4 hours ago
Episode 21: Closer Than He Should Be
The morning after felt different.
Arjun stepped into college like something inside him had shifted. The sky was overcast, the breeze cool, but his body felt flushed—like it was carrying heat no one else could see.
Because he remembered.
All of it.
That moment in his room, in the dark, when the image of Meera—her waist, the tight pleats of her saree, the way Priya’s fingers touched exactly where his eyes had burned—had taken him over.
His first.
Not imagined anymore. Felt.
And now, sitting in the middle of his classmates, pretending to be normal, pretending to be just another boy in uniform, he felt like he was hiding a flame under his skin.
---
Third Period – Math Class
Meera walked in right on time.
Her saree was a soft olive green, pleated perfectly, paired with a simple half-sleeved blouse—nothing flashy, nothing dramatic. Her hair was tied back in a single neat braid, no loose strands, no extra effort.
She looked composed. Collected. Like always.
And yet—Arjun’s eyes couldn’t stay still.
Every fold of her saree felt alive to him now. Every move she made brought back what he had imagined the night before. The curve of her waist, the soft line of her side when the fabric pulled, the spot just above her pleats where his thoughts always returned.
When she reached for the chalk, her blouse tugged gently across her back, and Arjun’s stomach tightened.
Nothing new was happening.
But he had changed, and now everything felt different.
---
After Class – The Glance
As the class ended, Arjun stayed in his seat longer than usual.
Meera collected her notes, flipped through a file, turned to head out—and in that moment, her eyes passed over him.
Just briefly.
And Arjun froze.
There was no suspicion in her look. No awareness.
But he looked away too quickly.
Too guilty.
She paused for half a second, like something had registered—but said nothing.
Then she walked out.
Her pleats swayed. Her blouse, simple as it was, curved gently with her steps. And Arjun, still seated, still pulsing with last night’s memory, felt like he was watching something he was no longer innocent about.
He had touched her—in thought. In breath. In private.
And now, every real glance felt like crossing a line all over again.
---
Later That Night – Arjun’s Room
The fan spun lazily above him.
His books were open, untouched. His phone lay face down beside his pillow. And Arjun lay on his back, still in his college shirt, eyes fixed on the ceiling—barely blinking, barely breathing.
It was all back again.
That moment.
The auditorium.
Meera, leaning forward in her lavender saree. The soft curve of her waist, bare just above the pleats. Her pallu drawn to one side as she adjusted a chart.
Then Priya—walking up behind her, smiling.
The words lost to memory, but the action—etched.
That pinch.
Right where he always looked.
The place he had imagined so many times suddenly touched, real, alive. And Meera’s response—a laugh, light, unbothered. She hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t minded. That comfort, that confidence, it haunted him more than any glance or glimpse.
He felt it again now—like heat rolling under his skin, down his chest, curling low in his stomach.
He hadn’t even meant to replay it again.
But he had.
And this time, it built faster.
He saw her in his mind as she had moved that day—the pleats tight, the blouse smooth against her back, her waist bare in flashes. That pinch again, over and over. Her breath. The sway of her hips as she walked away.
And then—release.
Quiet. Sudden. Overwhelming.
It didn’t crash like a wave.
It crept up and broke through, shuddering out of him in a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
His hand clenched the bedsheet beside him.
His chest rose. Fell.
Stillness returned slowly, but his heart kept pulsing.
The moment was gone.
But she wasn’t.
She never was.
---
To be continued…
The morning after felt different.
Arjun stepped into college like something inside him had shifted. The sky was overcast, the breeze cool, but his body felt flushed—like it was carrying heat no one else could see.
Because he remembered.
All of it.
That moment in his room, in the dark, when the image of Meera—her waist, the tight pleats of her saree, the way Priya’s fingers touched exactly where his eyes had burned—had taken him over.
His first.
Not imagined anymore. Felt.
And now, sitting in the middle of his classmates, pretending to be normal, pretending to be just another boy in uniform, he felt like he was hiding a flame under his skin.
---
Third Period – Math Class
Meera walked in right on time.
Her saree was a soft olive green, pleated perfectly, paired with a simple half-sleeved blouse—nothing flashy, nothing dramatic. Her hair was tied back in a single neat braid, no loose strands, no extra effort.
She looked composed. Collected. Like always.
And yet—Arjun’s eyes couldn’t stay still.
Every fold of her saree felt alive to him now. Every move she made brought back what he had imagined the night before. The curve of her waist, the soft line of her side when the fabric pulled, the spot just above her pleats where his thoughts always returned.
When she reached for the chalk, her blouse tugged gently across her back, and Arjun’s stomach tightened.
Nothing new was happening.
But he had changed, and now everything felt different.
---
After Class – The Glance
As the class ended, Arjun stayed in his seat longer than usual.
Meera collected her notes, flipped through a file, turned to head out—and in that moment, her eyes passed over him.
Just briefly.
And Arjun froze.
There was no suspicion in her look. No awareness.
But he looked away too quickly.
Too guilty.
She paused for half a second, like something had registered—but said nothing.
Then she walked out.
Her pleats swayed. Her blouse, simple as it was, curved gently with her steps. And Arjun, still seated, still pulsing with last night’s memory, felt like he was watching something he was no longer innocent about.
He had touched her—in thought. In breath. In private.
And now, every real glance felt like crossing a line all over again.
---
Later That Night – Arjun’s Room
The fan spun lazily above him.
His books were open, untouched. His phone lay face down beside his pillow. And Arjun lay on his back, still in his college shirt, eyes fixed on the ceiling—barely blinking, barely breathing.
It was all back again.
That moment.
The auditorium.
Meera, leaning forward in her lavender saree. The soft curve of her waist, bare just above the pleats. Her pallu drawn to one side as she adjusted a chart.
Then Priya—walking up behind her, smiling.
The words lost to memory, but the action—etched.
That pinch.
Right where he always looked.
The place he had imagined so many times suddenly touched, real, alive. And Meera’s response—a laugh, light, unbothered. She hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t minded. That comfort, that confidence, it haunted him more than any glance or glimpse.
He felt it again now—like heat rolling under his skin, down his chest, curling low in his stomach.
He hadn’t even meant to replay it again.
But he had.
And this time, it built faster.
He saw her in his mind as she had moved that day—the pleats tight, the blouse smooth against her back, her waist bare in flashes. That pinch again, over and over. Her breath. The sway of her hips as she walked away.
And then—release.
Quiet. Sudden. Overwhelming.
It didn’t crash like a wave.
It crept up and broke through, shuddering out of him in a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
His hand clenched the bedsheet beside him.
His chest rose. Fell.
Stillness returned slowly, but his heart kept pulsing.
The moment was gone.
But she wasn’t.
She never was.
---
To be continued…
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