it hugged her back perfectly. Her hair was tied into a low bun today, loose strands falling behind her ear as she tilted her head slightly while writing.
Arjun sat in his usual seat, pretending to copy notes, his pen barely touching the page.
His eyes weren’t on the board.
They were on her.
Every motion—every shift in her weight as she stepped back to explain something—held his full attention. The curve of her waist, the way her blouse stretched slightly when she reached to underline a term, the gentle pull of the saree pleats around her hips as she walked across the front of the class.
She didn’t know. Or if she did, she gave no sign.
She was focused on the lesson, speaking with her usual calm clarity, unaware of the storm quietly building in the mind of one boy sitting three rows back.
Arjun leaned on one elbow, angling his head like he was reading. But his eyes flicked up—again and again. Just long enough to catch the way the soft fabric hugged her figure as she turned. Just long enough to see the outline of her back when she bent ever so slightly to place a notebook down.
Not her navel. Not yet.
But every glimpse of the bare waist above her pleats brought him closer. It was like fate kept showing him just enough to want more, but never enough to satisfy.
And he couldn’t stop looking.
---
After Class
The bell rang, loud and sharp.
Students packed up. Chairs scbangd the floor. Meera gathered her books without hurry, chatting briefly with a girl who had a doubt. Arjun lingered, pretending to search his bag.
As she moved past him, he caught it again—the faint breeze lifting the pallu just enough for him to see that sliver of waist. Smooth. Unmarked. Untouched.
No navel. Just the edge.
She passed by without noticing.
Her scent—mild sandalwood and ink—followed behind her.
And Arjun stayed frozen, his pulse racing, as if he’d just seen something forbidden but sacred.
---
In His Notebook
Back at home, he opened his textbook but barely turned a page.
Instead, he found himself sketching absently in the corner of his notebook.
Lines curved.
Soft fabric.
Waist.
Saree folds.
He didn’t know what he was drawing—only that it resembled her silhouette more than anything else.
Meera hadn’t looked at him once that day.
She hadn’t caught him.
She hadn’t noticed.
But in Arjun’s mind, she was the only thing that existed.
To be continued…
—
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