12-06-2025, 11:07 AM
The Stairwell With Meghana
The stairwell in their apartment complex was quiet in the late morning hours—sunlight pouring in from the grilled openings on each landing, painting golden patterns on the walls. Most residents were at work or inside their flats. Abhi was heading down with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, phone in hand, headphones dangling from his neck.
As he turned the curve of the stairs between the second and first floors, he heard the rhythmic tap tap of feet.
Someone was coming up.
And then he saw her.
Meghana.
She was dressed in dark purple gym tights that clung to her legs like a second skin and a fitted black racerback tank top, soaked at the edges with sweat. A white towel was looped around her neck, and her long ponytail bounced behind her with every step.
Her face glowed—not the gentle shine of makeup, but the raw flush of a good workout. Her fair golden skin shimmered slightly under the sun, especially around her shoulders and collarbone. Beads of sweat trickled down from her neck, disappearing into the deep curve of her chest.
They nearly bumped into each other at the narrow landing.
“Oh!” she said, stopping mid-step, slightly breathless. “You scared me.”
Abhi stepped back quickly. “Sorry—I didn’t expect anyone here.”
She laughed, brushing back a damp strand of hair. “I take the stairs to the terrace. Better than that stuffy gym downstairs.”
He nodded, trying not to stare—but the way her clothes clung to her every curve made it impossible to look away entirely. Her hips were wide and round, waist snug, and her chest firm, full, and bouncing slightly with each breath.
“I’ve seen you around,” she said casually, pulling the towel to wipe her forehead. “You live on the third, right?”
“Yeah. Just moved in a few weeks back. I’m Abhi.”
“Meghana. Fifth floor.” She offered her hand without hesitation.
He shook it. Her palm was warm, slightly damp, and confident. She held his hand a second longer than necessary.
“You work out?” she asked, scanning him from top to bottom in an obvious way.
“Sometimes,” he replied.
“You should,” she smiled. “Tall guys like you look good with definition.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. She knew what she was doing—her voice was teasing, her smile lopsided, her body language relaxed and completely unapologetic.
Meghana wasn’t like Shravya. There was no childhood memory or cousinly tension. Meghana was bold. Sharp. She looked at him like a woman, not a sister or friend.
She noticed his silence and smirked.
“You heading out?” she asked.
“Yeah, to office.”
“Hmm. Software?”
He nodded.
“Figures,” she chuckled. “All of you carry the same expressions. Sleep-deprived, half-distracted, too shy to flirt.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I’m not shy.”
She leaned in, just enough for him to catch the warm scent of her body—musky, citrusy, and feminine.
“We’ll see,” she whispered.
And just like that, she brushed past him on the narrow stair, her hips lightly grazing his thigh as she ascended. He turned, involuntarily watching her from behind—the way her tight leggings molded around her full, jiggling buttocks, the strong yet soft movement of her legs, and the sweat that glistened at the base of her back.
“Bye, neighbor,” she called over her shoulder without turning. “Try the stairs sometime.”
He stood there for a moment longer, heart hammering, blood rushing.
This apartment complex was starting to feel more interesting by the day.
The stairwell in their apartment complex was quiet in the late morning hours—sunlight pouring in from the grilled openings on each landing, painting golden patterns on the walls. Most residents were at work or inside their flats. Abhi was heading down with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, phone in hand, headphones dangling from his neck.
As he turned the curve of the stairs between the second and first floors, he heard the rhythmic tap tap of feet.
Someone was coming up.
And then he saw her.
Meghana.
She was dressed in dark purple gym tights that clung to her legs like a second skin and a fitted black racerback tank top, soaked at the edges with sweat. A white towel was looped around her neck, and her long ponytail bounced behind her with every step.
Her face glowed—not the gentle shine of makeup, but the raw flush of a good workout. Her fair golden skin shimmered slightly under the sun, especially around her shoulders and collarbone. Beads of sweat trickled down from her neck, disappearing into the deep curve of her chest.
They nearly bumped into each other at the narrow landing.
“Oh!” she said, stopping mid-step, slightly breathless. “You scared me.”
Abhi stepped back quickly. “Sorry—I didn’t expect anyone here.”
She laughed, brushing back a damp strand of hair. “I take the stairs to the terrace. Better than that stuffy gym downstairs.”
He nodded, trying not to stare—but the way her clothes clung to her every curve made it impossible to look away entirely. Her hips were wide and round, waist snug, and her chest firm, full, and bouncing slightly with each breath.
“I’ve seen you around,” she said casually, pulling the towel to wipe her forehead. “You live on the third, right?”
“Yeah. Just moved in a few weeks back. I’m Abhi.”
“Meghana. Fifth floor.” She offered her hand without hesitation.
He shook it. Her palm was warm, slightly damp, and confident. She held his hand a second longer than necessary.
“You work out?” she asked, scanning him from top to bottom in an obvious way.
“Sometimes,” he replied.
“You should,” she smiled. “Tall guys like you look good with definition.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. She knew what she was doing—her voice was teasing, her smile lopsided, her body language relaxed and completely unapologetic.
Meghana wasn’t like Shravya. There was no childhood memory or cousinly tension. Meghana was bold. Sharp. She looked at him like a woman, not a sister or friend.
She noticed his silence and smirked.
“You heading out?” she asked.
“Yeah, to office.”
“Hmm. Software?”
He nodded.
“Figures,” she chuckled. “All of you carry the same expressions. Sleep-deprived, half-distracted, too shy to flirt.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I’m not shy.”
She leaned in, just enough for him to catch the warm scent of her body—musky, citrusy, and feminine.
“We’ll see,” she whispered.
And just like that, she brushed past him on the narrow stair, her hips lightly grazing his thigh as she ascended. He turned, involuntarily watching her from behind—the way her tight leggings molded around her full, jiggling buttocks, the strong yet soft movement of her legs, and the sweat that glistened at the base of her back.
“Bye, neighbor,” she called over her shoulder without turning. “Try the stairs sometime.”
He stood there for a moment longer, heart hammering, blood rushing.
This apartment complex was starting to feel more interesting by the day.
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