Adultery Nivetha (Nivi) - Power and Submissions of working wife (03 Oct 2025 - Chapter 100)
#3
Chapter 3: Playing with Fire

The morning sun filtered through the office windows, casting long shadows across Nivi’s desk as she sorted through a stack of invoices. 

Her blue kurti hugged her frame comfortably, the fabric soft against her skin in Coimbatore’s sticky heat. The office was quieter today, the usual hum of keyboards punctuated by the occasional honk from the street below, where vendors hawked fresh coconuts and roasted peanuts. 

Three days back, and Nivi was settling into the rhythm—emails, spreadsheets, the familiar clink of teaspoons at the tea station. But there was a buzz in her chest, a small thrill from being part of this world again, where she wasn’t just a mom juggling college schedules or a wife ignored over whiskey glasses.

At the tea station mid-morning, the gang was already gathered, their voices carrying over the hiss of the kettle. Ashwin leaned against the counter, his shirt sleeves rolled up, animatedly describing a traffic jam he’d dodged on his bike. 

“Swear, I thought I’d be late forever—auto driver was singing at the top of his lungs!” he said, laughing.

Dinesh smirked, stirring his chai. “You should’ve joined him, Ashwin. Your voice is worse than a horn.”

Ashok, sipping his tea quietly, gave a small smile, his eyes flicking up as Nivi approached. “Morning,” she said, grabbing a tumbler and pouring herself a steaming cup. The scent of cardamom hit her, grounding her in the moment.

“Morning, spreadsheet queen!” Ashwin grinned, tossing her a biscuit from the tin. “You’re making us look bad with how fast you’re catching up.”

She caught the biscuit, laughing. “Someone’s got to keep you in line.” The banter felt easy, like slipping back into an old friendship. 

They swapped stories—Dinesh about his wife’s latest craving for jackfruit, Ashok admitting he’d lost another online chess match. But as Nivi reached for the sugar, her dupatta slipped slightly, catching on the counter’s edge and tugging her kurti up to flash a sliver of her waist. 

She adjusted it quickly, but not before Dinesh’s eyes flicked down, then away, his smirk faltering for a split second. Did he notice? she wondered, a tiny spark of curiosity flickering. 

No one said anything, and the chatter rolled on, but the moment lingered in her mind.

By noon, the gang was restless. “Canteen food’s getting old,” Ashwin declared, tossing a pen in the air. “Nivi, you’re back—let’s celebrate properly. There’s a new dosa joint down by the market. Team lunch, your treat for rejoining the chaos!”


Dinesh clapped. “Yeah, let’s get out of this fluorescent prison. Masala dosas on you.”

Ashok nodded, his voice soft. “Sounds nice.”

Nivi hesitated, then smiled. “Fine, but only if you stop calling me spreadsheet queen.” The idea of escaping the office, even for an hour, felt like a small adventure. 

They piled into Ashwin’s beat-up Maruti, the car smelling faintly of petrol and sandalwood air freshener. The streets of Coimbatore buzzed outside—cycles weaving between autos, the air thick with the sizzle of street-side bhajjis and the chatter of vendors. 

At the eatery, a small open-air spot with plastic chairs under a tin roof, they squeezed around a table, the smell of ghee and chutney wrapping them in warmth.

They ordered crispy dosas and filter coffee, the waiter balancing steel plates with practiced ease. Ashwin launched into a story about a client who’d sent a spreadsheet full of emojis, making Nivi laugh so hard she nearly spilled her coffee. 

“You should’ve seen Raghavan’s face—thought he’d fire the guy on the spot,” he said, mimicking their boss’s stern frown.

Dinesh leaned forward, grinning. “You’re still the only one who can calm him down, Nivi. Remember that time you fixed his budget report last minute?”

She waved it off, but her cheeks warmed at the praise. “Just doing my job.” As she reached for a sambhar bowl, her sleeve caught on the table’s edge again, pulling her kurti slightly to show the curve of her hip. 

Ashok’s eyes darted there, then away, his fingers tightening on his glass. It was quick, but Nivi caught it, her curiosity deepening. They’re seeing me differently, aren’t they? she thought, though the table stayed loud with jokes, no one crossing any lines.


Back at the office, the afternoon dragged with data entry, but Raghavan stopped by her desk. “Settling in well, Nivetha?” he asked, his voice steady, eyes warm but professional. “The team’s already leaning on you.”
She nodded, a small pride sparking. 

“Trying to keep up, sir. It’s good to be back.” He smiled, a rare softness breaking through his usual sternness, and walked off. Later, as she helped Dinesh untangle a client’s messy invoice, their shoulders brushed over the screen, and they laughed at a typo— “Profit” spelled as “Prophet.” The moment was light, but the day’s small glances and easy camaraderie left her with a quiet buzz. 

Maybe I’m not just one of the boys anymore, she thought, heading home under the fading sun, the city’s pulse matching her own.

Continues....
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RE: Power and Submissions of Nivetha alias Nivi - by nivithenaughty - 05-08-2025, 12:34 AM



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