01-05-2025, 06:51 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-05-2025, 06:53 AM by shamson9571. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Episode 36: After She Passed
Even after she disappeared around the corner, Meera’s presence lingered in the corridor like the last notes of a song.
Arjun didn’t move.
His hands rested loosely on the notebook he hadn’t read in ten minutes. His feet were heavy, heart still thudding in his chest.
No one else seemed affected.
But he felt undone.
Like he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to—something sacred.
She hadn’t looked at him.
Hadn’t even noticed him standing there.
And yet, it felt like she’d taken something from him as she walked past—some sliver of calm, some part of him he didn’t know was exposed until it was gone.
---
In Class – But Not Really
Back in the classroom, Arjun sat stiffly at his desk.
The teacher droned at the board. Pens scratched across pages. A fan buzzed overhead.
But all he could think about was the way Meera’s saree had moved.
The way the fabric clung gently at her waist, the way her hair fell loose, the faint shimmer of the gold threads woven into the maroon silk.
His fingers curled into his palm, tight.
He wasn’t thinking in words anymore.
He was caught in images.
Feelings.
Heat.
> How can she just walk around like that?
Does she even know what she looks like?
And then the worse thought:
> Does someone else get to see her like that more often?
He hated the thought as soon as it came.
But it didn’t leave.
---
Later – A Glance From Afar
After classes ended, Arjun didn’t go straight home.
He lingered again—near the open window that faced the teacher’s parking lot.
He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.
But when Meera appeared, walking slowly to the gate, silk saree still glowing in the last light of the afternoon, he knew.
He just wanted to see her again.
Even from a distance.
Even without being seen.
It was like watching something from another world.
Untouchable. Beautiful. Cruel without meaning to be.
---
Inside Arjun’s Head
He didn’t sleep much that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her waist, the curve of it framed by silk.
The way the pallu shifted as she moved.
The soft line of her shoulder under loose hair.
He didn’t know what was happening to him anymore.
It wasn’t just a crush.
It wasn’t just a dream.
It was becoming something heavier, something he carried through every hour.
Something she didn’t even know she gave him.
And maybe…
that was what made it all so impossible to escape.
---
Earlier That Afternoon – In the Staff Room
The ceiling fan creaked above them as the late-afternoon sun streaked across the floor in long amber bands.
Meera sat down at her usual desk, unpinning her hair with a small sigh, letting it fall more freely down her back. She was clearly tired—but glowing in a way that came from outside the classroom.
Priya, already at her desk, looked up and stilled for a second.
“Wow,” she said with a smile, half teasing, half genuine.
“You walk in here like a festival just entered the building.”
Meera glanced at her. “Oh stop.”
“I’m serious,” Priya grinned. “That silk saree, the kajal, the bangles—it’s too much for a Monday. You look... dangerous.”
Meera rolled her eyes, cheeks warming. “I had to attend a pooja at my cousin’s house this morning. My aunt basically forced this onto me,” she said, glancing down at the maroon and gold silk.
“And she wouldn’t let me leave without the full look—hair, bangles, everything.”
Priya leaned forward, mock serious.
“Well, thank your aunt from me. You’re setting standards we can’t keep up with.”
Then, with a playful smirk, she added,
“You really think boys are going to sleep peacefully after seeing you walk through the college like this?”
Meera laughed, soft and embarrassed. “What nonsense.”
Priya leaned in a little more.
“With that saree wrapped like that? Your waist is doing half the talking.”
And then—teasing, deliberate—she ran her hand lightly across Meera’s bare waist, tracing the curve just above the pleats.
Her fingers lingered, appreciating.
“This silk doesn’t just suit you,” she said quietly, almost like a secret.
“It worships you.”
Meera blushed.
The words, the touch, the tone—it caught her off guard.
Her smile faltered for a beat, and she glanced down shyly, brushing her hair over one shoulder.
But she didn’t move away.
Didn’t say a word.
She just sat there, heat blooming under her skin, while Priya leaned back with a small, knowing smile.
The air between them held something unspoken—but neither of them tried to name it.
---
Later That Night – In Meera’s Room
The day had been long.
The pooja. The heat. The stares. The teasing. The silence.
Meera stood in front of her mirror, unwinding the pleats of her silk saree, letting the fabric slide slowly from her shoulder and pool at her feet.
She paused before reaching for her blouse hook.
Her eyes scanned her reflection—not in a rush, not with criticism.
She took in the curve of her waist, the faint mark the saree had left on her skin, the softness of her arms, the way her hair fell loosely around her collarbone.
Priya’s words echoed quietly in the back of her mind.
> "This silk doesn’t just suit you—it worships you."
Meera smiled, faint and private.
Not because she believed it fully.
But because—for once—she didn’t completely dismiss it either.
She touched her waist lightly where Priya’s fingers had been hours earlier, still surprised by how natural the moment had felt.
And for the first time in a long time, she let herself feel something close to pride.
Not in vanity.
But in presence.
In the quiet power of being seen—and of letting herself see it too.
She let out a slow breath and reached for her nightwear.
Tomorrow would be ordinary again.
But tonight, she didn’t mind being beautiful.
Even if only for herself.
---
To be continued…
Even after she disappeared around the corner, Meera’s presence lingered in the corridor like the last notes of a song.
Arjun didn’t move.
His hands rested loosely on the notebook he hadn’t read in ten minutes. His feet were heavy, heart still thudding in his chest.
No one else seemed affected.
But he felt undone.
Like he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to—something sacred.
She hadn’t looked at him.
Hadn’t even noticed him standing there.
And yet, it felt like she’d taken something from him as she walked past—some sliver of calm, some part of him he didn’t know was exposed until it was gone.
---
In Class – But Not Really
Back in the classroom, Arjun sat stiffly at his desk.
The teacher droned at the board. Pens scratched across pages. A fan buzzed overhead.
But all he could think about was the way Meera’s saree had moved.
The way the fabric clung gently at her waist, the way her hair fell loose, the faint shimmer of the gold threads woven into the maroon silk.
His fingers curled into his palm, tight.
He wasn’t thinking in words anymore.
He was caught in images.
Feelings.
Heat.
> How can she just walk around like that?
Does she even know what she looks like?
And then the worse thought:
> Does someone else get to see her like that more often?
He hated the thought as soon as it came.
But it didn’t leave.
---
Later – A Glance From Afar
After classes ended, Arjun didn’t go straight home.
He lingered again—near the open window that faced the teacher’s parking lot.
He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.
But when Meera appeared, walking slowly to the gate, silk saree still glowing in the last light of the afternoon, he knew.
He just wanted to see her again.
Even from a distance.
Even without being seen.
It was like watching something from another world.
Untouchable. Beautiful. Cruel without meaning to be.
---
Inside Arjun’s Head
He didn’t sleep much that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her waist, the curve of it framed by silk.
The way the pallu shifted as she moved.
The soft line of her shoulder under loose hair.
He didn’t know what was happening to him anymore.
It wasn’t just a crush.
It wasn’t just a dream.
It was becoming something heavier, something he carried through every hour.
Something she didn’t even know she gave him.
And maybe…
that was what made it all so impossible to escape.
---
Earlier That Afternoon – In the Staff Room
The ceiling fan creaked above them as the late-afternoon sun streaked across the floor in long amber bands.
Meera sat down at her usual desk, unpinning her hair with a small sigh, letting it fall more freely down her back. She was clearly tired—but glowing in a way that came from outside the classroom.
Priya, already at her desk, looked up and stilled for a second.
“Wow,” she said with a smile, half teasing, half genuine.
“You walk in here like a festival just entered the building.”
Meera glanced at her. “Oh stop.”
“I’m serious,” Priya grinned. “That silk saree, the kajal, the bangles—it’s too much for a Monday. You look... dangerous.”
Meera rolled her eyes, cheeks warming. “I had to attend a pooja at my cousin’s house this morning. My aunt basically forced this onto me,” she said, glancing down at the maroon and gold silk.
“And she wouldn’t let me leave without the full look—hair, bangles, everything.”
Priya leaned forward, mock serious.
“Well, thank your aunt from me. You’re setting standards we can’t keep up with.”
Then, with a playful smirk, she added,
“You really think boys are going to sleep peacefully after seeing you walk through the college like this?”
Meera laughed, soft and embarrassed. “What nonsense.”
Priya leaned in a little more.
“With that saree wrapped like that? Your waist is doing half the talking.”
And then—teasing, deliberate—she ran her hand lightly across Meera’s bare waist, tracing the curve just above the pleats.
Her fingers lingered, appreciating.
“This silk doesn’t just suit you,” she said quietly, almost like a secret.
“It worships you.”
Meera blushed.
The words, the touch, the tone—it caught her off guard.
Her smile faltered for a beat, and she glanced down shyly, brushing her hair over one shoulder.
But she didn’t move away.
Didn’t say a word.
She just sat there, heat blooming under her skin, while Priya leaned back with a small, knowing smile.
The air between them held something unspoken—but neither of them tried to name it.
---
Later That Night – In Meera’s Room
The day had been long.
The pooja. The heat. The stares. The teasing. The silence.
Meera stood in front of her mirror, unwinding the pleats of her silk saree, letting the fabric slide slowly from her shoulder and pool at her feet.
She paused before reaching for her blouse hook.
Her eyes scanned her reflection—not in a rush, not with criticism.
She took in the curve of her waist, the faint mark the saree had left on her skin, the softness of her arms, the way her hair fell loosely around her collarbone.
Priya’s words echoed quietly in the back of her mind.
> "This silk doesn’t just suit you—it worships you."
Meera smiled, faint and private.
Not because she believed it fully.
But because—for once—she didn’t completely dismiss it either.
She touched her waist lightly where Priya’s fingers had been hours earlier, still surprised by how natural the moment had felt.
And for the first time in a long time, she let herself feel something close to pride.
Not in vanity.
But in presence.
In the quiet power of being seen—and of letting herself see it too.
She let out a slow breath and reached for her nightwear.
Tomorrow would be ordinary again.
But tonight, she didn’t mind being beautiful.
Even if only for herself.
---
To be continued…
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)