Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

The alarm rang at 4.

Soft vibration first, then the ringtone. I opened my eyes, slowly. Didn’t get up. Just stared at the ceiling fan above.

I didn’t feel like moving.

The light from the window had that evening glow. Soft, orange, like it had been filtering through dust all day.

My hand reached under the pillow. I turned the alarm off.

I could hear the usual sounds outside. A child crying somewhere. A scooter passing. Some metal gate closing loudly in the next block.

Then came the other sound.

Not from outside.

From inside my head.

That memory.

The lift.

That tight, sweaty darkness.

That thick air filled with my own breath and his.

Prakash.

That moment I’ll never be able to forget, even if I want to.

His body pressed near me. That rough voice. That long silence.

And most of all… his cock.

I closed my eyes tighter.

Why now?

Why again?

I could feel the skin of my cheek warm up just from the thought.

I turned my head to the side and cursed under my breath.

“Why am I like this…”

I sat up slowly.

Tied my hair up in a small bun and stood near the mirror. I didn’t even look at my reflection. Just wiped the corner of my mouth and walked out to the hall.

Two minutes later, I heard the van.

The usual van horn. Kids were back.

Same time every day.

The door opened fast. Bags thrown inside. Water bottles rolled across the floor.

“Ammaaaaaaaa!”

The younger one came running, already pulling his socks out.

The older one just said, “I’m tired,” and dropped his bag near the shoe rack.

“Wash your hands first,” I said.

“No Amma. First juice,” he begged.

“Go. Wash. Then come.”

They grumbled, but went.

That was Tuesday.

Wednesday was the same.

Alarm. Wake up. Kids came back. Exams still going. One was scared of maths. The other didn’t care. I gave them snacks. Boost. Rava dosa. Later some mixture. Wiped the floor three times that day.

Thursday, I had headache. But still followed routine.

By now, I could do it with my eyes closed.

Three full days passed like that.

Same alarm. Same kids shouting. Same towels flung over the sofa. Same socks on the floor.

But inside my mind… things were not the same.

Small things kept coming back.

Like when I folded clothes, I remembered Raj anna’s hand brushing mine near the steel tray.

That pause. That grip. Not long, but enough for my skin to remember.

Or when I bent down to pick a toy, I remembered Arjun standing at the doorway, eyes holding just a second too long.

Or when I opened the cupboard, I saw a towel—and suddenly, that flash of Prakash’s cock jumped into my mind again.

I shut the cupboard and scolded myself.

“Why are these things still coming up?”

But no answer.

Because I didn’t want to admit that I liked the feeling.

Not what happened. But how I felt after.

That heat.

That guilt.

That rush.

And now… Friday.

Morning was quiet.

Kids had college. I woke up early. Gave them pongal. Packed lunch.

Appa called around 12.

“I’ll come fo lunch,” he said.

He wanted to take the boys to hometown. For holidays. If they start around 4:30, They’ll reach by dinner.

Appa came around 2:20.

I opened the door. Gave him water. He drank and smiled.

He was tired, because of climbing stairs. Lift is not working. So he takes a rest.

I packed kids bags. Kept everything ready.

Even packed their favourite snacks in a tiffin box. One had mixture. Other had banana chips.

I checked their undergarments. One towel each. Extra toothbrush. Odomos.

Everything was packed and zipped.

At 4 PM sharp, kids came.

Same energy.

Same mess.

Same shouting.

But this time, they were excited.

“Amma! Is thatha came?”

“Did you pack my Avengers t-shirt?”

“I want to take Beyblade!”

I told them to calm down.

Gave them warm milk. They drank fast.

Appa also ready, came out prepared to leave.

“All ready?” he asked.

“Everything’s inside.”

Kids jumped and hugged him.

I handed over the bags.

“Is driver around?” I asked.

“Yes, he is waiting at parking. We’ll reach home by 9.”

“Eat at the on the way. Don’t wait till village.”

He nodded.

Kids wore slippers and ran to the lift.

“Bye Ammaaaaaaa!”

“Be good!” I shouted.

And then the door closed.

They were going on stairs again.

And the house became…

Silent.

Totally silent.

I locked the door.

Turned around.

Walked slowly to the hall.

One sock was still on the floor.

I bent down and picked it.

Wiped the dining table. Biscuit crumbs.

The steel tumbler was on the floor mat. I picked that too.

Then just stood in the middle of the house.

Fan spinning slowly.

No sound.

Even the fridge hum felt louder now.

I looked around.

Nobody.

Nothing.

Just me.

It was 4:45 PM.

I sat on the bed for five minutes.

Then stood up.

Today was Friday.

And I had already decided—I’ll take proper bath and go to temple.

It’s been a while.

I went to the cupboard.

Took out my temple saree.

Soft blue cotton with small border.

I kept it on the hanger for after bath.

My maroon saree was already sticking. I had worn it since morning.

Sweat near the back. Petticoat string too tight.

I entered the main room bathroom.

Turned on the water.

Let it run.

Came out. Closed the bedroom door.

Untied the saree.

It slid off easily.

I folded it roughly and kept it on the chair.

Now I was in blouse and petticoat only.

No bra.

Removed it after lunch. Blouse was front open. Simple hooks. Slightly damp under the chest.

The petticoat knot had loosened slightly near the side.

Just a small gap.

Enough to show a thin strip of green panty if I moved.

I looked in the mirror.

Yes—it was visible.

One small triangle of fabric peeking from the knot.

I thought of fixing it.

Then left it.

Who’s going to see?

Nobody.

I ran my hand across my waist once.

My skin was warm.

The blouse was hugging more than usual.

I took the towel and wiped my neck.

Fan was blowing across my back.

The bathroom light was still on.

I stepped in again.

Bucket almost half.

Still not full.

I came out again.

Walked to the shelf for my shampoo sachet.

And then—

ding-dong.

One bell.

Just one.

Sharp.

Loud.

And then…

Silence.

I stood still.

Not a step forward.

Still inside the bedroom.

Only blouse and petticoat.

Towel in hand.

Panty edge still showing near the knot.

I didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Just… waited.









I didn’t move for a few seconds after that first bell.

My ears were sharp now.

No voice.

No footsteps.

Just one bell, and then nothing.

I felt it coming.

That same irritation.

Every time I’m in the middle of something private, someone has to disturb.

Why this timing?

I stood still, my fingers holding the edge of the towel.

Maybe it’s the watchman.

That Prakash.

Always standing around, watching silently like he’s measuring something.

Or maybe Raj anna.

He also has that habit of appearing quietly. Friendly face, but always somehow showing up at the wrong time.

I didn’t like either option.

Then—

Ding-dong.

Second ring.

Longer.

And now I was sure.

“Must be that Prakash fellow,” I muttered.

“He needs one tight slap. Idiot.”

My eyes rolled automatically.

I pulled the towel from my shoulder and placed it across my blouse. Not full coverage—just enough to hide the top line.

Still, my chest shape was clear.

The blouse was front-hook, and it had already darkened under the bust line with dampness.

My petticoat knot had shifted. Slight triangle gap near my left hip.

That green panty inside was faintly showing if someone stood in front.

I was aware.

I knew.

But I didn’t fix it.

I was already annoyed.

Walked straight to the door.

No questions.

No “who is it?”

I just unlocked the bolt, slid the door open slightly, and showed only my face.

And then—

My eyes met his.

Arjun.

He stood calmly.

Wearing a light blue shirt, sleeves rolled halfway.

Office bag on one shoulder.

Face looked slightly tired, but his smile came the moment he saw me.

“Hi anni,” he said, like always.

Soft voice. Like every evening.

I didn’t return the smile.

Just opened the door fully and stepped slightly aside.

As he entered…

His head turned slightly downward.

Not fast.

Not clearly staring.

But I felt it.

That one look.

From my eyes to my shoulder.

Then my chest.

Then the petticoat.

And that hip.

That small knot gap.

His eyes moved there for just one second.

Maybe even less.

But I caught it.

And in that second, he might’ve seen the green line.

The panty.

I didn’t cover.

Didn’t move.

Just stood there with towel loosely placed, body facing inside.

He stepped in slowly.

Quiet.

His right hand reached back and clicked the door lock.

I didn’t turn.

Just said, “I’ll finish bath and come.”

He didn’t reply.

Didn’t ask anything.

Didn’t look directly.

But that one second...

That was enough.

I turned away and walked fast toward the bathroom.

My back was fully visible to him.

Blouse had small wet patches under the shoulder blades.

Towel had slipped slightly toward the side.

Petticoat sat low on my hips, hugging tight.

I didn’t fix it.

Just opened the bathroom door, entered, and closed it behind me.

Clicked the latch.

I stood there for a moment.

Didn’t touch anything.

Just stood facing the sink.

My heart was beating a little faster than normal.

I reached and turned off the pipe.

Water had filled.

Bucket almost full.

I placed the towel on the hanger and leaned forward.

Palms on the edge of the sink.

Blouse stuck to my chest. Both nipples were pressing softly against the fabric.

My skin was warm.

My hip was sweating slightly under the petticoat.

I stared at the tile wall.

Didn’t speak.

Just thought—

“He saw.”

I’m sure he saw.

And I…

I let him.

Not directly. Not openly.

But I didn’t cover.

Didn’t adjust anything.

And his eyes… they didn’t lie.

Even if his mouth was silent.

I wasn’t angry.

I wasn’t scared.

But I was—

Aware.

That’s all.

Too aware.

I closed my eyes.

Pressed my forehead gently against the cool tile.

Breathed in.

And whispered softly, just to myself—

“Why always like this…”







I let the water run down my body one last time.

Neck to thigh.

Cool. Heavy. Clean.

The oil and sweat were all gone.

I felt fresh.

Calm.

Eyes closed, I tilted my head back slightly under the bucket pour. Let it soak the last part of my hair.

Then reached out to the hook.

My hand stopped.

The hook was empty.

No towel.

I blinked.

Once. Twice.

Then suddenly remembered—

“I left it on the bed.”

My heart skipped.

My chest was dripping. Drops slid down from my breasts to my stomach. My thighs were soaked.

The small pink face towel I used earlier was hanging, but that couldn’t even cover half my chest.

My mind started racing.

I can’t wear the same old dress now. It’s sweaty. Dusty. Still lying in the corner.

And Arjun is outside.

Sitting in the hall. Or maybe in the kitchen now.

My blouse and petticoat are on the chair in the bedroom.

And the towel is on the bed.

Just few steps away. But wide open space in between.

“What should I do now?” I whispered to myself.

I stared at the door.

Thought of wrapping the small towel around my chest.

Tried.

It barely held.

One movement and it would fall.

My fingers played with the edge of the bathroom latch.

No other option.

I had to ask him.

Ask Arjun.

“God…”

I closed my eyes and took a breath.

Then called softly, “Arjun…”

My voice was low.

Maybe he didn’t hear.

I waited five seconds.

No reply.

I called again.

Slightly louder.

Still nothing.

My hand went to the latch.

Fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, just from how awkward this was.

I unlocked it.

Opened the door just one inch.

Peeped out.

Didn’t see anyone.

I moved a bit more.

My entire head was outside now.

And my left shoulder too.

Bare.

Wet.

Nude.

The water was still dripping from my collarbone.

I whispered again, “Arjun…”

This time he heard.

I saw him stand up from the chair.

He turned and saw me.

He didn’t react suddenly.

Just walked toward me.

His eyes stayed on my face. Then moved slightly lower.

He could only see my shoulder.

But he must have understood.

I was completely nude inside.

No towel. Nothing.

I didn’t look into his eyes directly.

Just kept my chin down and said, “Can you bring my towel… It’s on the bed.”

He didn’t speak.

Just turned.

Went to the bedroom.

I pulled the door back gently.

Closed it fully.

My hand was still damp from the knob.

I waited.

He didn’t take long.

Maybe ten seconds.

“Anni…” he called softly from outside.

I opened the door just enough to put my hand out.

He placed the towel in my palm.

Soft. Big. Still warm from the room.

I pulled it in immediately.

“Thank you,” I said. Barely audible.

Click.

I locked the door again.

My breathing was uneven now.

I opened the towel.

Dbangd it fully around my body.

Pressed it gently over my chest.

My nipples were stiff. Skin still wet.

I wiped my face.

My neck.

My arms.

Then down to my thighs.

But my mind?

Still standing at that half-open door.

Still hearing his footsteps walking toward me.

Still seeing the way his eyes didn’t look away in fear…

Or shame.

Only silence.

That silence said everything.





I stood there near the mirror, towel in hand.

Body almost dry now.

I had wiped my arms, shoulders, stomach, thighs. Even ran the cloth under my breasts once to soak the water stuck beneath.

The big towel was still wrapped around me.

I reached for the smaller one and wrapped it around my head. Quick twist and knot. Hair secured.

Then I paused.

Looked at myself.

I can’t step out like this.

Just one towel around the body?

That too barely holding?

It had slipped once already while I wiped.

If I even bend slightly, it’ll show everything.

I looked down.

The towel just touched the upper part of my thighs.

Just above the line where my petticoat normally rests.

If I walked fast, it might shift.

If I sat, it would rise.

And if I bent forward—

My pussy would be clearly visible.

No doubt.

No cloth inside.

Just bare.

Skin to air.

I stepped back from the mirror and whispered, “Why are you testing me like this…”

I bit my lip.

Stood still.

Thought hard.

Should I call Arjun again?

Ask him to bring my blouse, petticoat, and saree from the chair?

No.

Impossible.

That blouse is loose. Petticoat twisted. Saree folded in half.

And worse—my bra and panty are also there, mixed with the set.

I can’t let him carry all that.

Even if I ask nicely, even if he doesn’t react…

It’s not right.

He’s Kartik’s younger brother.

And I’m not shameless.

No choice.

Have to go like this.

Just towel.

I pulled it tighter around my chest.

It barely held.

Top edge pressed just above my nipples.

Any shift, they’ll show.

My cleavage was already visible from the center.

I looked down at my thighs.

Smooth. Shaved two days back.

Skin shining slightly from the bath.

I placed one palm on my stomach.

Took a deep breath.

Stood near the door.

Listened.

Fan sound.

No footsteps.

He must be outside.

Waiting.

I turned the latch.

Opened the door slowly.

And saw him.

Arjun.

Sitting on the dining chair.

Not scrolling phone.

Not reading paper.

Just… looking.

Looking directly at the bathroom door.

Like he was waiting.

Or maybe just curious.

Or maybe…

Waiting for me to show this drama?

My inner voice spoke without filter.

“Is he expecting a show?”

I smiled softly.

Not because I was happy.

But because I was stuck.

And he was watching.

I stepped out.

Slowly.

One foot, then the other.

My left hand held the towel near my chest.

Right hand held the edge near my thigh.

I walked past the kitchen counter.

Then past the dining table.

His eyes were on me.

I felt it.

From my legs—

Clean, smooth, still damp—

To my hips—

Wrapped tight but curve still visible—

To my chest—

Where the towel pressed against my breasts.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t look down in shame.

Didn’t turn away.

He just watched.

Calm face.

Steady gaze.

And that scared me more than if he had stared with hunger.

Since when did he become this confident?

Where did that shy boy go?

I didn’t stop.

Just walked fast.

But not too fast.

My thigh muscles moved naturally with each step.

The towel moved slightly with each breath.

I didn’t look at him.

But I knew.

He saw everything.

And I…

Let him.

I reached the bedroom door.

Opened it.

Stepped in.

And closed it softly behind me.

The lock clicked.

And I leaned back against the door for a second.

Breathing normal.

But skin…

Burning.



I leaned back on the door for a second.

Closed my eyes.

Took a breath.

Then cursed myself softly.

“Why like this, always?”

Opened the cupboard. Pulled out the clothes from the top shelf one by one.

Bra first.

Strapped it on quickly. Tightened the hooks. Adjusted once. Felt better.

Then panty.

Simple cotton. Light green. Same as before.

I ran the towel once down my legs. Skin still damp, but clean.

Blouse next.

Pink front-hook. Slightly loose. I tucked the inner edge properly under the bra.

Then petticoat.

Tied it tightly this time. Double knot.

No chance for gaps.

Finally, the saree.

Blue cotton with thin silver border. Simple. Clean. Perfect for Friday temple.

I wrapped it around slowly. Pleated it neatly.

Pallu over the left shoulder. Adjusted it once so that the border sat flat on my chest.

Hair still wet.

Didn’t bother drying it fully.

Let it fall loose down my back.

Picked up the small dabba of talcum powder. Dusted a little on neck and collarbone.

Then looked at myself in the mirror.

Took the bindi from the shelf.

Placed it between my brows.

Stepped back.

Looked again.

Yes.

Perfect.

Simple. But sharp.

Soft. But graceful.

Even I paused at the reflection for a moment.

“Gorgeous,” I thought, without guilt.

Just then—

Raj anna’s voice came to mind.

That day when he said, “You don’t need lipstick, you know? You look complete as you are.”

I don’t know why I thought of that now.

Shook my head.

“Forget him.”

I picked up the towel from the bed and opened the door.

There he was.

Arjun.

Still sitting at the dining chair.

But this time… his eyes were fixed on the bedroom door.

Exactly where I stepped out.

I raised my eyebrow.

“Sir… no plans to refresh or what?” I said mockingly, soft teasing in my voice.

He blinked.

Looked slightly shocked.

Maybe mesmerized.

His eyes took one second too long to reach mine.

I saw it.

That delay.

His gaze had already moved over my waist, the curve under the pallu, the freshly washed hair sticking to my collar.

He snapped out of it.

“Sorry anni!” he said suddenly, standing up.

I smirked.

“Don’t forget to take towel,” I added casually as he stepped forward.

He paused.

Smiled sheepishly.

“I won’t,” he said.

I laughed.

Short, soft, but genuine.

He walked fast toward the bathroom, holding his clothes.

I turned and went to the kitchen.

Took out the vessel.

Poured milk into the small pan.

Lit the stove.

Slow flame.

Evening tea.

The smell of fresh boiled milk always calmed me.

I added ginger and crushed elaichi.

Waited till the bubbles formed at the edges.

He came out ten minutes later.

Wearing a white t-shirt and black trousers.

Casual.

Neat.

But that boyish look was there.

Hair towel-dried. Face slightly flushed from the bath.

Like a college student after sports hour.

I handed him the cup.

“Tea,” I said.

He nodded. “Thanks anni.”

I poured one for myself too.

Leaning against the counter, sipping quietly.

The two of us stood in the kitchen.

Not speaking much.

Just tea.

Fan sound. Light clinks of the spoon inside the cup.

Time on the wall clock said 5:50.

I looked once toward the puja shelf.

Then at my bag near the shoe rack.

Temple.

I had to go.

Inside my head, that quiet thought formed—

“Time to go now.”