29-04-2025, 05:20 AM
Episode 33: Breathing the Same Air
The classroom buzzed faintly with the sound of pencils scratching paper, students murmuring over notes.
Arjun sat still, barely moving.
In front of him, Meera moved between the rows, a bundle of books balanced lightly in her arms.
Her saree whispered around her ankles, the pleats swaying gently with each step.
She wasn't doing anything unusual.
No glances.
No teasing.
Just teaching.
But to Arjun, she burned brighter than anything else in the room.
He couldn’t unsee her now.
Couldn’t unfeel her.
The dream clung to him like a second skin — the sight of Priya’s hands at Meera’s waist, Meera’s soft surrender, the curve of her body in the half-light.
It lived behind his eyes even now, distorting reality until it was impossible to tell where the dream ended and the present began.
---
The Smallest Shift
At one point, Meera leaned slightly over a student’s desk to explain a formula.
Her saree tugged tighter across her back, and the soft hollow of her waist became visible for just a second under the careful dbanging.
Arjun’s throat closed up.
He dropped his gaze immediately to his notebook, heart hammering painfully against his ribs.
But it was too late.
The image was already burned into him.
Every part of him ached with a longing he didn’t know how to contain anymore.
---
Inside Arjun’s Mind
> How can she not know?
How can she just move so easily through the world, unaware of what she’s doing to me?
He gripped his pen harder, feeling the plastic bite into his fingers.
He wasn’t angry at her.
He was angry at himself.
At his own helplessness.
At the way one sleepless night and one dream had turned everything inside him into wildfire.
He tried to listen to her voice.
Tried to focus on the math problem on the board.
But all he could hear was the soft, breathless sound of her in the dream.
All he could feel was the phantom touch of Priya's fingers gliding over Meera's skin.
He was trapped inside it now — caught between memory and reality, between hope and hopelessness.
And Meera — beautiful, composed Meera — had no idea.
---
After the Class – Arjun’s Private Collapse
The bell rang, shrill and distant, signaling the end of the period.
Students stood up noisily, chairs scbanging back, papers shuffling.
The room blurred around Arjun.
He stayed seated, pretending to gather his books slowly, waiting for the crowd to thin out.
Waiting for her to leave first.
When Meera finally walked out, her saree brushing lightly past his desk, Arjun caught a faint breath of her—
that clean, soft scent he couldn’t name.
It broke him.
He packed his bag in a daze, not speaking to anyone, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Head down, heart hammering.
He needed to escape.
Now.
---
In the Empty Boys' Restroom
Arjun slipped into the nearest restroom, locking himself into a stall, breathing hard.
The small space spun around him.
He leaned against the cool wall, pressing his forehead against it, eyes shut tightly — but it didn’t help.
All he could see was her.
Meera's waist, the sway of her walk, the soft movement of her pleats.
The dream.
The scent.
The sound of her laughing, unaware of the fire she was leaving behind.
His body trembled from the tension he couldn’t fight anymore.
And before he even fully realized what he was doing—the release came.
Fast.
Powerful.
Unstoppable.
His breath hitched against the wall, body tensing, heart hammering painfully against his ribs.
When it was over, he sagged against the wall, wiped-out, stunned by how little it had taken.
---
Inside Arjun’s Head
He hated the weakness.
Hated how easily she had undone him without even trying.
> She doesn't know.
She can't know.
She must never know.
But deep down, even through the shame and the helplessness, he knew:
He didn’t want to forget.
He didn’t want to erase the burn she left behind.
He wanted more.
Even if it destroyed him.
---
To be continued…
The classroom buzzed faintly with the sound of pencils scratching paper, students murmuring over notes.
Arjun sat still, barely moving.
In front of him, Meera moved between the rows, a bundle of books balanced lightly in her arms.
Her saree whispered around her ankles, the pleats swaying gently with each step.
She wasn't doing anything unusual.
No glances.
No teasing.
Just teaching.
But to Arjun, she burned brighter than anything else in the room.
He couldn’t unsee her now.
Couldn’t unfeel her.
The dream clung to him like a second skin — the sight of Priya’s hands at Meera’s waist, Meera’s soft surrender, the curve of her body in the half-light.
It lived behind his eyes even now, distorting reality until it was impossible to tell where the dream ended and the present began.
---
The Smallest Shift
At one point, Meera leaned slightly over a student’s desk to explain a formula.
Her saree tugged tighter across her back, and the soft hollow of her waist became visible for just a second under the careful dbanging.
Arjun’s throat closed up.
He dropped his gaze immediately to his notebook, heart hammering painfully against his ribs.
But it was too late.
The image was already burned into him.
Every part of him ached with a longing he didn’t know how to contain anymore.
---
Inside Arjun’s Mind
> How can she not know?
How can she just move so easily through the world, unaware of what she’s doing to me?
He gripped his pen harder, feeling the plastic bite into his fingers.
He wasn’t angry at her.
He was angry at himself.
At his own helplessness.
At the way one sleepless night and one dream had turned everything inside him into wildfire.
He tried to listen to her voice.
Tried to focus on the math problem on the board.
But all he could hear was the soft, breathless sound of her in the dream.
All he could feel was the phantom touch of Priya's fingers gliding over Meera's skin.
He was trapped inside it now — caught between memory and reality, between hope and hopelessness.
And Meera — beautiful, composed Meera — had no idea.
---
After the Class – Arjun’s Private Collapse
The bell rang, shrill and distant, signaling the end of the period.
Students stood up noisily, chairs scbanging back, papers shuffling.
The room blurred around Arjun.
He stayed seated, pretending to gather his books slowly, waiting for the crowd to thin out.
Waiting for her to leave first.
When Meera finally walked out, her saree brushing lightly past his desk, Arjun caught a faint breath of her—
that clean, soft scent he couldn’t name.
It broke him.
He packed his bag in a daze, not speaking to anyone, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Head down, heart hammering.
He needed to escape.
Now.
---
In the Empty Boys' Restroom
Arjun slipped into the nearest restroom, locking himself into a stall, breathing hard.
The small space spun around him.
He leaned against the cool wall, pressing his forehead against it, eyes shut tightly — but it didn’t help.
All he could see was her.
Meera's waist, the sway of her walk, the soft movement of her pleats.
The dream.
The scent.
The sound of her laughing, unaware of the fire she was leaving behind.
His body trembled from the tension he couldn’t fight anymore.
And before he even fully realized what he was doing—the release came.
Fast.
Powerful.
Unstoppable.
His breath hitched against the wall, body tensing, heart hammering painfully against his ribs.
When it was over, he sagged against the wall, wiped-out, stunned by how little it had taken.
---
Inside Arjun’s Head
He hated the weakness.
Hated how easily she had undone him without even trying.
> She doesn't know.
She can't know.
She must never know.
But deep down, even through the shame and the helplessness, he knew:
He didn’t want to forget.
He didn’t want to erase the burn she left behind.
He wanted more.
Even if it destroyed him.
---
To be continued…
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