22-06-2025, 09:56 PM
Part 2: Gentle Ripples
The tuition session had ended just after sunset. The staff room lights cast a warm, flickering glow, and the college corridors were mostly deserted. Swathi stood by the window, sipping chai from a paper cup, her saree slightly creased from the long day, hair pinned but a few strands teasing her cheek in the humid breeze.
She didn’t hear Rahul come in until he spoke.
"Working overtime, Professor Swathi?" he teased, walking in with that familiar smirk. He was in rolled-up sleeves, loosened collar, his satchel slung over one shoulder — charmingly disheveled.
Swathi smiled over her shoulder. "Trying to make saints out of sinners. Your favorite trio—Sai, Ajay, and Aditya—wanted extra help."
Rahul raised an eyebrow, half-joking. “They’re still hanging around you? Bold, aren’t they?”
She laughed, brushing back her hair. “They’re just kids. Naughty, yes, but mostly harmless.”
“Still,” he said, walking closer, “they talk about you. A lot.”
“Oh?” she said, with a playful glint in her eye. “And what exactly do they say?”
Rahul shrugged. “That you’re too nice. Too pretty. That you wear your sarees… unfairly well.” His tone was light, teasing, but his gaze lingered — perhaps too long — on the outline of her hips as she leaned against the table.
Swathi tilted her head. “And what do you think?”
Rahul stepped in closer, his hand brushing hers as he reached for her chai cup. “I think they’re lucky to sit across from you every day. I’d be nervous if I were 21 again.”
“You mean you’re not nervous now?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “No, but sometimes… a little jealous.”
Swathi’s smile softened. She reached up and adjusted his collar. “There’s nothing to be jealous about, Rahul. They’re just enjoying the illusion. I know the difference.”
He looked at her for a moment, searching her face. “They’re not troubling you, though? If they are, I can—”
“No,” she interrupted gently. “They flirt. They test limits. But I’m in control. They need someone to put them in line without crushing their spirit. I know how to play that role.”
Rahul nodded, trusting her words but still chewing on the thought. “Okay. Just keep your guard up. Boys that age confuse curiosity with opportunity.”
She leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet when you pretend to be protective.”
“I’m always protective,” he said, mock-serious. “Especially when they stare like hungry puppies.”
They both laughed, and the moment eased into comfort again. As they walked out of the building together, Swathi glanced back toward the staff room once more. For just a second, she thought she saw movement behind the curtain — like someone hadn’t left yet.
She said nothing.
Part 3: The Late Session
It was a Thursday evening when Sai messaged her on the college portal.
Ma'am, I'm stuck on the analysis part of today's topic. Can I come by for just a short discussion? I'm near the campus anyway."
Swathi hesitated for a moment. It was nearly 6:45 p.m., and the halls would be all but empty. Still… she appreciated when students took initiative. She replied with a simple: Alright. Staff room. 7 p.m. Be quick.
By the time Sai knocked on the door, the corridor lights were flickering in night mode — dim, spaced, and shadowy. Swathi was still seated at her desk, finishing a paper review. She’d changed into a softer cotton saree that day — pale peach with delicate threadwork. Her glasses were on, hair up in a messy twist. The kind of look that made her students stare longer than they should.
Sai stepped in, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Evening, Ma’am.”
“Come in,” she said, not looking up. “Leave the door open.”
He obeyed but left it just slightly ajar — a small crack between public and private.
Swathi gestured to the chair opposite her. “So, what’s the doubt?”
Sai pulled up the chair, unzipped his bag. He smelled faintly of aftershave and worn-out deodorant — a mix of boyish effort and end-of-day sweat. She noticed, without meaning to. He sat a little too comfortably for a student — back slightly slouched, knees apart. Relaxed. Confident.
He handed her his notes, brushing her fingers lightly — more than he needed to.
Swathi looked up. His gaze didn’t flinch.
“You seem too relaxed for someone who’s struggling,” she said, voice light but firm.
He grinned. “Maybe I just like the company.”
She didn’t smile back — not this time. Just held his gaze for a long moment before turning to his notebook. “That charm won’t help you pass.”
“But your tuitions might,” he replied. “You’re... a good teacher.”
There was a slight pause. The kind that held more than silence.
“Keep your focus on the topic, Sai,” she said quietly. “Or I’ll make sure this is your last one-on-one.”
He smirked, not apologetic. But he leaned forward now, properly. “Okay. Sorry, Ma’am.”
Swathi began explaining the concept — her voice low, measured, authoritative. Her hand moved over the paper, her bangles clinking softly. Sai watched, not just listening, but watching. The way her saree wrapped tightly around her waist. The little shimmer of skin where her blouse rode up as she shifted. The tiny mole on her collarbone.
At one point, she reached across to write in his notebook. He didn’t move his hand. She paused, glanced at him, and he slowly moved it aside — but with a grin.
“You're doing that on purpose,” she said under her breath.
“Doing what?” he asked, voice dipped lower.
She sat up straight, adjusting the pallu of her saree deliberately across her chest. “Playing games.”
Sai leaned back, folding his arms. “And if I am?”
She gave him a long, cool look. Her lips curled slightly — not a smile, not quite. “Then I’ll win.”
The tension between them hung for a moment — quiet, thick, electric.
Outside the room, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Someone passed by. They both looked toward the door, still slightly ajar. Sai’s eyes lingered a bit longer.
“I should go,” he said finally.
Swathi nodded. “Yes, you should.”
He stood, slowly. “Thank you for the lesson, Ma’am.”
“Be early next time.”
As he reached the door, she added — without looking at him — “And Sai?”
He turned.
“Try not to confuse curiosity with courage.”
His smile faded just a little, and he left.
Swathi sat back in her chair, exhaling quietly. Her pulse had quickened — not out of fear, not guilt… but something else.
The tuition session had ended just after sunset. The staff room lights cast a warm, flickering glow, and the college corridors were mostly deserted. Swathi stood by the window, sipping chai from a paper cup, her saree slightly creased from the long day, hair pinned but a few strands teasing her cheek in the humid breeze.
She didn’t hear Rahul come in until he spoke.
"Working overtime, Professor Swathi?" he teased, walking in with that familiar smirk. He was in rolled-up sleeves, loosened collar, his satchel slung over one shoulder — charmingly disheveled.
Swathi smiled over her shoulder. "Trying to make saints out of sinners. Your favorite trio—Sai, Ajay, and Aditya—wanted extra help."
Rahul raised an eyebrow, half-joking. “They’re still hanging around you? Bold, aren’t they?”
She laughed, brushing back her hair. “They’re just kids. Naughty, yes, but mostly harmless.”
“Still,” he said, walking closer, “they talk about you. A lot.”
“Oh?” she said, with a playful glint in her eye. “And what exactly do they say?”
Rahul shrugged. “That you’re too nice. Too pretty. That you wear your sarees… unfairly well.” His tone was light, teasing, but his gaze lingered — perhaps too long — on the outline of her hips as she leaned against the table.
Swathi tilted her head. “And what do you think?”
Rahul stepped in closer, his hand brushing hers as he reached for her chai cup. “I think they’re lucky to sit across from you every day. I’d be nervous if I were 21 again.”
“You mean you’re not nervous now?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “No, but sometimes… a little jealous.”
Swathi’s smile softened. She reached up and adjusted his collar. “There’s nothing to be jealous about, Rahul. They’re just enjoying the illusion. I know the difference.”
He looked at her for a moment, searching her face. “They’re not troubling you, though? If they are, I can—”
“No,” she interrupted gently. “They flirt. They test limits. But I’m in control. They need someone to put them in line without crushing their spirit. I know how to play that role.”
Rahul nodded, trusting her words but still chewing on the thought. “Okay. Just keep your guard up. Boys that age confuse curiosity with opportunity.”
She leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet when you pretend to be protective.”
“I’m always protective,” he said, mock-serious. “Especially when they stare like hungry puppies.”
They both laughed, and the moment eased into comfort again. As they walked out of the building together, Swathi glanced back toward the staff room once more. For just a second, she thought she saw movement behind the curtain — like someone hadn’t left yet.
She said nothing.
Part 3: The Late Session
It was a Thursday evening when Sai messaged her on the college portal.
Ma'am, I'm stuck on the analysis part of today's topic. Can I come by for just a short discussion? I'm near the campus anyway."
Swathi hesitated for a moment. It was nearly 6:45 p.m., and the halls would be all but empty. Still… she appreciated when students took initiative. She replied with a simple: Alright. Staff room. 7 p.m. Be quick.
By the time Sai knocked on the door, the corridor lights were flickering in night mode — dim, spaced, and shadowy. Swathi was still seated at her desk, finishing a paper review. She’d changed into a softer cotton saree that day — pale peach with delicate threadwork. Her glasses were on, hair up in a messy twist. The kind of look that made her students stare longer than they should.
Sai stepped in, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Evening, Ma’am.”
“Come in,” she said, not looking up. “Leave the door open.”
He obeyed but left it just slightly ajar — a small crack between public and private.
Swathi gestured to the chair opposite her. “So, what’s the doubt?”
Sai pulled up the chair, unzipped his bag. He smelled faintly of aftershave and worn-out deodorant — a mix of boyish effort and end-of-day sweat. She noticed, without meaning to. He sat a little too comfortably for a student — back slightly slouched, knees apart. Relaxed. Confident.
He handed her his notes, brushing her fingers lightly — more than he needed to.
Swathi looked up. His gaze didn’t flinch.
“You seem too relaxed for someone who’s struggling,” she said, voice light but firm.
He grinned. “Maybe I just like the company.”
She didn’t smile back — not this time. Just held his gaze for a long moment before turning to his notebook. “That charm won’t help you pass.”
“But your tuitions might,” he replied. “You’re... a good teacher.”
There was a slight pause. The kind that held more than silence.
“Keep your focus on the topic, Sai,” she said quietly. “Or I’ll make sure this is your last one-on-one.”
He smirked, not apologetic. But he leaned forward now, properly. “Okay. Sorry, Ma’am.”
Swathi began explaining the concept — her voice low, measured, authoritative. Her hand moved over the paper, her bangles clinking softly. Sai watched, not just listening, but watching. The way her saree wrapped tightly around her waist. The little shimmer of skin where her blouse rode up as she shifted. The tiny mole on her collarbone.
At one point, she reached across to write in his notebook. He didn’t move his hand. She paused, glanced at him, and he slowly moved it aside — but with a grin.
“You're doing that on purpose,” she said under her breath.
“Doing what?” he asked, voice dipped lower.
She sat up straight, adjusting the pallu of her saree deliberately across her chest. “Playing games.”
Sai leaned back, folding his arms. “And if I am?”
She gave him a long, cool look. Her lips curled slightly — not a smile, not quite. “Then I’ll win.”
The tension between them hung for a moment — quiet, thick, electric.
Outside the room, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Someone passed by. They both looked toward the door, still slightly ajar. Sai’s eyes lingered a bit longer.
“I should go,” he said finally.
Swathi nodded. “Yes, you should.”
He stood, slowly. “Thank you for the lesson, Ma’am.”
“Be early next time.”
As he reached the door, she added — without looking at him — “And Sai?”
He turned.
“Try not to confuse curiosity with courage.”
His smile faded just a little, and he left.
Swathi sat back in her chair, exhaling quietly. Her pulse had quickened — not out of fear, not guilt… but something else.
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