23-04-2025, 02:30 AM
(This post was last modified: 23-04-2025, 02:30 AM by shamson9571. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Episode 24: Said Out Loud
The late afternoon sun had softened behind grey clouds, casting a low golden light into the staff room. Most of the teachers had gone. A few echoes from the corridor faded in and out—chairs scbanging, last bell chatter, the day closing in.
Meera sat at her desk, blouse clinging slightly at her waist from the long hours. Her teal saree had started to lose its crispness, pleats a little looser now, like the day had settled into the fabric.
Across from her, Priya sipped from a warm paper cup, idly scrolling through her phone.
Meera closed her notebook and looked up.
“Can I ask you something weird?”
Priya didn’t look up. “That’s the only kind worth asking.”
Meera hesitated. “Do you ever… feel it? When someone’s staring? Not casually. Like—really looking?”
Priya glanced up now, phone forgotten. “Oh. We’re going there.”
Meera rolled her eyes. “It happened today. In class.”
Priya smirked. “Was it the teal saree?”
Meera gave her a look. “Don’t start.”
“I’m serious,” Priya said, leaning in. “That blouse fits you like it was stitched by someone with no intention of leaving anything to the imagination. And don’t even get me started on your waist.”
Meera laughed, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying,” Priya grinned. “You walk around like you’re teaching math, but you’re out here doing anatomical damage. The curve of your waist alone could knock a teenager off the honor roll.”
Meera covered her face with her hand, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”
“Admit it,” Priya said, tapping the desk. “You saw him today.”
Meera nodded slowly. “He wasn’t subtle. And when I adjusted my pallu... I don’t know. I felt it. That moment.”
Priya’s voice softened. “You didn’t hate it, did you?”
Meera paused. “No. I didn’t.”
Priya’s smile lost its teasing edge. “Good. You shouldn't. It’s not about him—it’s about you. That you still turn heads without trying.”
There was a brief silence.
Then Meera added, quieter now, “It felt strange… being reminded. That I still hold that kind of effect.”
Priya looked at her, more serious now. “You think I don’t notice, either?”
Meera raised an eyebrow.
Priya leaned back. “You’ve got a body that was made for sarees. Soft in the right places, tight in the right ones. That waistline? Perfect. It’s not just him. You walk into a room, and it changes.”
Meera blinked, caught between surprise and something warmer.
“Priya...”
“I’m just saying what’s true,” Priya said, letting her hand drift toward Meera’s pallu—just a brush, a soft touch that didn’t linger. “You don’t need to try. And that’s the most dangerous part.”
Meera sat quietly with that. Not pushing it away. Not denying it.
Just letting it land.
And somewhere, deep beneath the day’s exhaustion, she felt the slightest flutter of something new. Not guilt. Not confusion.
Just awareness.
---
To be continued…
The late afternoon sun had softened behind grey clouds, casting a low golden light into the staff room. Most of the teachers had gone. A few echoes from the corridor faded in and out—chairs scbanging, last bell chatter, the day closing in.
Meera sat at her desk, blouse clinging slightly at her waist from the long hours. Her teal saree had started to lose its crispness, pleats a little looser now, like the day had settled into the fabric.
Across from her, Priya sipped from a warm paper cup, idly scrolling through her phone.
Meera closed her notebook and looked up.
“Can I ask you something weird?”
Priya didn’t look up. “That’s the only kind worth asking.”
Meera hesitated. “Do you ever… feel it? When someone’s staring? Not casually. Like—really looking?”
Priya glanced up now, phone forgotten. “Oh. We’re going there.”
Meera rolled her eyes. “It happened today. In class.”
Priya smirked. “Was it the teal saree?”
Meera gave her a look. “Don’t start.”
“I’m serious,” Priya said, leaning in. “That blouse fits you like it was stitched by someone with no intention of leaving anything to the imagination. And don’t even get me started on your waist.”
Meera laughed, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying,” Priya grinned. “You walk around like you’re teaching math, but you’re out here doing anatomical damage. The curve of your waist alone could knock a teenager off the honor roll.”
Meera covered her face with her hand, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”
“Admit it,” Priya said, tapping the desk. “You saw him today.”
Meera nodded slowly. “He wasn’t subtle. And when I adjusted my pallu... I don’t know. I felt it. That moment.”
Priya’s voice softened. “You didn’t hate it, did you?”
Meera paused. “No. I didn’t.”
Priya’s smile lost its teasing edge. “Good. You shouldn't. It’s not about him—it’s about you. That you still turn heads without trying.”
There was a brief silence.
Then Meera added, quieter now, “It felt strange… being reminded. That I still hold that kind of effect.”
Priya looked at her, more serious now. “You think I don’t notice, either?”
Meera raised an eyebrow.
Priya leaned back. “You’ve got a body that was made for sarees. Soft in the right places, tight in the right ones. That waistline? Perfect. It’s not just him. You walk into a room, and it changes.”
Meera blinked, caught between surprise and something warmer.
“Priya...”
“I’m just saying what’s true,” Priya said, letting her hand drift toward Meera’s pallu—just a brush, a soft touch that didn’t linger. “You don’t need to try. And that’s the most dangerous part.”
Meera sat quietly with that. Not pushing it away. Not denying it.
Just letting it land.
And somewhere, deep beneath the day’s exhaustion, she felt the slightest flutter of something new. Not guilt. Not confusion.
Just awareness.
---
To be continued…
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)