Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

Sunday evening, around 5:45 PM

I was sitting on the sofa, watching the TV screen — but nothing was going inside my head.

Some random action movie was playing. Big noise, guns, shouting. Arjun was watching it like something important was happening.

But I was just... bored.

My saree pallu had slipped halfway off my chest. I didn’t bother fixing it. The blouse underneath was holding, and anyway, it wasn’t like he was looking.

My back was sticking to the sofa. It was warm against the cotton.

My legs were folded up, one foot tapping the floor slowly.

The fan was running. Speed 2. No coolness, just air.

I glanced at him again.

He hadn’t moved.

One leg on the table. One hand behind his head. The remote near his thigh. His chest rising gently with his breathing. T-shirt stretched lightly across the middle.

He looked too calm.

Like he forgot I was here.

Like this was his space.

That thought sat strangely in my chest. Not angry. Just… aware.

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I wanted to do something.

Not housework. Not scrolling. Not sitting like this.

Something that would stir the air a bit.

I called him.

“Arjun…”

He turned just slightly, not fully. “Yes, anni?”

“This is really boring da. That movie is not even interesting.”

He smiled a little, without turning fully. “Then what to do, anni?”

I rubbed my palm once on my thigh, then said — soft and slow —

“We used to play cards in hostel during holidays. I remembered it suddenly.”

He turned his head now, eyebrow raised. “Cards-aa? That’s for old people or kids, anni. It’ll be boring also.”

I smiled. “Not if we change the rules.”

He paused the movie.

The sound stopped suddenly. Room went quiet.

He looked at me properly now. “What rules?”

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I sat up slowly. My pallu had slid down even more. I caught it with my fingers and placed it across my chest again. Didn’t pin it. Just let it rest.

My eyes were calm. But inside, something was slowly starting to move.

“Like... instead of normal win-lose, we can bet something. Maybe small money,” I said.

He smirked. “You’ll take my whole salary like that, anni.”

I grinned. “Then suggest something better. Something not boring.”

He leaned back, resting his arm again.

Voice slower now. Not serious. But something different inside it.

“What if… winner can ask loser to do one thing?”

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I tilted my head. “One thing?”

He shrugged. “Anything. Could be silly. Could be serious. Whatever the winner wants.”

I looked at him for one second.

His face looked casual. But his tone was not.

And suddenly… that same warm feeling came low in my stomach. That quiet stretch… like something was pulling slightly from inside.

But I smiled like normal.

“I like that rule,” I said.

He nodded once.

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“Okay then,” I said, standing up.

The cotton had pressed deep into my thigh from sitting so long. I brushed it flat.

My saree pleats had shifted, so I adjusted them at my hip.

My pallu had slipped again — I gathered it slowly and let it cover better across the front.

My blouse felt warm on my skin. I didn’t change it. Didn’t want to.

Even the warmth felt nice.

I walked towards the bedroom.

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As I passed the mirror, I glanced once.

Not long. Just a small look.

But it was enough.

The maroon saree was clinging gently to my sides. Not too tight. But enough.

The blouse held firm across the back — the U-cut showing more than it should, but not openly.

A few hair strands had come loose near my cheek. I didn’t tuck them.

I looked at myself without expression.

Just noticed how I looked.

Then walked on.

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The hallway was quiet.

I stepped into the bedroom. Sunlight was still coming in through the side. The bedsheet was neat. Pillow slightly pressed in the middle where I had rested earlier.

I walked to the cupboard.

Opened the top drawer — only bills and safety pins.

Second drawer — there it was.

That old card box. Plastic cracked on one edge. Rubber band faded. Still holding.

I picked it up.

The box felt cool in my hand.

And I didn’t move immediately.

I stood there.

Holding it.

My thumb ran once across the edge of the box.

And somewhere inside…

I was already thinking what I’ll make him do when I win.

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I stood there for one more second, holding the card box in my hand.

My thumb was pressing against the lid softly.

I didn’t open it. I just held it.

Then I turned and walked out of the bedroom.

The hallway felt cooler now. Maybe because the kitchen burner was off. Maybe because my body had gone a little lighter.

I crossed the mirror again, but this time I didn’t look.

The TV was still paused. The room was half-lit from the outside light. Evening had settled properly now. A golden kind of light was falling on the centre table.

Arjun was still on the sofa, scrolling something on his phone.

I didn’t say anything.

I sat down on the floor mat. Pulled my pleats aside neatly so I could sit cross-legged.

"Come down," I said softly, placing the cards beside me.

He looked up, smiled, and got off the sofa.

His t-shirt crumpled slightly as he bent his knees. He sat opposite me, folding his legs lazily, like he was still stretching from sitting too long.

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I opened the box and removed the rubber band slowly. The cards had that faint powdery smell. I tapped them into one stack. Started shuffling.

I didn’t show off. But I shuffled well. Fast. Smooth.

One, two, three, four bridges. Then a neat cut.

He raised one eyebrow.

“You’ve played properly before, anni?”

I smiled. “Hostel time. We used to play full day sometimes.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay okay…”

His eyes looked like he was already planning something.

We started the game.

Rummy.

Each round was slow. Careful. Ten minutes minimum to get a winner.

He was watching the discard pile like an exam question.

But he won the first one.

He gave a proud smile and rubbed his palm once.

“Ready, anni?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tell.”

He thought for one second. “You have to sing one song.”

I blinked. “What song?”

He smiled wider now. “Recent Tamil movie. That Dhanush one… Aathi Aathi.”

I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, rules are rules, anni,” he said, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t even remember the lyrics.”

“Even humming is okay,” he said. “But you have to try.”

I shook my head once and looked away. Then looked back.

He was waiting.

I didn’t know where to look. But I remembered the tune. Half lyrics. Mostly the chorus.

I took a small breath.

And started singing.

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Low volume. Head slightly turned away.

But I sang.

My voice was a little shaky at first, then settled into the tune.

The words were coming — not perfect, but enough.

My throat felt dry halfway, but I didn’t stop.

He didn’t laugh.

He was just watching.

Slight smile on his face. Eyes steady. Arms resting on his knees.

When I finished, I didn’t say anything. I just looked down and picked up the cards.

He clapped softly. “Very good anni.”

“Shut up,” I said, without anger.

“Your voice is good,” he said, still smiling.

“Your dare will come now,” I said.

He nodded, still relaxed.

We shuffled again.

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Second round.

This time I was faster. More focused.

He tried to bluff with a discard, but I caught it. Picked up the right card. Closed the game.

He looked at my spread and sighed. “Okay okay…”

I cracked my fingers once.

“Now you get punishment.”

“Tell.”

“Twenty pushups. Non-stop.”

He looked at me like I slapped him. “Pushups-aa? Here?”

“Here only. Centre mat.”

He laughed once, loud. “You planned this revenge?”

“Go,” I said, pointing to the mat.

He sighed dramatically and dropped to the floor.

Then got into position.

His t-shirt rose slightly as he bent down. His arms straightened, palms flat on the mat.

He started.

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One...

Two…

Three…

His shoulders moved slow. Controlled.

The muscle near his biceps was flexing each time.

The back of his t-shirt was riding up more now. Exposing part of his lower back.

His face was calm till seven. After that, slight struggle started.

Eight… nine… ten…

I didn’t say anything. I was just watching.

His breathing changed around fifteen.

He paused a bit, then continued.

Seventeen… eighteen… nineteen…

Last one, he gritted his teeth slightly. Finished.

Then dropped down on the mat, chest flat, arms stretched out.

I didn’t laugh.

I was just… aware.

Of how warm the room had become.

Of how his back was rising and falling.

Of how my own chest was moving a little faster.

He turned his face towards me from the floor.

“Happy?”

I smiled.

“Next round?”

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We reshuffled the cards.

This time, I went a bit slower, just to see what he was doing with his eyes.

He didn’t look away.

The fan was still going. The room had settled into that quiet comfort. No other sound. Just our own voices, our breathing, the small plastic clack of cards being moved.

We started the next round.

He won.

Again.

He didn’t smile this time. Just looked at me for a second.

Then said casually, “Anni… do catwalk once. In your saree.”

I blinked.

“What da? No. Go away,” I said, brushing his nonsense off.

He was already grinning. “Eh, come on. It’s my turn.”

“You’re taking revenge,” I said, half laughing.

“You only said winner gets to ask anything.”

I looked at him. He wasn’t letting it go.

I stood up slowly. Not smiling much. Just getting it over with.

“Only one round. I’m not doing fashion show.”

He nodded, sitting there like a judge.

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I walked to the far end of the room.

Turned.

And started walking back.

One step. Then another.

The cotton pleats brushed against my legs as I moved. My hips swayed without trying. The pallu shifted lightly with every step. The blouse tightened against my back.

I didn’t overdo it.

But I didn’t hide either.

Midway, the saree slipped just enough to show part of my navel. The way it usually happens when I’m bending or reaching. I didn’t pull it up. Just kept walking.

His eyes were fixed.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t laugh.

Didn’t say anything.

I reached the end. Turned.

Sat down like nothing happened.

I looked at him.

Still staring.

I snapped my fingers once.

“Hello?”

He blinked. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Keep your tongue inside,” I said.

He laughed. Looked away, scratching his head.

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Next round.

He won again.

Now he was full confidence.

“Okay anni. Now tell something about your college days. Before marriage.”

I looked at him. “What you want to know?”

“Anything. How you were. What you did.”

I leaned back on my palms. Thought for a second.

“Nothing special. I was normal. Little strict. Hostel rules. Morning prayers. Lab work. Group studies. We used to go for masala dosa every Saturday. That was our fun.”

He was listening quietly. Nodding along.

“You had any crush?” he asked.

I gave one sharp look.

“Don’t stretch your luck.”

He held his hands up. “Okay okay. Normal only.”

I shuffled the cards.

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This round, I won.

I smiled while picking my cards up.

“Your turn now,” I said. “Tell about your girlfriends.”

He gave one small wince-smile. “There was one girl.”

“Oh ho,” I said.

“College time only. She was nice. Studious. Good in writing.”

“Then?”

“She went to UK for further studies. Things just… stopped.”

I raised my eyebrows. “She dumped you?”

He laughed. “She went abroad, anni. Nobody dumped anyone.”

I laughed too.

He rubbed the back of his head, looking a little shy now. “Your revenge done?”

“For now.”

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Next round.

He won. Again.

I gave him a look. “Don’t get used to this winning.”

He didn’t answer.

He just leaned forward a bit, looking straight at me.

And said softly, “Untie your hair.”

I blinked. “No.”

“Rule is rule,” he said. Smiling like a small boy asking for extra dosa.

“I already walked like a model for you.”

“Now just open your hair. That’s all.”

I didn’t answer.

I just looked at him.

His face had gone still. Not serious-serious. But waiting.

I reached behind my head.

Pulled the clip out.

The knot loosened in one soft tug.

My hair fell around my shoulders — warm, a little tangled from being tied all day.

A few strands stuck near my cheek. I didn’t brush them back.

I looked at him.

He had leaned back again.

Eyes on me.

Face calm.

But his mind had gone somewhere else. I could see it.

His stare had changed.

Not open. Not dirty. Just lost. Quiet.

He didn’t even realise he was staring.

And I sat there, feeling my own hair on my neck.

Feeling that quiet weight in the room.

Waiting for the next round.

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I snapped my fingers again.

"Arjun... come back to earth."

He blinked once, then rubbed his chin like he just woke up from a nap.

“Sorry, anni,” he said. “Bit gone off track.”

“Bit-aa?” I gave him a look. “Your soul left the house.”

He grinned and picked up the cards again.

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We started the next game.

Something had changed now. The air felt tighter. Not awkward… but serious.

Like we both wanted to win. For real. No more light laughs.

Each card was watched closely. Every discard checked twice.

I could feel it. He was trying.

But then — small mistake.

He passed me a joker card without noticing.

My eyes widened slightly. I picked it up, quietly.

Built my hand. Closed it.

He stared at the table like he’d missed a step.

“Anni… did I—?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling. “You gave me joker.”

He sighed, dropped his cards, leaned back. “Okay. Hit me.”

I tried to keep a straight face.

“You have to do catwalk. Like aunty style.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You heard.”

He laughed softly. “Anni… really?”

“Yes,” I said. “I did it. Now your turn.”

He stood up slowly, stretching his arms like warming up.

Then started.

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He exaggerated everything.

Hips swinging left and right, one arm flying slightly, legs crossing like a model, stomach pulled in like he was trying too hard.

He turned at the end like those beauty show contestants and placed one hand on his waist.

I burst out laughing.

Couldn’t stop.

I bent forward, face down, laughing into my palm.

He did one more round.

“Enough! Stop! I’ll die,” I said.

He sat back down, smiling. “You asked for it.”

“That was worth it,” I said, still catching my breath.

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We shuffled again.

I could feel my cheeks were warm now. Not from blushing. Just laughing too much.

This round — I won again.

I didn’t show excitement. But I was feeling it.

He looked at me. “What now, anni?”

I pretended to think.

Then looked at him sharply. “Remove your t-shirt.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Gym pose aa?”

“Exactly. Like Arnold style.”

He gave that boyish face again. “My body is not like that, anni.”

“Still. Pose is pose.”

He got up.

Took the hem of his t-shirt. Pulled it off in one go.

Then stood in the centre, fists on his hips, arms slightly bent.

He tightened his stomach. Not abs — but flat. Clean.

His arms had soft lines. Shoulders shaped. Not big muscle, but young and firm.

He did one fake flex.

I smiled. “Okay okay. Decent try.”

He laughed once and bent to wear the t-shirt again.

“No,” I said.

He stopped. “What?”

“You’re not allowed.”

“Anni, that wasn’t in the rule.”

“Still. You removed. That means, now you stay like that.”

He looked at me.

Then nodded slowly. “Okay. If you say so.”

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Next game.

He shuffled quickly this time, like trying to take revenge.

And he won.

I raised my eyebrows. “Let’s see.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“Stand up and twirl, anni.”

I looked at him for one second. “That’s it?”

He nodded. “Easy one.”

I stood up.

Pulled my pleats in once. Adjusted my pallu across my chest. Not tight. Not loose. Just normal.

Then slowly turned.

One soft twirl.

My saree lifted slightly with the spin. Pallu floated across his face.

My hair, untied now, rose in the air and came down gently across my back.

I turned again. Then stopped.

He was still watching.

I sat back down like nothing.

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His hand was still resting on his knee. But he didn’t deal the next round.

He was just… sitting.

And I didn’t say anything either.

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The cards were shuffled again.

The air between us had changed. It wasn’t light anymore.

Still fun, still laughing — but now we were both… sharper.

Watching each other’s hands. Watching the moves.

Each round was taking longer. No distractions. Just cards and silence.

We both wanted to win.

And this time, he won again.

He leaned back slowly and stretched his arms behind him.

His bare chest rose slightly as he did. He wasn’t showing off — but I noticed.

He looked at me.

“Anni…”

I stared at him. “Don’t even think.”

He smiled softly. “Remove your pallu. And keep it on your lap.”

I blinked once. “What da? No no. That’s too much.”

“You told me to remove shirt. I’m sitting like this. You said winners make rules.”

I looked away. “That’s different.”

“Anni, come on. Now you’re cheating,” he said, his voice still soft. “I agreed to every dare. You’re backing out.”

My heart was already beating a little fast. I wasn’t expecting this.

“But… pallu means…” I started, then stopped.

I looked at my chest once. The cotton was wrapped neatly. Hooked properly. Not tight. Not loose.

But still. That was my pallu.

That was my shield.

He didn’t push. Just sat there, shoulders relaxed.

But then he looked down at himself — bare chest, still breathing a little from the earlier rounds — and said:

“I’m sitting topless, anni. You asked me to do it. I did it.”

Then he looked up again. “But now when I ask, you’re saying no.”

That line sat heavy inside me.

Because he was right.

He didn’t shout. Didn’t force.

Just gave that one sentence — quiet, simple, but full of meaning.

I swallowed.

I didn’t smile. I didn’t speak.

I reached behind my shoulder.

Opened the small hook that was holding the pallu tight.

The cotton slipped.

I caught it softly, folded it once, and placed it on my lap.

Now only my blouse was there. Thankfully I had worn a bra that day — not always, but today I had.

Even then, the blouse was shaped. And the neckline was low.

Not deep. But enough.

And now, without the pallu, it was just… exposed.

My cleavage was clearly visible.

Not fully. But more than I’d ever shown in front of him.

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I looked down.

My hands were pressed on the pallu in my lap.

I could feel his eyes flicking towards me. Then back to the cards. Then again.

He wasn’t staring nonstop.

He wasn’t saying anything.

But I could feel it.

One second at a time.

His gaze coming and going like waves.

Not loud. Not greedy.

Just… curious.

And I was sitting there.

Back straight. Eyes on the floor once. Then at him.

Breathing slightly deeper.

Not from running. Just… sitting.

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Next round started.

I had to win this one.

Not just for score. But to balance the moment.

I played carefully. Focused.

My fingers moved with more control now. I wasn’t trying to be fast — just smart.

I built my hand. Used his discard. Closed.

“Won,” I said, placing my cards flat.

He leaned forward to see.

“Ah… nice one, anni.”

I smiled — only with my eyes.

“Your turn now.”

He stretched his arms above his head, then looked at me.

“What now?”

“Fifty squats.”

He blinked. “What?”

“In this condition. Without shirt. Full squats. Count loud.”

He smiled. “Easy, anni. I’ll do hundred if you want.”

“Fifty is enough,” I said.

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He got up from the mat.

His chest was already glistening slightly — from sitting under the fan, from playing.

Not heavy sweat. Just that summer stickiness.

He stood in the middle of the room.

Feet apart. Arms forward.

And started.

“One… two… three…”

His knees bent with perfect rhythm. Not slow. Not fast.

He was doing it like warmup. Like nothing.

But still… every downward bend made his body flex. Every upward motion made his stomach pull in.

His jeans sat low on the waist. The belt buckle pressed just above the bone.

Around twenty, his breathing changed.

Around thirty, I noticed the curve of his shoulders more.

At forty, his thighs were shaking a little. But he was smiling.

“Forty-nine… fifty.”

He stood straight.

Clapped his palms once and looked at me.

“Done, anni.”

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I didn’t clap.

I just looked at him.

His chest rising. Arms loose now.

His hair had stuck slightly to his forehead.

And he didn’t go to wear the shirt.

He just stood there, watching me watch him.

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