30-04-2025, 02:43 PM
Update 3:
Nisha's eyes took in the familiar sights of her neighborhood, the brightly lit houses with their open windows revealing snippets of family life within. The sound of a TV playing a Bollywood melodrama floated through the air, mingling with the laughter of children playing in the street. It was a world she knew well, but it felt like a cage compared to the freedom she had just experienced.
As she approached her own house, she took a moment to compose herself. She straightened her clothes, smoothing down her dress and making sure her veil was in place. The scent of her mother's cooking wafted through the air, a mix of spices and aromatic rice that never failed to make her stomach growl. The door was open, as it often was when the family was home, and she slipped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping her.
Her parents were already seated at the dining table, their plates piled high with steaming food. Meera looked up from her plate and beamed at the sight of her daughter. "Nisha, you're just in time!" she exclaimed. "Come, eat with us."
Nisha forced a smile, the taste of Kumar's cum still lingering on her lips. She walked over to the sink, washing her hands before sitting down at the table. Her father, Ashiq, looked up from his newspaper, his stern gaze briefly flickering over her before returning to the headlines. She knew he had no idea of the secret she carried with her, the one that threatened to tear apart the very fabric of their family's honor.
"Nisha, what do you think about Aslam?" Meera's voice was hopeful, her eyes searching Nisha's for any sign of approval. Nisha took a deep breath, her mind racing. How could she put into words the tumult of emotions she felt about the man she was about to marry? How could she explain that she didn't know him, that she had given herself to another, and that she was terrified of the life that lay ahead of her?
But before she could respond, Rahim stepped in, his voice a gentle interjection. "Mom, give her some time," he said, his eyes flicking to Nisha's before returning to their mother's concerned gaze. "Today she's talked with Aslam's parents and seen Aslam's pic. Give her some time to process."
Meera nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, beta," she said, patting Nisha's hand. "You must be tired."
Nisha forced a smile, grateful for the reprieve. She pushed her chair back and stood, the fabric of her salwar whispering against the floor. "Yes, I think I'll go to bed early," she said, her voice a lie that she hoped didn't sound as hollow as it felt.
Her mother nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and hope. "Get some rest, beta," she said, her voice gentle. "You're going to need it."
Nisha made her way to her room, her legs feeling like lead. The weight of the day's events, the tension of the marriage meeting, and the intensity of her encounter with Kumar, it all felt like it was pressing down on her, threatening to crush her. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment, her heart racing.
With trembling hands, she began to strip away her clothes, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. Each layer fell away like a burden being shed, revealing the woman beneath the modest exterior. Her breasts, full and heavy, bounced free of their confines, the nipples still sensitive from Kumar's rough touch. She shimmied out of her salwar, letting it pool at her feet before untying her veil. The fabric slipped away, her hair falling around her shoulders in a dark curtain, a symbol of the secrets she kept hidden from the world.
Her eyes took in her reflection in the full-length mirror, the bruises on her neck and the marks on her skin a stark reminder of her transgressions. Yet, she felt alive, more alive than she had in weeks. Her hand hovered over the marks, tracing the path of Kumar's desire with a gentle touch. The room felt too warm, the air thick with the scent of their lovemaking that lingered on her skin.
With a sigh, Nisha turned away from the mirror, the cold floor tiles a shock against her bare feet. She crossed the room to her bed, the soft mattress beckoning her weary body. She slid in between the cool sheets, the fabric whispering a promise of rest against her skin. Her thoughts drifted to Aslam, the man she had yet to meet but whose name was already etched in her future. Would he be gentle or demanding? Would he expect her to be as unblemished as the bedsheets she now lay upon?
Her hand traveled to her neck, her fingertips tracing the love bites Kumar had left. The pain was faint, but the memory of his teeth on her skin was vivid. It was a stark contrast to the gentle touch she had imagined Aslam would have, a touch she had only read about in her secret stash of romance novels. She wondered if the reality of marriage would ever live up to the passionate tales she had read, or if she was destined for a life of quiet resignation.
With a sigh, she turned off the light, the room plunging into darkness. The silence was a balm to her frayed nerves, a welcome reprieve from the cacophony of expectations that had been her day. She lay down on her bed, the coolness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat still pulsing through her body. Nisha closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but she focused on her breathing, letting it slow and deepen until her thoughts began to blur.
Sleep came, but it was a restless, fitful affair, haunted by dreams of Kumar's touch and the looming specter of her impending marriage. She woke up to the sudden alarm on her phone, jolting upright with a gasp. The digital display read 6:30 AM. She had set it early, knowing that the day ahead would require all her strength and composure. The room was still shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the sliver of moon peeking through the curtains.
With a sigh, Nisha swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded towards the bathroom. She turned on the lights, the stark fluorescence illuminating her tired features. She stared at herself in the mirror, the reflection showing the dark circles under her eyes, a silent testament to her tumultuous thoughts. She reached for her toothpaste, squeezing a dollop onto her toothbrush, and began the mindless task of brushing her teeth, the minty freshness a small comfort in the face of the day ahead.
The sound of the water running filled the small space as she stepped into the shower, the spray hitting her skin with a force that was almost painful. She let the water wash away the sweat and the memories of the night before, the heat of the shower a stark contrast to the cold fear that gripped her heart. She lathered herself with soap, scrubbing away the scent of Kumar, as if by doing so she could erase the very thought of him. The water ran down her body, pooling at her feet, carrying with it the weight of her secret.
As she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her, she heard the knock on her door. Her heart skipped a beat, the fabric tightening around her as she froze in place. Who could it be at this hour? She glanced at the clock—it was still early, the house wrapped in a silent embrace of slumber.
"Nisha, beta, are you okay?" Her mother's voice was soft but firm. "You've been in there a long time. Breakfast is almost ready."
Nisha took a deep breath, steeling herself before she opened the door. Meera's eyes searched hers, a hint of concern etched into the lines around them. "Mom, I'm just getting ready," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I'll be out soon."
Her mother looked at her, her gaze lingering on the towel that barely contained her daughter's ample curves. "Nisha, beta," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You're a grown woman now. You know what people say, what they think. You can't just wander around the house like this."
Nisha felt the heat creep up her neck, her hand tightening on the towel. She knew her mother was right; she had been careless. But the late night with Kumar had left her feeling raw, exposed, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with more scrutiny. "I'm sorry, mom," she mumbled, her eyes darting to the floor. "I'll be more careful."
Meera nodded, her gaze lingering for a moment longer before she turned and left. Nisha let out the breath she had been holding and reached for her clothes, her hand shaking as she dressed herself for the day. She chose a white top that hung loosely over her curves, reaching just past her knees. It was modest, unassuming, the perfect armor for the role she had to play. The jeans she slipped into hugged her hips, but she knew that under her traditional garments, they would be hidden, a secret she could keep even from herself.
The mirror in her room was a silent judge, reflecting the image of a homely, traditional woman. Her makeup was minimal, a few swipes of kajal to accent her eyes, a dab of lip balm to soften her mouth. She wrapped her hair in a simple chunni, the colors of which matched her outfit. As she looked into the mirror, she saw not the woman who had just experienced the height of passion with her lover, but the daughter who had been promised to another. The woman who had to keep her desires and her secrets buried deep beneath layers of tradition and duty.
Nisha took a deep breath, gathering her courage. She picked up her laptop, a lifeline to the outside world that offered her a semblance of control amidst the chaos of her life. It was her sanctuary, a place where she could escape into the arms of Kumar without fear of being caught. As she stepped out of her room, the smell of breakfast filled the air, the sizzle of spices and the aroma of chai a comforting yet jarring reminder of the life she was expected to lead.
Rahim was at the dining table, his plate piled high with eggs and toast, a rare treat before college. He looked up as she approached, his eyes taking in her rumpled clothes and sleep-laden face. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. Nisha nodded, offering a weak smile. "Yeah, just couldn't sleep."
Meera emerged from the kitchen, her hands laden with a plate of parathas, a steaming cup of chai, and a small bowl of curd. She placed the food in front of Nisha, her eyes filled with a silent question. Nisha felt the weight of her mother's gaze but said nothing, picking up her fork and pushing the food around her plate. The silence was deafening, the clink of cutlery echoing in the quiet room.
Her father entered, the newspaper tucked under his arm, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Nisha. "You look tired," he said, his voice gruff. Nisha nodded, taking a sip of the sweet, spiced tea. "I had a lot on my mind."
Ashiq nodded, his gaze lingering on her before he turned to leave. "It's a big decision," he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. "But remember, your mother and I are here for you."
The door clicked shut behind him, and Nisha felt the tension in her shoulders ease. She turned to Rahim, her eyes pleading. "Please, when will you send Aslam's number?" she whispered urgently.
Rahim took a bite of his toast, his gaze meeting hers with a hint of mischief. "Nish, relax," he said with a cheeky grin. "I'll send it to you by this afternoon, I promise." He winked at her, the same way he did when they were kids, and she knew he was telling the truth.
Nisha nodded, her eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. Time was slipping through her fingers like the water in her shower, and she had to get to work. "Mom, it's getting late," she said, her voice a tapestry of urgency and nerves. "I'll go."
Meera's eyes searched hers for a moment before she nodded. "Remember what I said, beta," she murmured, her voice a gentle reminder of the weight of Nisha's decision. "The groom's family will want an answer today."
Nisha nodded, the gravity of her words sinking in. "Ok, I will tell you by evening," she said, her voice firm despite the quaver in her heart. She knew she had to make a choice, one that would affect the rest of her life. But how could she choose when her heart was torn between duty and desire?
The drive to work was a blur, the streets passing by in a haze of early morning traffic. Nisha's thoughts raced faster than the cars around her, each one a question, a doubt, a memory of Kumar's touch. She parked in the office lot, the engine's purr dying down to a soft hum. The building loomed ahead, a bastion of normalcy in a world that felt anything but.
With a deep breath, she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking on the pavement. The cool morning breeze whispered against her skin, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked earth and the promise of a new day. The doors to the office building swung open with a hiss, the chilly air inside a stark contrast to the heat outside. She walked through the lobby, her eyes scanning the faces of her colleagues, but none of them knew her secret.
The elevator's chrome doors reflected the fluorescent lights of the lobby, a mirror to the façade she wore. As they closed, she felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, if only for a moment. The ascent to her office was a silent reprieve, the artificial hum of the elevator the only sound as it climbed floor after floor. Nisha leaned against the cool metal wall, her eyes closed, imagining Kumar's arms around her again, his whispered promises of love and freedom echoing in her ears.
When the doors slid open, she stepped out into the bustling office space, her heels clicking a rhythm of determination across the gleaming floor. The other employees, immersed in their own lives, barely spared her a glance as she made her way to her cubicle, a tiny bastion of privacy in the open-plan layout. She settled into her chair, the leather cool against her still-flushed skin, and booted up her computer. The screen flickered to life, a stark contrast to the darkness of her thoughts.
Her inbox was a minefield of deadlines and demands, each email a reminder of the responsibilities she had outside of her personal tumult. Nisha took a deep breath and began to tackle the day's work, her fingers flying over the keyboard with a speed and precision that had earned her respect in the company. She was good at her job, damn good, and it was one of the few aspects of her life she could control.
As she worked, her mind wandered back to the previous night, the heat of Kumar's body against hers, the way he had made her feel alive. She had to push those thoughts aside, though. She had a team to manage, a career to build. She couldn't let her personal life interfere with her work, not when she had so much riding on her professional success.
Her fingers danced over the keyboard, sending out emails and messages with a speed that belied the chaos in her mind. She had a conference call in an hour, and she needed to be fully present for it. She stood up, her chair rolling back with a faint squeak, and approached one of her team members, Rohan. "I need the quarterly reports by 2 PM," she said, her voice firm despite the tremble in her chest. "Make sure they're detailed and error-free. No excuses."
Rohan looked up from his screen, his eyes widening slightly at the urgency in her tone. "Yes, ma'am," he said, nodding. Nisha knew he was efficient, but she couldn't help but feel a knot of anxiety at the thought of leaving anything to chance. She had built her reputation on her meticulousness and she wasn't about to let a personal crisis threaten it.
As the day progressed, Nisha's thoughts remained scattered, flitting between her impending marriage and the passionate interlude with Kumar. She found solace in the familiar rhythms of work, the steady flow of tasks providing a semblance of normalcy amidst the turmoil. Yet, with every email she sent, every report she reviewed, the anticipation of receiving Aslam's number grew, a persistent throb beneath the surface of her focus.
Finally, the notification chimed on her phone. A message from Rahim, the digital bubble pulsing with the weight of its contents. She paused, her hand hovering over the screen, her heart racing like a wild animal caught in the crosshairs of fate. With trembling fingers, she tapped the message open. There it was, a simple string of digits and a message: "This is Aslam's number. Don't forget our deal. Transfer 5000 Rs. to my account and I'll take your car tomorrow."
Nisha couldn't help but smile, a mix of relief and mirth at her brother's cheekiness. She quickly typed out her response, adding a kiss smiley for good measure: "Thank you my cutie brother ? I'll transfer the money tonight. And you better take good care of my car!" She hit send, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. The die had been cast, and now she waited for the universe to reveal its hand.
Her stomach rumbled, a reminder that she hadn't had breakfast. She decided to use the lull in her work to grab something from the canteen. As she made her way through the office's maze of cubicles, she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone knew her secret. The glances thrown her way seemed to hold a knowing look, a silent question about her night's escapade. But she held her head high, the same way she had done every day, hiding the tumult of her soul beneath the veneer of professionalism.
The canteen was a cacophony of laughter and the clatter of cutlery, the smell of spices mingling with the faint scent of coffee. She picked out a plate of idli sambar, a comforting staple that she hoped would ease her jangling nerves. As she paid for her meal, she felt the weight of Aslam's number in her pocket, a silent companion to her fears.
With her tray in hand, Nisha scanned the room for a private corner, a place to make the call that would irrevocably change her life. She found a spot at the far end of the canteen, a solitary chair tucked away from the prying eyes of her colleagues. She set down her tray and took a deep breath, her hand shaking as she pulled out her phone.
Her thumb hovered over the number, the digits seemingly pulsing with the power to either grant her freedom or entrap her further in the cage of duty. She closed her eyes for a moment, whispering a silent prayer for guidance. Then, with a decisive swipe, she dialed Aslam's number.
The line rang once, twice, and on the third ring, a voice answered, deep and slightly groggy. "Hello?" he said, the word stretching out into the morning quiet of the canteen. Nisha's heart skipped a beat, the sound of his voice sending a tremor through her.
"Hello," she replied, her voice a whisper of nerves and anticipation. "This is Nisha." There was a brief pause, the silence thick with unspoken questions and answers. She could almost hear his mind racing, wondering who this mysterious caller was, and why she was reaching out to him before they had even met in person.
"Nisha," Aslam finally responded, his tone a mix of curiosity and confusion. "How did you get my number? I was under the impression that we should not speak before marriage." His words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the unspoken rules that governed their lives, the expectations that had been set for them by their families and culture.
Nisha took a deep breath, her grip on the phone tightening. "Aslam," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hand. "I know this is unorthodox, but I have to speak with you before we proceed with the engagement. I need to know that we can communicate, that we can share our thoughts and feelings with each other." She paused, giving him a moment to digest her words. "Do you object?"
There was a pause on the line, the silence stretching out like a tightrope she had to navigate. "No, I don't object," Aslam finally said, his voice clear now, the confusion replaced with something closer to curiosity. "It's just that my family prefers that way and told me that you were also in the same thought. I wanted to respect your wishes as well."
Nisha felt a warmth spread through her chest. It was a small gesture, but the fact that he was willing to break from tradition to speak with her was a beacon of hope in a sea of doubt. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the din of the canteen. "But I wanted to talk to you before I say ok," she continued, her voice a little stronger now, the blush on her cheeks deepening.
Aslam's tone softened. "I understand," he said. "What is it that you wish to discuss?" His voice was deep and resonant, and Nisha felt a strange comfort in the sound of it, a stark contrast to the chaos in her mind.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she took the plunge. "I think it's better if we meet," she said, the words slipping out of her mouth like a confession. "I need to see you, to talk to you in person." There was a brief silence, the sound of his breathing a gentle reminder of his presence on the other end of the line.
"Alright," Aslam said, his voice measured. "I'm working in Bangalore, but this weekend I'll be in Chennai. We can meet then."
The mention of Bangalore sent a cold shiver down Nisha's spine. Her thoughts spun faster than the fan above her, the realization hitting her like a sledgehammer. "But... no one told me that," she stuttered, her hand tightening around the phone. "I thought you worked in Chennai."
Aslam's voice took on a slightly apologetic tone. "Yes, I work in Bangalore," he confirmed, the words sinking into her like a lead weight. "But I was hoping that once we marry, you could move there with me." Nisha felt the world tilt around her, the walls of the canteen closing in. Her job, her life here in Chennai, all of it felt so far away, so out of reach. She had worked tirelessly to climb the corporate ladder, to build a life for herself that she could be proud of, and now it all seemed to be slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.
"But what about my work here?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and desperation. "Do you want me to quit?" The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of what they meant—leaving everything she knew and loved behind.
"No, Nisha," Aslam responded, his voice a gentle caress over the line. "You're an engineer at TCS, right? They have offices in Bangalore. You can easily get transferred." Nisha felt a warmth spread through her chest, a sizzling ember of hope amidst the ashes of her fear. He knew about her job, had thought about her career, and was willing to accommodate her. It was more than she had ever dared to hope for in a marriage partner.
"Yeah, I can do that," she said, her voice a whisper of excitement. "But what if they don't transfer me? What if—"
Aslam cut her off with a chuckle, the sound sending a wave of warmth through the cold steel of the phone. "Don't worry," he said, his confidence infectious. "I have some connections. I'll make sure everything is sorted."
Nisha felt the beginnings of a smile tug at her lips. It was strange, talking to a man she had never met, a man she was supposed to marry, about her job and her future. But there was something comforting in his words, something that made her feel seen and heard in a way she hadn't in a long time. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice a tapestry of relief and hope.
The conversation flowed easily, as if they had known each other for years. They talked about their interests, their hopes, their fears. Aslam spoke about his love for photography, the way he liked to capture moments in time that could never be recreated. Nisha listened, her heart swelling with a feeling she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity—a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the confines of their arranged union.
"Nisha," Aslam said, his voice earnest. "I want you to know that I'm not just some guy that your family picked for you. I have my own dreams and aspirations, and I want to share them with you."
Her heart fluttered as she listened, realizing that he had just given her a glimpse into his world. "It's good to talk to you too, Aslam," she replied, the words coming more freely now. "What do you do? What's your job?"
"Nisha, I'm a civil engineer," he said, his voice filled with pride. "I work for a construction company in Bangalore. They pay me well, 2,50,000 Rs a month. It's enough to rent a nice two-bedroom apartment for us. I've already found one, close to the office. It's got a view of the city, and I think you'll love it."
Nisha felt her heart race at the thought of moving to Bangalore with a man she had never met. Yet, his honesty was refreshing, a cool breeze through the stifling confines of her current situation. "I'm an engineer too," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "It's nice to know we'll have that in common."
Aslam chuckled, the sound resonating through the phone. "Yes," he agreed. "It's like we're two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, even though we didn't know we were looking for each other." His words were sweet, but Nisha couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for her secret affair with Kumar.
"Aslam," she began, her voice a symphony of doubt and hope. "I need to be honest with you too. I... I've never felt this way about someone before. I don't know if it's love, but I know that I can't ignore this connection we have." She held her breath, waiting for his response, her heart racing like a wild horse in her chest.
He was quiet for a moment, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bird's song. Then, he spoke, his voice as gentle as the first light of dawn. "Nisha," he said, "I understand your fears. But I want you to know that I'm willing to take this leap of faith with you. I want to know you, all of you. Your work, your dreams, your fears."
Nisha felt a tear slip down her cheek, unnoticed by the bustling crowd around her. "I'm working in an IT firm as a project team lead," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I've worked hard to get to this position." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the rest of her confession. "My father is strict, my mother is sweet, and my little brother is the one I turn to when I need help." She omitted the details of her college escapades and her current affair with Kumar, the omission a small lie that felt like a boulder on her soul.
Aslam was silent for a beat too long, and she wondered if she had made a mistake, if she had just ruined any chance she had with him. But then, he said, "Nice," and it was the most beautiful word she had ever heard. It was a simple affirmation, a single syllable that carried the weight of understanding and acceptance. It was a promise that he saw her, that he didn't just see the daughter and sister she was expected to be, but the person she truly was.
Nisha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Aslam," she began, her voice a soft crescendo of nerves. "Do you smoke and drink?"
The question hung in the air, a delicate thread of inquiry that she knew could unravel the fabric of their conversation. She needed to know if he could accept her for who she was, flaws and all. The silence on the line was palpable, a heartbeat in the digital ether that seemed to stretch on forever.
And then he spoke, his voice a gentle rumble that reverberated through the speaker. "Honestly, yes, I do smoke. But not excessively," he admitted, the words unfurling like a banner of truth. "It's a habit I picked up in college, and it's something I've been trying to quit."
Nisha laughed, the tension in her chest loosening. "No problem with that," she said, her voice lilting with mirth. "So, I can tell you drink also, right?"
"Occasionally," Aslam confessed, his voice a low rumble of amusement. "But not too much. I like to keep my head clear."
Nisha felt a weight lift from her shoulders. "That's good to know," she said, smiling into the phone. "I'd prefer a partner who's in control of their habits."
They continued to talk, sharing stories of their lives, their hopes, and their dreams. Aslam spoke of his love for cooking, how he liked to experiment with different dishes in his small kitchen in Bangalore, the aromas wafting through the apartment like a warm embrace. Nisha found herself smiling at the thought of sharing meals with him, of learning his favorite recipes and creating new ones together. It was a stark contrast to the passionate but secretive moments she had shared with Kumar, moments that now felt like a distant memory, a fleeting affair in the shadow of the life she was meant to lead.
As the conversation grew deeper, she felt a strange sense of peace. This man, a stranger just minutes ago, was offering her a future filled with understanding and support, a life where she could be both a wife and a professional. Her heart swelled with a feeling she hadn't allowed herself to feel in the chaos of her secret love affair—hope.
"So, Nisha," Aslam said, his voice a gentle caress through the phone line, "what do you say? Will you marry me?"
Nisha's heart skipped a beat, the question echoing in her mind like a gunshot in a quiet room. She had known this moment was coming, had been preparing for it her whole life, but now that it was here, she felt unprepared. Her thoughts raced back to Kumar, to the passionate whispers and stolen kisses in the office park. The guilt of her secret affair weighed on her like a heavy shroud, but she knew that she had to make a choice.
With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. "You will know it from your parents," she said, her voice a delicate balance of coyness and conviction. The words hung in the air, a veiled acceptance wrapped in the respect for tradition that she had been raised to uphold. She heard the soft click as Aslam's breath hitched in surprise, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of regret for the path she was about to set her life on.
Her heart racing, she ended the call, the sudden silence in her ears a stark contrast to the cacophony of the canteen. Nisha looked down at her untouched breakfast, the idli sambar now cold and unappealing. The phone remained in her hand, a digital bridge to a future she wasn't quite ready to embrace fully. She felt the warmth of it against her skin, a silent witness to her conversation.
With a deep breath, she stood up, the legs of the chair scbanging against the tiles. The journey to Kumar's office felt like a pilgrimage, each step carrying her closer to a confession she wasn't sure she was ready to make. The hallways were a blur, her thoughts swirling like a storm in her mind. She had to tell him about Aslam, about the call, about the choice that loomed before her like a fork in the road.
Nisha's hand trembled as she reached out to knock on the door of the office she knew so well. The wood was cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. She heard the muffled sounds of typing, the murmur of his voice on a conference call. She waited, the anticipation building within her like the crescendo of an orchestra before the final note.
Finally, the door swung open, revealing Kumar hunched over his desk, engrossed in his work. He looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. The smile on his face was like a beacon in the storm of her thoughts. "Nisha," he said, his voice a warm caress. "What's up?"
Without a word, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, her eyes locking onto his. The air was thick with the scent of his cologne, the familiarity of it making her heart ache. She took a deep breath and then said it, the words slipping out like a whispered secret. "Remove your pants," she instructed, her voice steady despite the chaos within her.
Kumar's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze flickering down to her hand that was already moving to her knees. Before he could react, she was in front of him, kneeling, her palms pressing into the fabric of his trousers. His voice was a soft protest, "But-"
But Nisha was insistent, her eyes pleading. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, her hands moving with a confidence that belied the tremble in her touch. His uncut dick sprang free, erect and demanding. It was a stark reminder of their illicit connection, a symbol of the passion that had driven them into this clandestine relationship.
Her lips parted, and she took him in her mouth, sucking him fast and hard. The sound of her eager mouth on his skin was muffled by the closed door, but it echoed through Kumar's body like a siren's call, setting his blood on fire. His hand found the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair, urging her on. The taste of him was a heady cocktail of desire and desperation, and she greedily lapped it up, her mind racing with the knowledge that this could be one of their last moments together.
Kumar moaned, his eyes closing in ecstasy as he felt the pressure building in his balls. He could feel the tension coiling tighter with every stroke of her tongue, every suck. The sound of his pleasure was like a symphony to her ears, a sweet melody that sang of their shared passion. She took him deeper, her throat tightening around him, her cheeks hollowing with the effort of keeping him there.
"Nisha," Kumar gasped, his hand tightening in her hair. "I'm about to cum." His voice was a ragged whisper, a desperate plea for release. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and gave a nod, her mouth still full. This was it, the culmination of their secret love, the moment she had feared and craved in equal measure.
With a sudden jolt, she stood up, her breasts bouncing with the urgency of her movements. Before he could protest, she turned and bent over his desk, her hands gripping the edge for support. With a swift movement, she yanked down her jeans, revealing the damp fabric of her panties. "Not yet," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I need a fuck."
Kumar's eyes widened as she positioned herself, her bare ass in the air, the pinkness of her pussy peeking out from the fabric of her underwear. His cock stood at attention, the veins bulging with his need for her. Without another word, she pulled aside her panties and sat back, enveloping his hardness in her wet warmth.
Her pussy was tight around him, the walls clenching as he filled her up. Nisha bit her lower lip to stifle a moan, her eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of Kumar inside her was almost too much to bear, a mix of pain and pleasure that she had grown to crave. She began to bounce up and down, her movements tentative at first but growing more confident with each thrust.
The sound of their flesh slapping filled the room, a rhythmic crescendo that seemed to drown out the rest of the world. She could feel the tension building in her core, the pressure mounting with each bounce. The friction was exquisite, a sweet agony that made her want to scream out his name. But she couldn't, not here, not now. The fear of discovery was a constant companion, a dark shadow that lurked in the corner of her mind, threatening to swallow her whole.
Kumar's grip on her hips tightened as he matched her pace, his breathing growing ragged. Nisha felt his cock swell within her, a prelude to the release she knew was imminent. She leaned back, her breasts brushing against his chest, the friction of their skin a delicious torment that made her want to beg for more.
Her orgasm was a wildfire, consuming her from within. It started as a spark, a flicker of pleasure that grew into a raging inferno that threatened to consume her whole. She moaned Kumar's name, her voice a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate through the very air. Her pussy clenched around his cock, her body shuddering with the force of her climax.
Kumar's grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He could feel his own release building, a volcano about to erupt. And then it did, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. His cum spurted out, painting her thighs with thick white streaks, a visual testament to their shared passion.
Nisha's orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing with pleasure. She could feel his warmth on her skin, a stark contrast to the coldness of the desk against her stomach. It was messy, it was raw, and it was everything she hadn't known she needed. The tension in her body unfurled like a coil spring, leaving her boneless and trembling.
As the aftershocks of their passion subsided, she slowly stood up, her legs wobbly with the intensity of their encounter. Kumar's seed dripped down her thighs, a sticky reminder of their illicit love. She reached for her panties, her hands shaking as she pulled them back into place, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. She tugged her jeans up, the zipper a harsh reminder of the reality that waited outside the office door.
Kumar watched her, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked lost, his eyes searching hers for answers she wasn't ready to give. "Nisha, what happened?" he finally managed to ask, his voice a rough whisper that scbangd against the silence of the room.
Nisha took a shaky breath, her eyes flicking to the floor. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, a silent confession of the tumult in her soul. "I...I had a call with Aslam," she began, her voice a tremulous thread of sound. "He's...he's not what I expected."
Kumar's eyes narrowed, the realization dawning on him like a cold slap in the face. He zipped up his pants, tucking his shirt back into place. The scent of their passion lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the tension that was now thick as fog in the room. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tight with control.
Nisha turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I talked to him," she said, her voice a shaky whisper. "He's...different. He's not just the man my parents have chosen for me."
Kumar's expression grew serious as he took in her words. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate as he pulled his pants back on. "How so?"
Nisha took a deep, shaky breath, her hand wiping away the stray tear that had escaped. "He... he talked to me like a person, not just a future wife. He wants to know about my job, my dreams, my fears." The weight of her confession hung in the air between them, a stark contrast to the passion they had just shared. "He's willing to support my career, and he... he seems genuine."
Kumar's eyes searched hers, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Nisha, that's great," he said, his voice filled with genuine happiness for her. "It's good to know that he's not going to hold you back." He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. "You deserve to be with someone who understands you, who appreciates you for all that you are."
But Nisha couldn't meet his gaze. "He's honest with me," she whispered, her voice a tremulous confession. "But I... I couldn't be honest with him, Kumar. I couldn't tell him about my multiple affairs during college, about the times I've stolen away with you, even now, while you're married."
Kumar's hand stilled on her cheek, his eyes searching hers. "Nisha," he said, his voice firm but gentle, "you're confusing your needs with love. What we have here," he gestured around the office, "this is desire, this is passion. It's not the same as what you'll have with Aslam."
Nisha pulled away from his touch, a frown etching itself into her features. "You're right," she conceded, her voice a tremulous whisper. "But I don't want to lie to him. I can't keep living this double life, hiding who I am." She looked down at her desk, her eyes misting over as she thought of the countless times she had snuck into Kumar's office, the secret glances and stolen kisses that had become the foundation of their illicit love.
Kumar stepped closer, his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her skin in gentle circles. "You don't have to tell him everything," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "But you do have to make a choice." He paused, his eyes searching hers, the unspoken question hanging between them. "Do you love me?"
Nisha swallowed hard, the weight of her words like a boulder on her tongue. "No," she finally whispered, the lie a sour taste in her mouth. "I don't love you, Kumar. I'm here for my lust." She pulled away from his embrace, her eyes meeting his with a steely resolve. "What we have is about passion, not love. It's about filling the void when I'm lonely, when I need something more than what my marriage to Aslam can offer."
Kumar's hands fell to his sides, his eyes searched hers. He knew the truth, the unspoken love that simmered just beneath the surface of their illicit affair. "I understand," he said, his voice a low rumble of regret. "But you're going to marry Aslam." He took a step closer, his hands finding her waist, his thumbs tracing the curve of her hips. "Does he make you feel this way?" He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as his thumbs slipped beneath her Top to squeeze her full breasts.
Nisha's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her body responded to his touch despite her attempt to resist. "It's not just about how he makes me feel," she said, her voice strained. "It's about what I need, what I want."
Kumar leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. "What do you want?" he whispered, his thumbs continuing to tease her sensitive nipples through the fabric of her blouse. "Do you want me to fuck you right here, right now, until you forget about Aslam?" His voice was a siren's song, a tempting melody that threatened to lure her back into the stormy sea of their affair.
But Nisha's resolve was unshaken. She pushed him away, her eyes flashing with a determination that surprised even herself. "My dick manager," she said, her voice a steely whisper that seemed to echo through the room, "only one time allowed in a day, and that's finished." Her words were a slap in the face, a declaration of her newfound strength.
Kumar stepped back, his expression a mix of shock and admiration. He knew Nisha was a woman of passion, but this side of her, this fiery independence, was something new, something exhilarating. He watched as she straightened her clothes, her movements efficient and deliberate.
"Your wife needs a fuck now and then," Nisha said, her voice a teasing purr as she sat across him. The words hung in the air, a challenge and a declaration wrapped in one. She leaned back in the chair, her legs crossed, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Kumar's eyes narrowed, the smugness in her tone like a match to his ego. "What ever," he said, his voice a lazy drawl that belied the fire in his belly. He knew she was playing games, but he also knew that she was right. His wife had needs that he couldn't always fulfill, and he had never denied her the right to seek satisfaction elsewhere. It was an open secret in their marriage, one that had kept their union strong despite its unorthodoxy.
"Now back to the topic," Nisha said, her voice a soft yet firm reminder of the conversation they had been having before passion had overtaken them. She sat back down on the chair, her legs crossed, her eyes on him as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. The room was still thick with the scent of their lovemaking, a heady mix of sweat and desire that clung to the air like a mist.
"I will need you to transfer me to Bangalore," she continued, her tone measured and steady. She watched as he paused, his hand hovering over his tie.
"Bangalore?" Kumar echoed, his voice a mix of surprise and concern. "What's in Bangalore?"
Nisha couldn't help but smile at his question, her heart fluttering with excitement and fear at the same time. "Aslam," she said simply. "He works there, and we're supposed to move there after the marriage." She watched as Kumar's reflection in the mirror froze, the tension in his jaw the only indication of the turmoil he was feeling.
He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "Nisha, anything for you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll miss you. I'll miss your pussy," he added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
Nisha couldn't help but chuckle, the tension in her chest loosening a bit. "And I will miss my favorite dick," she said, her voice a playful purr that had his cock twitching again. She stood up, her body a vision of curvy beauty as she sashayed over to him. She pressed her body against his, her breasts pushing against his chest as she reached up to kiss him deeply.
The kiss was a mix of passion and sadness, a silent goodbye that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. When she pulled away, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "But it's time for me to go," she murmured against his lips.
Kumar nodded, his hand coming to rest on her lower back, his fingers splayed wide in a silent claim. "When will you be leaving this office?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers down her spine.
Nisha leaned into his embrace, her heart racing with the realization that their time together was running out. "After two months," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. The words hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, counting down the moments she had left to savor this stolen passion.
Kumar's hand slid down to her ass, squeezing it gently. "So, I can fuck you for two months then," he said, his tone a mix of humor and desperation. Nisha couldn't help but smile at his audacity, despite the ache in her chest. She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, to make her feel better about the choice she had to make.
"But today, I have to go home early," she said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to hang in the air between them. The words were a gentle rejection, a reminder that there was a world outside their passionate bubble that she couldn't ignore. Kumar's grip on her tightened for a moment before he released her with a sigh.
Nisha walked out of his office with a sense of finality, the click of her heels on the floor like the ticking of a clock counting down to the end of their secret affair. She made her way to her cubicle, her legs feeling like jelly, her heart racing. She forced a smile as she passed by her colleagues, the mundane chatter of the office a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that churned within her.
Sitting down at her desk, she took a deep breath, her eyes lingering on the framed photo of her and Kumar at the office party last year. It was a reminder of the façade they had maintained so well. She powered on her laptop, the blue light flickering to life in the otherwise dim office. Her team members looked up at her expectantly, their eyes filled with the usual mix of respect and curiosity that she had become accustomed to.
"Listen up, everyone," she announced, her voice steady despite the quaking of her insides. "I'll be leaving early today to deal with some personal matters." She paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the room to ensure she had everyone's attention. "I need you all to keep the momentum going on the project. Don't let anything slide."
Her team nodded in unison, their eyes reflecting a mix of concern and curiosity. They knew better than to question Nisha when she spoke with such resolve. "Make sure the report for the 3 PM meeting is ready," she continued, her voice a clear bell of command. "And remember, quality over quantity. I expect nothing but excellence."
With a final nod, she picked up her laptop and slung her bag over her shoulder. The weight of her decision was palpable, a heavy cloak that seemed to weigh her down with every step she took. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as she walked through the office, the air seeming to thicken around her with each passing moment.
"Remember, no slacking," she called over her shoulder, her tone firm and authoritative. Her team members nodded in understanding, their eyes reflecting a mix of concern and respect. They had seen her like this before, knew that when she was distracted, it was usually for something significant.
With a final glance at the office she had come to think of as a second home, Nisha stepped into the elevator, the doors closing with a soft hiss behind her. Her thoughts swirled like a tornado in her mind, her emotions a tempest that threatened to consume her. The elevator descended, each floor a silent countdown to the reality she had to face.
Once outside, she took a deep breath of the crisp evening air, the scent of rain in the air a stark contrast to the stale office. She made her way to her car, the engine purring to life beneath her as she turned the key. The leather seat was cool against her skin, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the heat outside. As she drove home, the streets of Chennai blurred by in a kaleidoscope of color, she couldn't help but feel a sense of finality, a chapter in her life closing forever.
Nisha's eyes took in the familiar sights of her neighborhood, the brightly lit houses with their open windows revealing snippets of family life within. The sound of a TV playing a Bollywood melodrama floated through the air, mingling with the laughter of children playing in the street. It was a world she knew well, but it felt like a cage compared to the freedom she had just experienced.
As she approached her own house, she took a moment to compose herself. She straightened her clothes, smoothing down her dress and making sure her veil was in place. The scent of her mother's cooking wafted through the air, a mix of spices and aromatic rice that never failed to make her stomach growl. The door was open, as it often was when the family was home, and she slipped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping her.
Her parents were already seated at the dining table, their plates piled high with steaming food. Meera looked up from her plate and beamed at the sight of her daughter. "Nisha, you're just in time!" she exclaimed. "Come, eat with us."
Nisha forced a smile, the taste of Kumar's cum still lingering on her lips. She walked over to the sink, washing her hands before sitting down at the table. Her father, Ashiq, looked up from his newspaper, his stern gaze briefly flickering over her before returning to the headlines. She knew he had no idea of the secret she carried with her, the one that threatened to tear apart the very fabric of their family's honor.
"Nisha, what do you think about Aslam?" Meera's voice was hopeful, her eyes searching Nisha's for any sign of approval. Nisha took a deep breath, her mind racing. How could she put into words the tumult of emotions she felt about the man she was about to marry? How could she explain that she didn't know him, that she had given herself to another, and that she was terrified of the life that lay ahead of her?
But before she could respond, Rahim stepped in, his voice a gentle interjection. "Mom, give her some time," he said, his eyes flicking to Nisha's before returning to their mother's concerned gaze. "Today she's talked with Aslam's parents and seen Aslam's pic. Give her some time to process."
Meera nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, beta," she said, patting Nisha's hand. "You must be tired."
Nisha forced a smile, grateful for the reprieve. She pushed her chair back and stood, the fabric of her salwar whispering against the floor. "Yes, I think I'll go to bed early," she said, her voice a lie that she hoped didn't sound as hollow as it felt.
Her mother nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and hope. "Get some rest, beta," she said, her voice gentle. "You're going to need it."
Nisha made her way to her room, her legs feeling like lead. The weight of the day's events, the tension of the marriage meeting, and the intensity of her encounter with Kumar, it all felt like it was pressing down on her, threatening to crush her. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment, her heart racing.
With trembling hands, she began to strip away her clothes, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. Each layer fell away like a burden being shed, revealing the woman beneath the modest exterior. Her breasts, full and heavy, bounced free of their confines, the nipples still sensitive from Kumar's rough touch. She shimmied out of her salwar, letting it pool at her feet before untying her veil. The fabric slipped away, her hair falling around her shoulders in a dark curtain, a symbol of the secrets she kept hidden from the world.
Her eyes took in her reflection in the full-length mirror, the bruises on her neck and the marks on her skin a stark reminder of her transgressions. Yet, she felt alive, more alive than she had in weeks. Her hand hovered over the marks, tracing the path of Kumar's desire with a gentle touch. The room felt too warm, the air thick with the scent of their lovemaking that lingered on her skin.
With a sigh, Nisha turned away from the mirror, the cold floor tiles a shock against her bare feet. She crossed the room to her bed, the soft mattress beckoning her weary body. She slid in between the cool sheets, the fabric whispering a promise of rest against her skin. Her thoughts drifted to Aslam, the man she had yet to meet but whose name was already etched in her future. Would he be gentle or demanding? Would he expect her to be as unblemished as the bedsheets she now lay upon?
Her hand traveled to her neck, her fingertips tracing the love bites Kumar had left. The pain was faint, but the memory of his teeth on her skin was vivid. It was a stark contrast to the gentle touch she had imagined Aslam would have, a touch she had only read about in her secret stash of romance novels. She wondered if the reality of marriage would ever live up to the passionate tales she had read, or if she was destined for a life of quiet resignation.
With a sigh, she turned off the light, the room plunging into darkness. The silence was a balm to her frayed nerves, a welcome reprieve from the cacophony of expectations that had been her day. She lay down on her bed, the coolness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat still pulsing through her body. Nisha closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but she focused on her breathing, letting it slow and deepen until her thoughts began to blur.
Sleep came, but it was a restless, fitful affair, haunted by dreams of Kumar's touch and the looming specter of her impending marriage. She woke up to the sudden alarm on her phone, jolting upright with a gasp. The digital display read 6:30 AM. She had set it early, knowing that the day ahead would require all her strength and composure. The room was still shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the sliver of moon peeking through the curtains.
With a sigh, Nisha swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded towards the bathroom. She turned on the lights, the stark fluorescence illuminating her tired features. She stared at herself in the mirror, the reflection showing the dark circles under her eyes, a silent testament to her tumultuous thoughts. She reached for her toothpaste, squeezing a dollop onto her toothbrush, and began the mindless task of brushing her teeth, the minty freshness a small comfort in the face of the day ahead.
The sound of the water running filled the small space as she stepped into the shower, the spray hitting her skin with a force that was almost painful. She let the water wash away the sweat and the memories of the night before, the heat of the shower a stark contrast to the cold fear that gripped her heart. She lathered herself with soap, scrubbing away the scent of Kumar, as if by doing so she could erase the very thought of him. The water ran down her body, pooling at her feet, carrying with it the weight of her secret.
As she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her, she heard the knock on her door. Her heart skipped a beat, the fabric tightening around her as she froze in place. Who could it be at this hour? She glanced at the clock—it was still early, the house wrapped in a silent embrace of slumber.
"Nisha, beta, are you okay?" Her mother's voice was soft but firm. "You've been in there a long time. Breakfast is almost ready."
Nisha took a deep breath, steeling herself before she opened the door. Meera's eyes searched hers, a hint of concern etched into the lines around them. "Mom, I'm just getting ready," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I'll be out soon."
Her mother looked at her, her gaze lingering on the towel that barely contained her daughter's ample curves. "Nisha, beta," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You're a grown woman now. You know what people say, what they think. You can't just wander around the house like this."
Nisha felt the heat creep up her neck, her hand tightening on the towel. She knew her mother was right; she had been careless. But the late night with Kumar had left her feeling raw, exposed, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with more scrutiny. "I'm sorry, mom," she mumbled, her eyes darting to the floor. "I'll be more careful."
Meera nodded, her gaze lingering for a moment longer before she turned and left. Nisha let out the breath she had been holding and reached for her clothes, her hand shaking as she dressed herself for the day. She chose a white top that hung loosely over her curves, reaching just past her knees. It was modest, unassuming, the perfect armor for the role she had to play. The jeans she slipped into hugged her hips, but she knew that under her traditional garments, they would be hidden, a secret she could keep even from herself.
The mirror in her room was a silent judge, reflecting the image of a homely, traditional woman. Her makeup was minimal, a few swipes of kajal to accent her eyes, a dab of lip balm to soften her mouth. She wrapped her hair in a simple chunni, the colors of which matched her outfit. As she looked into the mirror, she saw not the woman who had just experienced the height of passion with her lover, but the daughter who had been promised to another. The woman who had to keep her desires and her secrets buried deep beneath layers of tradition and duty.
Nisha took a deep breath, gathering her courage. She picked up her laptop, a lifeline to the outside world that offered her a semblance of control amidst the chaos of her life. It was her sanctuary, a place where she could escape into the arms of Kumar without fear of being caught. As she stepped out of her room, the smell of breakfast filled the air, the sizzle of spices and the aroma of chai a comforting yet jarring reminder of the life she was expected to lead.
Rahim was at the dining table, his plate piled high with eggs and toast, a rare treat before college. He looked up as she approached, his eyes taking in her rumpled clothes and sleep-laden face. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. Nisha nodded, offering a weak smile. "Yeah, just couldn't sleep."
Meera emerged from the kitchen, her hands laden with a plate of parathas, a steaming cup of chai, and a small bowl of curd. She placed the food in front of Nisha, her eyes filled with a silent question. Nisha felt the weight of her mother's gaze but said nothing, picking up her fork and pushing the food around her plate. The silence was deafening, the clink of cutlery echoing in the quiet room.
Her father entered, the newspaper tucked under his arm, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Nisha. "You look tired," he said, his voice gruff. Nisha nodded, taking a sip of the sweet, spiced tea. "I had a lot on my mind."
Ashiq nodded, his gaze lingering on her before he turned to leave. "It's a big decision," he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. "But remember, your mother and I are here for you."
The door clicked shut behind him, and Nisha felt the tension in her shoulders ease. She turned to Rahim, her eyes pleading. "Please, when will you send Aslam's number?" she whispered urgently.
Rahim took a bite of his toast, his gaze meeting hers with a hint of mischief. "Nish, relax," he said with a cheeky grin. "I'll send it to you by this afternoon, I promise." He winked at her, the same way he did when they were kids, and she knew he was telling the truth.
Nisha nodded, her eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. Time was slipping through her fingers like the water in her shower, and she had to get to work. "Mom, it's getting late," she said, her voice a tapestry of urgency and nerves. "I'll go."
Meera's eyes searched hers for a moment before she nodded. "Remember what I said, beta," she murmured, her voice a gentle reminder of the weight of Nisha's decision. "The groom's family will want an answer today."
Nisha nodded, the gravity of her words sinking in. "Ok, I will tell you by evening," she said, her voice firm despite the quaver in her heart. She knew she had to make a choice, one that would affect the rest of her life. But how could she choose when her heart was torn between duty and desire?
The drive to work was a blur, the streets passing by in a haze of early morning traffic. Nisha's thoughts raced faster than the cars around her, each one a question, a doubt, a memory of Kumar's touch. She parked in the office lot, the engine's purr dying down to a soft hum. The building loomed ahead, a bastion of normalcy in a world that felt anything but.
With a deep breath, she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking on the pavement. The cool morning breeze whispered against her skin, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked earth and the promise of a new day. The doors to the office building swung open with a hiss, the chilly air inside a stark contrast to the heat outside. She walked through the lobby, her eyes scanning the faces of her colleagues, but none of them knew her secret.
The elevator's chrome doors reflected the fluorescent lights of the lobby, a mirror to the façade she wore. As they closed, she felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, if only for a moment. The ascent to her office was a silent reprieve, the artificial hum of the elevator the only sound as it climbed floor after floor. Nisha leaned against the cool metal wall, her eyes closed, imagining Kumar's arms around her again, his whispered promises of love and freedom echoing in her ears.
When the doors slid open, she stepped out into the bustling office space, her heels clicking a rhythm of determination across the gleaming floor. The other employees, immersed in their own lives, barely spared her a glance as she made her way to her cubicle, a tiny bastion of privacy in the open-plan layout. She settled into her chair, the leather cool against her still-flushed skin, and booted up her computer. The screen flickered to life, a stark contrast to the darkness of her thoughts.
Her inbox was a minefield of deadlines and demands, each email a reminder of the responsibilities she had outside of her personal tumult. Nisha took a deep breath and began to tackle the day's work, her fingers flying over the keyboard with a speed and precision that had earned her respect in the company. She was good at her job, damn good, and it was one of the few aspects of her life she could control.
As she worked, her mind wandered back to the previous night, the heat of Kumar's body against hers, the way he had made her feel alive. She had to push those thoughts aside, though. She had a team to manage, a career to build. She couldn't let her personal life interfere with her work, not when she had so much riding on her professional success.
Her fingers danced over the keyboard, sending out emails and messages with a speed that belied the chaos in her mind. She had a conference call in an hour, and she needed to be fully present for it. She stood up, her chair rolling back with a faint squeak, and approached one of her team members, Rohan. "I need the quarterly reports by 2 PM," she said, her voice firm despite the tremble in her chest. "Make sure they're detailed and error-free. No excuses."
Rohan looked up from his screen, his eyes widening slightly at the urgency in her tone. "Yes, ma'am," he said, nodding. Nisha knew he was efficient, but she couldn't help but feel a knot of anxiety at the thought of leaving anything to chance. She had built her reputation on her meticulousness and she wasn't about to let a personal crisis threaten it.
As the day progressed, Nisha's thoughts remained scattered, flitting between her impending marriage and the passionate interlude with Kumar. She found solace in the familiar rhythms of work, the steady flow of tasks providing a semblance of normalcy amidst the turmoil. Yet, with every email she sent, every report she reviewed, the anticipation of receiving Aslam's number grew, a persistent throb beneath the surface of her focus.
Finally, the notification chimed on her phone. A message from Rahim, the digital bubble pulsing with the weight of its contents. She paused, her hand hovering over the screen, her heart racing like a wild animal caught in the crosshairs of fate. With trembling fingers, she tapped the message open. There it was, a simple string of digits and a message: "This is Aslam's number. Don't forget our deal. Transfer 5000 Rs. to my account and I'll take your car tomorrow."
Nisha couldn't help but smile, a mix of relief and mirth at her brother's cheekiness. She quickly typed out her response, adding a kiss smiley for good measure: "Thank you my cutie brother ? I'll transfer the money tonight. And you better take good care of my car!" She hit send, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. The die had been cast, and now she waited for the universe to reveal its hand.
Her stomach rumbled, a reminder that she hadn't had breakfast. She decided to use the lull in her work to grab something from the canteen. As she made her way through the office's maze of cubicles, she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone knew her secret. The glances thrown her way seemed to hold a knowing look, a silent question about her night's escapade. But she held her head high, the same way she had done every day, hiding the tumult of her soul beneath the veneer of professionalism.
The canteen was a cacophony of laughter and the clatter of cutlery, the smell of spices mingling with the faint scent of coffee. She picked out a plate of idli sambar, a comforting staple that she hoped would ease her jangling nerves. As she paid for her meal, she felt the weight of Aslam's number in her pocket, a silent companion to her fears.
With her tray in hand, Nisha scanned the room for a private corner, a place to make the call that would irrevocably change her life. She found a spot at the far end of the canteen, a solitary chair tucked away from the prying eyes of her colleagues. She set down her tray and took a deep breath, her hand shaking as she pulled out her phone.
Her thumb hovered over the number, the digits seemingly pulsing with the power to either grant her freedom or entrap her further in the cage of duty. She closed her eyes for a moment, whispering a silent prayer for guidance. Then, with a decisive swipe, she dialed Aslam's number.
The line rang once, twice, and on the third ring, a voice answered, deep and slightly groggy. "Hello?" he said, the word stretching out into the morning quiet of the canteen. Nisha's heart skipped a beat, the sound of his voice sending a tremor through her.
"Hello," she replied, her voice a whisper of nerves and anticipation. "This is Nisha." There was a brief pause, the silence thick with unspoken questions and answers. She could almost hear his mind racing, wondering who this mysterious caller was, and why she was reaching out to him before they had even met in person.
"Nisha," Aslam finally responded, his tone a mix of curiosity and confusion. "How did you get my number? I was under the impression that we should not speak before marriage." His words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the unspoken rules that governed their lives, the expectations that had been set for them by their families and culture.
Nisha took a deep breath, her grip on the phone tightening. "Aslam," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hand. "I know this is unorthodox, but I have to speak with you before we proceed with the engagement. I need to know that we can communicate, that we can share our thoughts and feelings with each other." She paused, giving him a moment to digest her words. "Do you object?"
There was a pause on the line, the silence stretching out like a tightrope she had to navigate. "No, I don't object," Aslam finally said, his voice clear now, the confusion replaced with something closer to curiosity. "It's just that my family prefers that way and told me that you were also in the same thought. I wanted to respect your wishes as well."
Nisha felt a warmth spread through her chest. It was a small gesture, but the fact that he was willing to break from tradition to speak with her was a beacon of hope in a sea of doubt. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the din of the canteen. "But I wanted to talk to you before I say ok," she continued, her voice a little stronger now, the blush on her cheeks deepening.
Aslam's tone softened. "I understand," he said. "What is it that you wish to discuss?" His voice was deep and resonant, and Nisha felt a strange comfort in the sound of it, a stark contrast to the chaos in her mind.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she took the plunge. "I think it's better if we meet," she said, the words slipping out of her mouth like a confession. "I need to see you, to talk to you in person." There was a brief silence, the sound of his breathing a gentle reminder of his presence on the other end of the line.
"Alright," Aslam said, his voice measured. "I'm working in Bangalore, but this weekend I'll be in Chennai. We can meet then."
The mention of Bangalore sent a cold shiver down Nisha's spine. Her thoughts spun faster than the fan above her, the realization hitting her like a sledgehammer. "But... no one told me that," she stuttered, her hand tightening around the phone. "I thought you worked in Chennai."
Aslam's voice took on a slightly apologetic tone. "Yes, I work in Bangalore," he confirmed, the words sinking into her like a lead weight. "But I was hoping that once we marry, you could move there with me." Nisha felt the world tilt around her, the walls of the canteen closing in. Her job, her life here in Chennai, all of it felt so far away, so out of reach. She had worked tirelessly to climb the corporate ladder, to build a life for herself that she could be proud of, and now it all seemed to be slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.
"But what about my work here?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and desperation. "Do you want me to quit?" The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of what they meant—leaving everything she knew and loved behind.
"No, Nisha," Aslam responded, his voice a gentle caress over the line. "You're an engineer at TCS, right? They have offices in Bangalore. You can easily get transferred." Nisha felt a warmth spread through her chest, a sizzling ember of hope amidst the ashes of her fear. He knew about her job, had thought about her career, and was willing to accommodate her. It was more than she had ever dared to hope for in a marriage partner.
"Yeah, I can do that," she said, her voice a whisper of excitement. "But what if they don't transfer me? What if—"
Aslam cut her off with a chuckle, the sound sending a wave of warmth through the cold steel of the phone. "Don't worry," he said, his confidence infectious. "I have some connections. I'll make sure everything is sorted."
Nisha felt the beginnings of a smile tug at her lips. It was strange, talking to a man she had never met, a man she was supposed to marry, about her job and her future. But there was something comforting in his words, something that made her feel seen and heard in a way she hadn't in a long time. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice a tapestry of relief and hope.
The conversation flowed easily, as if they had known each other for years. They talked about their interests, their hopes, their fears. Aslam spoke about his love for photography, the way he liked to capture moments in time that could never be recreated. Nisha listened, her heart swelling with a feeling she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity—a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the confines of their arranged union.
"Nisha," Aslam said, his voice earnest. "I want you to know that I'm not just some guy that your family picked for you. I have my own dreams and aspirations, and I want to share them with you."
Her heart fluttered as she listened, realizing that he had just given her a glimpse into his world. "It's good to talk to you too, Aslam," she replied, the words coming more freely now. "What do you do? What's your job?"
"Nisha, I'm a civil engineer," he said, his voice filled with pride. "I work for a construction company in Bangalore. They pay me well, 2,50,000 Rs a month. It's enough to rent a nice two-bedroom apartment for us. I've already found one, close to the office. It's got a view of the city, and I think you'll love it."
Nisha felt her heart race at the thought of moving to Bangalore with a man she had never met. Yet, his honesty was refreshing, a cool breeze through the stifling confines of her current situation. "I'm an engineer too," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "It's nice to know we'll have that in common."
Aslam chuckled, the sound resonating through the phone. "Yes," he agreed. "It's like we're two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly, even though we didn't know we were looking for each other." His words were sweet, but Nisha couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for her secret affair with Kumar.
"Aslam," she began, her voice a symphony of doubt and hope. "I need to be honest with you too. I... I've never felt this way about someone before. I don't know if it's love, but I know that I can't ignore this connection we have." She held her breath, waiting for his response, her heart racing like a wild horse in her chest.
He was quiet for a moment, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bird's song. Then, he spoke, his voice as gentle as the first light of dawn. "Nisha," he said, "I understand your fears. But I want you to know that I'm willing to take this leap of faith with you. I want to know you, all of you. Your work, your dreams, your fears."
Nisha felt a tear slip down her cheek, unnoticed by the bustling crowd around her. "I'm working in an IT firm as a project team lead," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I've worked hard to get to this position." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the rest of her confession. "My father is strict, my mother is sweet, and my little brother is the one I turn to when I need help." She omitted the details of her college escapades and her current affair with Kumar, the omission a small lie that felt like a boulder on her soul.
Aslam was silent for a beat too long, and she wondered if she had made a mistake, if she had just ruined any chance she had with him. But then, he said, "Nice," and it was the most beautiful word she had ever heard. It was a simple affirmation, a single syllable that carried the weight of understanding and acceptance. It was a promise that he saw her, that he didn't just see the daughter and sister she was expected to be, but the person she truly was.
Nisha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Aslam," she began, her voice a soft crescendo of nerves. "Do you smoke and drink?"
The question hung in the air, a delicate thread of inquiry that she knew could unravel the fabric of their conversation. She needed to know if he could accept her for who she was, flaws and all. The silence on the line was palpable, a heartbeat in the digital ether that seemed to stretch on forever.
And then he spoke, his voice a gentle rumble that reverberated through the speaker. "Honestly, yes, I do smoke. But not excessively," he admitted, the words unfurling like a banner of truth. "It's a habit I picked up in college, and it's something I've been trying to quit."
Nisha laughed, the tension in her chest loosening. "No problem with that," she said, her voice lilting with mirth. "So, I can tell you drink also, right?"
"Occasionally," Aslam confessed, his voice a low rumble of amusement. "But not too much. I like to keep my head clear."
Nisha felt a weight lift from her shoulders. "That's good to know," she said, smiling into the phone. "I'd prefer a partner who's in control of their habits."
They continued to talk, sharing stories of their lives, their hopes, and their dreams. Aslam spoke of his love for cooking, how he liked to experiment with different dishes in his small kitchen in Bangalore, the aromas wafting through the apartment like a warm embrace. Nisha found herself smiling at the thought of sharing meals with him, of learning his favorite recipes and creating new ones together. It was a stark contrast to the passionate but secretive moments she had shared with Kumar, moments that now felt like a distant memory, a fleeting affair in the shadow of the life she was meant to lead.
As the conversation grew deeper, she felt a strange sense of peace. This man, a stranger just minutes ago, was offering her a future filled with understanding and support, a life where she could be both a wife and a professional. Her heart swelled with a feeling she hadn't allowed herself to feel in the chaos of her secret love affair—hope.
"So, Nisha," Aslam said, his voice a gentle caress through the phone line, "what do you say? Will you marry me?"
Nisha's heart skipped a beat, the question echoing in her mind like a gunshot in a quiet room. She had known this moment was coming, had been preparing for it her whole life, but now that it was here, she felt unprepared. Her thoughts raced back to Kumar, to the passionate whispers and stolen kisses in the office park. The guilt of her secret affair weighed on her like a heavy shroud, but she knew that she had to make a choice.
With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. "You will know it from your parents," she said, her voice a delicate balance of coyness and conviction. The words hung in the air, a veiled acceptance wrapped in the respect for tradition that she had been raised to uphold. She heard the soft click as Aslam's breath hitched in surprise, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of regret for the path she was about to set her life on.
Her heart racing, she ended the call, the sudden silence in her ears a stark contrast to the cacophony of the canteen. Nisha looked down at her untouched breakfast, the idli sambar now cold and unappealing. The phone remained in her hand, a digital bridge to a future she wasn't quite ready to embrace fully. She felt the warmth of it against her skin, a silent witness to her conversation.
With a deep breath, she stood up, the legs of the chair scbanging against the tiles. The journey to Kumar's office felt like a pilgrimage, each step carrying her closer to a confession she wasn't sure she was ready to make. The hallways were a blur, her thoughts swirling like a storm in her mind. She had to tell him about Aslam, about the call, about the choice that loomed before her like a fork in the road.
Nisha's hand trembled as she reached out to knock on the door of the office she knew so well. The wood was cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. She heard the muffled sounds of typing, the murmur of his voice on a conference call. She waited, the anticipation building within her like the crescendo of an orchestra before the final note.
Finally, the door swung open, revealing Kumar hunched over his desk, engrossed in his work. He looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. The smile on his face was like a beacon in the storm of her thoughts. "Nisha," he said, his voice a warm caress. "What's up?"
Without a word, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, her eyes locking onto his. The air was thick with the scent of his cologne, the familiarity of it making her heart ache. She took a deep breath and then said it, the words slipping out like a whispered secret. "Remove your pants," she instructed, her voice steady despite the chaos within her.
Kumar's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze flickering down to her hand that was already moving to her knees. Before he could react, she was in front of him, kneeling, her palms pressing into the fabric of his trousers. His voice was a soft protest, "But-"
But Nisha was insistent, her eyes pleading. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, her hands moving with a confidence that belied the tremble in her touch. His uncut dick sprang free, erect and demanding. It was a stark reminder of their illicit connection, a symbol of the passion that had driven them into this clandestine relationship.
Her lips parted, and she took him in her mouth, sucking him fast and hard. The sound of her eager mouth on his skin was muffled by the closed door, but it echoed through Kumar's body like a siren's call, setting his blood on fire. His hand found the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair, urging her on. The taste of him was a heady cocktail of desire and desperation, and she greedily lapped it up, her mind racing with the knowledge that this could be one of their last moments together.
Kumar moaned, his eyes closing in ecstasy as he felt the pressure building in his balls. He could feel the tension coiling tighter with every stroke of her tongue, every suck. The sound of his pleasure was like a symphony to her ears, a sweet melody that sang of their shared passion. She took him deeper, her throat tightening around him, her cheeks hollowing with the effort of keeping him there.
"Nisha," Kumar gasped, his hand tightening in her hair. "I'm about to cum." His voice was a ragged whisper, a desperate plea for release. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and gave a nod, her mouth still full. This was it, the culmination of their secret love, the moment she had feared and craved in equal measure.
With a sudden jolt, she stood up, her breasts bouncing with the urgency of her movements. Before he could protest, she turned and bent over his desk, her hands gripping the edge for support. With a swift movement, she yanked down her jeans, revealing the damp fabric of her panties. "Not yet," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I need a fuck."
Kumar's eyes widened as she positioned herself, her bare ass in the air, the pinkness of her pussy peeking out from the fabric of her underwear. His cock stood at attention, the veins bulging with his need for her. Without another word, she pulled aside her panties and sat back, enveloping his hardness in her wet warmth.
Her pussy was tight around him, the walls clenching as he filled her up. Nisha bit her lower lip to stifle a moan, her eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of Kumar inside her was almost too much to bear, a mix of pain and pleasure that she had grown to crave. She began to bounce up and down, her movements tentative at first but growing more confident with each thrust.
The sound of their flesh slapping filled the room, a rhythmic crescendo that seemed to drown out the rest of the world. She could feel the tension building in her core, the pressure mounting with each bounce. The friction was exquisite, a sweet agony that made her want to scream out his name. But she couldn't, not here, not now. The fear of discovery was a constant companion, a dark shadow that lurked in the corner of her mind, threatening to swallow her whole.
Kumar's grip on her hips tightened as he matched her pace, his breathing growing ragged. Nisha felt his cock swell within her, a prelude to the release she knew was imminent. She leaned back, her breasts brushing against his chest, the friction of their skin a delicious torment that made her want to beg for more.
Her orgasm was a wildfire, consuming her from within. It started as a spark, a flicker of pleasure that grew into a raging inferno that threatened to consume her whole. She moaned Kumar's name, her voice a symphony of passion that seemed to resonate through the very air. Her pussy clenched around his cock, her body shuddering with the force of her climax.
Kumar's grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He could feel his own release building, a volcano about to erupt. And then it did, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. His cum spurted out, painting her thighs with thick white streaks, a visual testament to their shared passion.
Nisha's orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing with pleasure. She could feel his warmth on her skin, a stark contrast to the coldness of the desk against her stomach. It was messy, it was raw, and it was everything she hadn't known she needed. The tension in her body unfurled like a coil spring, leaving her boneless and trembling.
As the aftershocks of their passion subsided, she slowly stood up, her legs wobbly with the intensity of their encounter. Kumar's seed dripped down her thighs, a sticky reminder of their illicit love. She reached for her panties, her hands shaking as she pulled them back into place, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. She tugged her jeans up, the zipper a harsh reminder of the reality that waited outside the office door.
Kumar watched her, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked lost, his eyes searching hers for answers she wasn't ready to give. "Nisha, what happened?" he finally managed to ask, his voice a rough whisper that scbangd against the silence of the room.
Nisha took a shaky breath, her eyes flicking to the floor. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, a silent confession of the tumult in her soul. "I...I had a call with Aslam," she began, her voice a tremulous thread of sound. "He's...he's not what I expected."
Kumar's eyes narrowed, the realization dawning on him like a cold slap in the face. He zipped up his pants, tucking his shirt back into place. The scent of their passion lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the tension that was now thick as fog in the room. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tight with control.
Nisha turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I talked to him," she said, her voice a shaky whisper. "He's...different. He's not just the man my parents have chosen for me."
Kumar's expression grew serious as he took in her words. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate as he pulled his pants back on. "How so?"
Nisha took a deep, shaky breath, her hand wiping away the stray tear that had escaped. "He... he talked to me like a person, not just a future wife. He wants to know about my job, my dreams, my fears." The weight of her confession hung in the air between them, a stark contrast to the passion they had just shared. "He's willing to support my career, and he... he seems genuine."
Kumar's eyes searched hers, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Nisha, that's great," he said, his voice filled with genuine happiness for her. "It's good to know that he's not going to hold you back." He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. "You deserve to be with someone who understands you, who appreciates you for all that you are."
But Nisha couldn't meet his gaze. "He's honest with me," she whispered, her voice a tremulous confession. "But I... I couldn't be honest with him, Kumar. I couldn't tell him about my multiple affairs during college, about the times I've stolen away with you, even now, while you're married."
Kumar's hand stilled on her cheek, his eyes searching hers. "Nisha," he said, his voice firm but gentle, "you're confusing your needs with love. What we have here," he gestured around the office, "this is desire, this is passion. It's not the same as what you'll have with Aslam."
Nisha pulled away from his touch, a frown etching itself into her features. "You're right," she conceded, her voice a tremulous whisper. "But I don't want to lie to him. I can't keep living this double life, hiding who I am." She looked down at her desk, her eyes misting over as she thought of the countless times she had snuck into Kumar's office, the secret glances and stolen kisses that had become the foundation of their illicit love.
Kumar stepped closer, his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her skin in gentle circles. "You don't have to tell him everything," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "But you do have to make a choice." He paused, his eyes searching hers, the unspoken question hanging between them. "Do you love me?"
Nisha swallowed hard, the weight of her words like a boulder on her tongue. "No," she finally whispered, the lie a sour taste in her mouth. "I don't love you, Kumar. I'm here for my lust." She pulled away from his embrace, her eyes meeting his with a steely resolve. "What we have is about passion, not love. It's about filling the void when I'm lonely, when I need something more than what my marriage to Aslam can offer."
Kumar's hands fell to his sides, his eyes searched hers. He knew the truth, the unspoken love that simmered just beneath the surface of their illicit affair. "I understand," he said, his voice a low rumble of regret. "But you're going to marry Aslam." He took a step closer, his hands finding her waist, his thumbs tracing the curve of her hips. "Does he make you feel this way?" He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as his thumbs slipped beneath her Top to squeeze her full breasts.
Nisha's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her body responded to his touch despite her attempt to resist. "It's not just about how he makes me feel," she said, her voice strained. "It's about what I need, what I want."
Kumar leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. "What do you want?" he whispered, his thumbs continuing to tease her sensitive nipples through the fabric of her blouse. "Do you want me to fuck you right here, right now, until you forget about Aslam?" His voice was a siren's song, a tempting melody that threatened to lure her back into the stormy sea of their affair.
But Nisha's resolve was unshaken. She pushed him away, her eyes flashing with a determination that surprised even herself. "My dick manager," she said, her voice a steely whisper that seemed to echo through the room, "only one time allowed in a day, and that's finished." Her words were a slap in the face, a declaration of her newfound strength.
Kumar stepped back, his expression a mix of shock and admiration. He knew Nisha was a woman of passion, but this side of her, this fiery independence, was something new, something exhilarating. He watched as she straightened her clothes, her movements efficient and deliberate.
"Your wife needs a fuck now and then," Nisha said, her voice a teasing purr as she sat across him. The words hung in the air, a challenge and a declaration wrapped in one. She leaned back in the chair, her legs crossed, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Kumar's eyes narrowed, the smugness in her tone like a match to his ego. "What ever," he said, his voice a lazy drawl that belied the fire in his belly. He knew she was playing games, but he also knew that she was right. His wife had needs that he couldn't always fulfill, and he had never denied her the right to seek satisfaction elsewhere. It was an open secret in their marriage, one that had kept their union strong despite its unorthodoxy.
"Now back to the topic," Nisha said, her voice a soft yet firm reminder of the conversation they had been having before passion had overtaken them. She sat back down on the chair, her legs crossed, her eyes on him as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. The room was still thick with the scent of their lovemaking, a heady mix of sweat and desire that clung to the air like a mist.
"I will need you to transfer me to Bangalore," she continued, her tone measured and steady. She watched as he paused, his hand hovering over his tie.
"Bangalore?" Kumar echoed, his voice a mix of surprise and concern. "What's in Bangalore?"
Nisha couldn't help but smile at his question, her heart fluttering with excitement and fear at the same time. "Aslam," she said simply. "He works there, and we're supposed to move there after the marriage." She watched as Kumar's reflection in the mirror froze, the tension in his jaw the only indication of the turmoil he was feeling.
He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "Nisha, anything for you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll miss you. I'll miss your pussy," he added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
Nisha couldn't help but chuckle, the tension in her chest loosening a bit. "And I will miss my favorite dick," she said, her voice a playful purr that had his cock twitching again. She stood up, her body a vision of curvy beauty as she sashayed over to him. She pressed her body against his, her breasts pushing against his chest as she reached up to kiss him deeply.
The kiss was a mix of passion and sadness, a silent goodbye that spoke volumes of their unspoken love. When she pulled away, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "But it's time for me to go," she murmured against his lips.
Kumar nodded, his hand coming to rest on her lower back, his fingers splayed wide in a silent claim. "When will you be leaving this office?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers down her spine.
Nisha leaned into his embrace, her heart racing with the realization that their time together was running out. "After two months," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. The words hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, counting down the moments she had left to savor this stolen passion.
Kumar's hand slid down to her ass, squeezing it gently. "So, I can fuck you for two months then," he said, his tone a mix of humor and desperation. Nisha couldn't help but smile at his audacity, despite the ache in her chest. She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, to make her feel better about the choice she had to make.
"But today, I have to go home early," she said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to hang in the air between them. The words were a gentle rejection, a reminder that there was a world outside their passionate bubble that she couldn't ignore. Kumar's grip on her tightened for a moment before he released her with a sigh.
Nisha walked out of his office with a sense of finality, the click of her heels on the floor like the ticking of a clock counting down to the end of their secret affair. She made her way to her cubicle, her legs feeling like jelly, her heart racing. She forced a smile as she passed by her colleagues, the mundane chatter of the office a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that churned within her.
Sitting down at her desk, she took a deep breath, her eyes lingering on the framed photo of her and Kumar at the office party last year. It was a reminder of the façade they had maintained so well. She powered on her laptop, the blue light flickering to life in the otherwise dim office. Her team members looked up at her expectantly, their eyes filled with the usual mix of respect and curiosity that she had become accustomed to.
"Listen up, everyone," she announced, her voice steady despite the quaking of her insides. "I'll be leaving early today to deal with some personal matters." She paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the room to ensure she had everyone's attention. "I need you all to keep the momentum going on the project. Don't let anything slide."
Her team nodded in unison, their eyes reflecting a mix of concern and curiosity. They knew better than to question Nisha when she spoke with such resolve. "Make sure the report for the 3 PM meeting is ready," she continued, her voice a clear bell of command. "And remember, quality over quantity. I expect nothing but excellence."
With a final nod, she picked up her laptop and slung her bag over her shoulder. The weight of her decision was palpable, a heavy cloak that seemed to weigh her down with every step she took. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as she walked through the office, the air seeming to thicken around her with each passing moment.
"Remember, no slacking," she called over her shoulder, her tone firm and authoritative. Her team members nodded in understanding, their eyes reflecting a mix of concern and respect. They had seen her like this before, knew that when she was distracted, it was usually for something significant.
With a final glance at the office she had come to think of as a second home, Nisha stepped into the elevator, the doors closing with a soft hiss behind her. Her thoughts swirled like a tornado in her mind, her emotions a tempest that threatened to consume her. The elevator descended, each floor a silent countdown to the reality she had to face.
Once outside, she took a deep breath of the crisp evening air, the scent of rain in the air a stark contrast to the stale office. She made her way to her car, the engine purring to life beneath her as she turned the key. The leather seat was cool against her skin, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the heat outside. As she drove home, the streets of Chennai blurred by in a kaleidoscope of color, she couldn't help but feel a sense of finality, a chapter in her life closing forever.
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