05-08-2025, 12:40 AM
(This post was last modified: 16-08-2025, 04:16 PM by nivithenaughty. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 4: Turning Up the Heat
The morning light spilled across Nivi’s desk, glinting off the steel tumbler she’d left there overnight. Her red kurti, bright against the office’s faded walls, felt like a small rebellion against Coimbatore’s humid grayness.
Day three, and the rhythm of work—sorting invoices, untangling spreadsheets—was starting to feel like hers again. Outside, the city buzzed with life: auto rickshaws honked, a street vendor’s call for fresh idlis carried on the breeze, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered from a nearby temple.
Nivi leaned back in her chair, stretching, her kurti pulling slightly across her chest. She wasn’t thinking about her changed figure, but the occasional glance from a passing colleague made her wonder if others were.
At the tea station, the gang was in full swing, the kettle hissing like a gossiping auntie. Ashwin stood with his hands on his hips, recounting a disastrous diaper change that had Dinesh snorting into his chai. “Swear, the kid’s got better aim than a cricket bowler,” Ashwin said, grinning.
Dinesh adjusted his glasses, smirking. “You’re just mad he outsmarted you. Nivi, back us up—kids are tiny terrors, right?”
She laughed, pouring her tea, the steam curling up. “Oh, mine are worse. Yesterday, the youngest painted the wall with my lipstick.”
Ashok, leaning against the counter, gave a shy chuckle, his eyes flicking to her briefly before dropping to his cup. The chatter flowed easily, their voices blending with the office’s hum, but as Nivi turned to grab a spoon, her dupatta caught on the tin, tugging her kurti to reveal a sliver of her waist.
She fixed it quickly, but Ashwin’s story paused for a split second, his grin softening. It was subtle, but she caught it—a flicker of something new in their dynamic. They’re noticing me, she thought, her curiosity stirring, though she pushed it aside to keep the mood light.
By noon, the office felt stuffy, and Saritha waved her over at lunch. “Nivi, come with us,” she called, gesturing toward the canteen door. “Let’s take a walk to the park nearby—clear our heads.” Lakshmi nodded, fanning herself with a file. “This heat’s no joke. A stroll will help.”
Nivi agreed, grabbing her water bottle. The three women stepped out, crossing the busy street where cycles dodged scooters and a cow lazily chewed cud by a fruit stall. The park, shaded by sprawling banyan trees, smelled of damp earth and blooming hibiscus.
They walked along a gravel path, the crunch underfoot mixing with distant temple bells. Saritha nudged her. “You’re looking brighter already, Nivi. Work’s doing you good, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Nivi said, smiling. “It’s nice to feel… useful again. Home’s all kids and bills sometimes.” Her voice dipped, but she caught herself, not wanting to dampen the moment.
Lakshmi’s eyes softened. “You’re more than a mom, you know. You’ve got that spark—always did. Tell us about the boys; they must keep you on your toes.”
Nivi shared a story about her eldest trying to “cook” with mud, making them laugh. The walk felt like a breath of fresh air, their chatter about family recipes and college dramas wrapping her in warmth.
As they headed back, a breeze tugged her dupatta, and she adjusted it, catching a passing vendor’s glance. It was quick, but it added to that growing sense—she wasn’t invisible anymore.
Back in the office, the afternoon buzzed with work. Raghavan stopped by her desk, a client file in hand. “Nivetha, can you take a look at this? Your eye for errors is unmatched.” His tone was professional, but his rare smile felt personal, like he saw her effort. She nodded, diving into the numbers, her focus sharpening. “Looks like they mislabeled a column,” she said after a moment, pointing at the screen. “Should be an easy fix.”
He leaned closer, nodding. “Good catch. Keep that up.” His voice carried a quiet pride, and she felt a small thrill—not just from the praise, but from being valued in a way Anand hadn’t in years.
Later, she joined Dinesh to tackle a messy vendor sheet, their heads bent over her monitor. “Who writes ‘miscellaneous’ for half the entries?” he grumbled, making her laugh.
As they worked, her elbow brushed his, and he grinned, unfazed. “You’re a lifesaver, Nivi.” The moment was simple, but the day’s small connections—the women’s warmth, the gang’s banter, Raghavan’s nod—built a quiet confidence.
Heading home, the sun dipping behind Coimbatore’s skyline, she felt a spark. Maybe I’m finding my place again, she thought, the city’s pulse syncing with her own.
Continues....
The morning light spilled across Nivi’s desk, glinting off the steel tumbler she’d left there overnight. Her red kurti, bright against the office’s faded walls, felt like a small rebellion against Coimbatore’s humid grayness.
Day three, and the rhythm of work—sorting invoices, untangling spreadsheets—was starting to feel like hers again. Outside, the city buzzed with life: auto rickshaws honked, a street vendor’s call for fresh idlis carried on the breeze, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered from a nearby temple.
Nivi leaned back in her chair, stretching, her kurti pulling slightly across her chest. She wasn’t thinking about her changed figure, but the occasional glance from a passing colleague made her wonder if others were.
At the tea station, the gang was in full swing, the kettle hissing like a gossiping auntie. Ashwin stood with his hands on his hips, recounting a disastrous diaper change that had Dinesh snorting into his chai. “Swear, the kid’s got better aim than a cricket bowler,” Ashwin said, grinning.
Dinesh adjusted his glasses, smirking. “You’re just mad he outsmarted you. Nivi, back us up—kids are tiny terrors, right?”
She laughed, pouring her tea, the steam curling up. “Oh, mine are worse. Yesterday, the youngest painted the wall with my lipstick.”
Ashok, leaning against the counter, gave a shy chuckle, his eyes flicking to her briefly before dropping to his cup. The chatter flowed easily, their voices blending with the office’s hum, but as Nivi turned to grab a spoon, her dupatta caught on the tin, tugging her kurti to reveal a sliver of her waist.
She fixed it quickly, but Ashwin’s story paused for a split second, his grin softening. It was subtle, but she caught it—a flicker of something new in their dynamic. They’re noticing me, she thought, her curiosity stirring, though she pushed it aside to keep the mood light.
By noon, the office felt stuffy, and Saritha waved her over at lunch. “Nivi, come with us,” she called, gesturing toward the canteen door. “Let’s take a walk to the park nearby—clear our heads.” Lakshmi nodded, fanning herself with a file. “This heat’s no joke. A stroll will help.”
Nivi agreed, grabbing her water bottle. The three women stepped out, crossing the busy street where cycles dodged scooters and a cow lazily chewed cud by a fruit stall. The park, shaded by sprawling banyan trees, smelled of damp earth and blooming hibiscus.
They walked along a gravel path, the crunch underfoot mixing with distant temple bells. Saritha nudged her. “You’re looking brighter already, Nivi. Work’s doing you good, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Nivi said, smiling. “It’s nice to feel… useful again. Home’s all kids and bills sometimes.” Her voice dipped, but she caught herself, not wanting to dampen the moment.
Lakshmi’s eyes softened. “You’re more than a mom, you know. You’ve got that spark—always did. Tell us about the boys; they must keep you on your toes.”
Nivi shared a story about her eldest trying to “cook” with mud, making them laugh. The walk felt like a breath of fresh air, their chatter about family recipes and college dramas wrapping her in warmth.
As they headed back, a breeze tugged her dupatta, and she adjusted it, catching a passing vendor’s glance. It was quick, but it added to that growing sense—she wasn’t invisible anymore.
Back in the office, the afternoon buzzed with work. Raghavan stopped by her desk, a client file in hand. “Nivetha, can you take a look at this? Your eye for errors is unmatched.” His tone was professional, but his rare smile felt personal, like he saw her effort. She nodded, diving into the numbers, her focus sharpening. “Looks like they mislabeled a column,” she said after a moment, pointing at the screen. “Should be an easy fix.”
He leaned closer, nodding. “Good catch. Keep that up.” His voice carried a quiet pride, and she felt a small thrill—not just from the praise, but from being valued in a way Anand hadn’t in years.
Later, she joined Dinesh to tackle a messy vendor sheet, their heads bent over her monitor. “Who writes ‘miscellaneous’ for half the entries?” he grumbled, making her laugh.
As they worked, her elbow brushed his, and he grinned, unfazed. “You’re a lifesaver, Nivi.” The moment was simple, but the day’s small connections—the women’s warmth, the gang’s banter, Raghavan’s nod—built a quiet confidence.
Heading home, the sun dipping behind Coimbatore’s skyline, she felt a spark. Maybe I’m finding my place again, she thought, the city’s pulse syncing with her own.
Continues....
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)