Adultery Sakshi's Universe

[yodam69420]

It began with the feeling of heat.
Not from the stove. Not from the noon sun baking the floor tiles.
It was the heat of a gaze. Lingering, silent, heavy. ?️?️?
Sakshi felt it the day she wore her lavender nightie—the one that clung too tightly to her thighs when the fan was off. The one Murugan had jokingly called her "danger dress." She had bent down to retrieve her son’s plastic ball from under the cot, her back arched, the hem riding up just enough. As she rose, she felt it.
Like a shadow on her skin. A hush, a hum, like something sacred and forbidden had just passed through her. Her stomach fluttered.
She turned toward the hallway.
Nothing. Just the sway of the curtain near Ramu’s room. ??️?
But something shifted that day. Some layer peeled back. The quiet weight of attention followed her like perfume.
Is this what it feels like to be seen again? To be noticed—not as a mother, not as a wife—but as a woman? As a body?
That night, as she brushed her hair in front of the mirror, she murmured aloud to her reflection, "He’s watching me. I can feel it."
Murugan was in the bathroom, singing an off-key tune and splashing water. Their son was asleep, arms and legs sprawled in starfish formation, breathing slow and loud. ???
She bit her lower lip. A memory sparked.
SS... Soothu Sakshi.
It echoed like a chant in her skull. College days. Whispered behind notebooks, scribbled in crude handwriting on library desks and bathroom walls. The name had followed her like a rumor and a blessing—obscene, sticky, impossible to ignore. Boys used to watch her walk to class just to catch the sway of her hips, the bounce of her chest.
The name wasn’t cruel. It was... accurate. ???
She’d hated it at first. Flushed with shame every time it echoed from behind. Then, slowly, she grew into it. Owned it. Wore it like a challenge. Like scent. Like armor.
I used to love that attention. Used to crave the heat of eyes on me. It made me feel alive. Desired. Dangerous.
That girl, the one who’d flash a smile at the boy who stared too long—she was buried deep beneath the layers of wife, mother, cook, cleaner, caregiver.
But Ramu’s gaze... it dug her out.
How long has it been since I felt that spark? That pulse between my thighs, not because of duty or routine, but because I’m wanted? Really wanted.
The next morning, she wore a low-neck cotton blouse, faded peach. Nothing dramatic. But it clung softly around her waist and loosened at the neck just enough to slip and tease when she leaned forward. When she swept the corridor, she slowed down near his door. ???
She didn’t need to look. She felt him. On the other side of the curtain.

Watching.
Judging.
Worshipping.
And she—she was beginning to offer herself as an altar.
If he’s watching, let him. Let him see what Murugan takes for granted. Let him remember what it feels like to ache for something just out of reach.
That afternoon, when she dried clothes, she hung her petticoat and blouse facing his window. A breeze picked up, fluttering the fabric like a tease. It clung to the wire before lifting gently, exposing lace and curve. ???
Her phone buzzed. A message from her old college group.
Remember Soothu Sakshi? someone had posted, along with a laughing emoji.
She smirked. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
"She’s back," she whispered instead.
The old girl with the wicked grin. The one who liked to be seen. The one who turned the gaze of others into her personal spotlight.
Maybe I needed a reason to wake her up. Maybe Ramu’s stare is just that—a mirror. A mirror that says, yes, you’re still that girl. Still that fire.
That evening, she passed his door again.
This time, she paused.
She adjusted her saree pleats slowly, deliberately. Tugged the fabric over her hip, then tucked it tighter than necessary. The movement was casual—if someone was watching casually.
But to Ramu, it would be a prayer. A permission. An invitation. ???
The curtain twitched. Just slightly. Just enough.
Her heart fluttered. Not with fear. With power.
And her smile—feral, knowing, hungry—returned. It curled at the corners of her mouth like flame.
I could destroy him with a look. I could bring him to his knees. And the best part? He wants it.
She didn’t say a word. But in her head, the name pulsed.
Soothu Sakshi.
She was back. And she had an audience. ????