Adultery A SOUTH INDIAN WIFE'S -Unspoken Flames

[thirddemodreamer]

A Return to Professionalism

The next morning, Vanitha woke gently—morning light filtered through the window, touching her face, offering quiet calm. She rose, starting her office prep. After bathing, she stood in the bedroom, a cotton towel wrapped around her. Choosing a saree, yesterday’s incident made her pause with caution—she resolved to project professionalism today. She slipped on a black bra, tied a green petticoat at her waist, and selected a dark green cotton saree—thick, opaque, office-appropriate. Tucking it neatly above her navel, fully covering her waist, she paired it with a black blouse—the saree dbangd softly, lending dignity. Tying her hair in a tight bun, she spritzed light perfume.
Vanitha: Everything professional today, she murmured inwardly, boarding the cab.
At the quarters, Sumithra and Mani waited—Sumithra in a red saree with a small basket, Mani in a grey shirt, a small bag slung over, his face uneasy. Vanitha stepped out.
Vanitha: "Hello, akka," she greeted Sumithra with a smile, giving Mani a curt nod.
Vanitha: "Mani," she said, avoiding his gaze, walking inside.
Mani’s face flickered with disappointment.
Mani: "Madam, come," he mumbled, sensing her distance, his head dipping.
Vanitha walked with Sumithra, pausing at the entrance.
Vanitha: "Mani, give me the files," she said professionally, taking them. "Get these documents from the office," she added, her tone steady.
Her voice held firmness and distance. She joined Sumithra at the dining table, sharing breakfast—pongal and vada Sumithra brought from a hotel. Over food, Sumithra spoke of her son’s health.
Sumithra: "Madam, he’s a bit better, but the fever’s not gone," she said.
Vanitha: "Akka, try warm water wipes. For kids, a little ginger tea helps," she offered, sharing a small smile—her warmth bonded with Sumithra.
Mani returned, spotting Vanitha’s empty cup, feeling her avoidance. His face fell, yesterday’s mistake resurfacing.
Mani: Why did I act like that? I’ve never done this before, he berated himself, guilt settling in.
Vanitha handed him papers.
Vanitha: "Give these to the office, Mani. Get some stationery too," she said, eyes fixed on the files, not him.
Mani returned, passing items to Sumithra.
Sumithra: "Mani, get lunch for both of us," she said.
Mani: "Alright, akka," he mumbled, fully aware of Vanitha’s dismissal.
Mani: I messed up. I need to stay distant, he resolved, leaving with quiet regret.
During lunch, Vanitha and Sumithra chatted lightly.
Sumithra: "Madam, what are your kids up to?"
Vanitha: "They’re studying well, akka," she replied with a laugh.
Mani stood at a distance, watching—regret in his eyes, but he stayed silent. The day passed as usual. In the evening, Vanitha gave Mani completed papers.
Vanitha: "Take these, Mani," she said without a smile, her tone signaling only a formal bond henceforth.
She left for the cab—the breeze nudged her saree, bringing slight relief. At home, she slipped into a red two-piece nightie and sat with the kids, helping with homework.
Vanitha: "Do this sum properly," she explained to her son, sending them to bed.
Vinith was asleep, his steady breathing calming the room. Vanitha lay beside him, reflecting—Mani’s crestfallen face lingered; she hadn’t meant to hurt him, but distance and professionalism were best for both.
Vanitha: I handled today right, she thought, a quiet satisfaction settling in as she closed her eyes.
Her breathing evened, and she drifted into sleep—the room’s soft light enveloped her, a gentle peace blooming in her mind.