23-06-2025, 01:09 AM
Lingering Glances and Lingering Thoughts
The clink of bowls and the rush of water filled the kitchen, softened by the distant hum of rain.
Varnika was humming something tuneless again, some quiet, wandering melody that felt like it had no beginning or end.
Just like her. Unpredictable. Barely there, and impossible to ignore.
Abhi stayed on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm resting along the backrest.
He wasn’t tired, but something about this hour made everything feel slower. Dimmer. Or maybe just more alive in its stillness.
The apartment held a kind of golden hush, the kind that settles in just before evening arrives, with the soft light filtering through rain-dappled curtains.
And somewhere past the shelves and tiled corners, she moved. Heard, not seen. Felt.
Then she reappeared.
Still in that same pink kurti, the one with the deceptively modest sleeves and the neckline that dipped just enough to make you wonder if she noticed.
The fabric clung slightly where it was still damp from earlier, hinting at the warmth beneath.
Her hair was loose now, a few strands sticking to her cheek in a way that made him want to brush them back.
Not to be helpful.
Just to touch her.
She leaned against the wall, half-turned toward the light, towel in hand.
The hem of her kurti brushed the tops of her knees, revealing a glimpse of smooth skin before giving way to leggings she’d pushed up halfway
Careless.
Maybe. Or not.
Abhi looked up and didn’t look away.
Her eyes caught his.
She didn’t smile right away.
Just tilted her head.
The clink of bowls and the rush of water filled the kitchen, softened by the distant hum of rain.
Varnika was humming something tuneless again, some quiet, wandering melody that felt like it had no beginning or end.
Just like her. Unpredictable. Barely there, and impossible to ignore.
Abhi stayed on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm resting along the backrest.
He wasn’t tired, but something about this hour made everything feel slower. Dimmer. Or maybe just more alive in its stillness.
The apartment held a kind of golden hush, the kind that settles in just before evening arrives, with the soft light filtering through rain-dappled curtains.
And somewhere past the shelves and tiled corners, she moved. Heard, not seen. Felt.
Then she reappeared.
Still in that same pink kurti, the one with the deceptively modest sleeves and the neckline that dipped just enough to make you wonder if she noticed.
The fabric clung slightly where it was still damp from earlier, hinting at the warmth beneath.
Her hair was loose now, a few strands sticking to her cheek in a way that made him want to brush them back.
Not to be helpful.
Just to touch her.
She leaned against the wall, half-turned toward the light, towel in hand.
The hem of her kurti brushed the tops of her knees, revealing a glimpse of smooth skin before giving way to leggings she’d pushed up halfway
Careless.
Maybe. Or not.
Abhi looked up and didn’t look away.
Her eyes caught his.
She didn’t smile right away.
Just tilted her head.
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