06-08-2025, 12:30 AM
(This post was last modified: 16-08-2025, 04:24 PM by nivithenaughty. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 8: Pushing Limits
Coimbatore’s morning sun burned through the haze, casting a golden glow over the office as Nivi stepped in, her simple blue kurti catching the light. Four weeks back, and the office felt like hers—keyboards clacking, the faint smell of ink and coffee grounding her.
Outside, the city thrummed: a vegetable cart’s bell jingled, and the sizzle of dosas from a nearby stall drifted through the open windows. Her navy leggings hugged her comfortably, but she was starting to notice how her clothes fit differently now, how they traced the curves motherhood had given her.
The gang’s banter, the women’s warmth, even Raghavan’s steady presence had become her anchor, pulling her from the weight of home—Anand’s late nights, the whiskey stains on the table, the bills piling up. But lately, something else stirred: the way heads turned when she walked by, not just from colleagues but from strangers too, like the auto driver who’d stared as she crossed the street yesterday. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore—it was a quiet thrill, a spark she couldn’t ignore.
At the tea station, the gang was in high gear, the air thick with cardamom and laughter. Ashwin leaned against the counter, waving his phone. “Client sent me a novel-long email at midnight,” he groaned, grinning. “Think they want me to live in their inbox.”
Dinesh smirked, stirring his chai. “You’d probably reply with emojis. Nivi, you’re the only one keeping us sane—how’s it going?”
Ashok, sipping quietly, glanced at her, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “You look… good today,” he said softly, then flushed, looking down.
Nivi smiled, pouring her tea. “Thanks, Ashok. Just surviving the chaos.” As she reached for a biscuit, her dupatta caught on the tin, tugging her kurti to show a sliver of her waist.
She fixed it quickly, but Ashwin’s story paused, his grin softening, and a delivery guy passing the window glanced her way, his eyes catching her silhouette before he moved on.
The look was brief, but it sent a small jolt through her. They’re all noticing me, she thought, the thrill growing, though she kept her tone light. “You guys still arguing over emails? Some things never change.”
Mid-morning, Raghavan called the team for a brainstorming session—a new client needed an urgent audit plan. “Nivi, your input’s key,” he said, his voice steady but warm. They piled into a van to visit the client’s office, a textile firm across town.
The ride was lively, Ashwin joking about his daughter’s latest crayon masterpiece, Dinesh teasing him about his “art critic” skills. Nivi laughed, but as she shifted in her seat, her kurti rode up slightly, catching Ashok’s eye. He looked away fast, his cheeks pink, and she felt that spark again—quiet, but undeniable.
At the client’s office, a modern building with glass walls, the team met with the manager, a stern man who softened when Nivi clarified a budget error. “Sharp catch,” he said, nodding. As they toured the floor, a young staffer glanced at her, his eyes flicking to her figure before he busied himself with papers.
Another worker, carrying fabric rolls, paused to look as she passed. The attention was subtle, professional, but it fed that growing awareness—she was drawing eyes, not just from the gang but from strangers here too.
Back at the office, Raghavan pulled her aside for a file review. The room was quiet, the hum of the AC soft. “You’re settling in fast, Nivetha,” he said, leaning back, his eyes warm but searching. “But you seem… distracted sometimes. Everything alright?”
She hesitated, then let the truth spill, her voice low. “It’s been hard at home, sir. Anand’s drinking more, always stressed about bills. The kids are my world, but I feel like I’m disappearing there. Here, it’s different—I feel seen.” Her fingers tightened on the file, the confession leaving her vulnerable.
Raghavan’s face softened, his usual sternness gone. “You’re not disappearing, Nivi. You’re strong, valuable. You deserve better than that.” His voice was gentle, his gaze steady. “Let’s get you out of here for a bit—clear your mind. Come with me.”
They drove to a nearby temple, the surprise catching her off guard. The air was thick with incense, the soft clang of bells mingling with chants. Raghavan stayed by her side, his presence calm as they lit lamps. “This place always grounds me,” he said quietly. “Thought it might help you too.”
Nivi’s chest tightened, his kindness hitting deep. He’s seeing me, really seeing me, she thought, a warmth spreading beyond the temple’s glow. As they left, the sun setting over Coimbatore’s skyline, she felt lighter, the spark in her chest burning brighter.
Those glances—from Ashok, the client’s staff, even passersby outside the temple—weren’t just curiosity now. They were fuel, making her feel alive in a way she hadn’t in years.
Continues...
Coimbatore’s morning sun burned through the haze, casting a golden glow over the office as Nivi stepped in, her simple blue kurti catching the light. Four weeks back, and the office felt like hers—keyboards clacking, the faint smell of ink and coffee grounding her.
Outside, the city thrummed: a vegetable cart’s bell jingled, and the sizzle of dosas from a nearby stall drifted through the open windows. Her navy leggings hugged her comfortably, but she was starting to notice how her clothes fit differently now, how they traced the curves motherhood had given her.
The gang’s banter, the women’s warmth, even Raghavan’s steady presence had become her anchor, pulling her from the weight of home—Anand’s late nights, the whiskey stains on the table, the bills piling up. But lately, something else stirred: the way heads turned when she walked by, not just from colleagues but from strangers too, like the auto driver who’d stared as she crossed the street yesterday. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore—it was a quiet thrill, a spark she couldn’t ignore.
At the tea station, the gang was in high gear, the air thick with cardamom and laughter. Ashwin leaned against the counter, waving his phone. “Client sent me a novel-long email at midnight,” he groaned, grinning. “Think they want me to live in their inbox.”
Dinesh smirked, stirring his chai. “You’d probably reply with emojis. Nivi, you’re the only one keeping us sane—how’s it going?”
Ashok, sipping quietly, glanced at her, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “You look… good today,” he said softly, then flushed, looking down.
Nivi smiled, pouring her tea. “Thanks, Ashok. Just surviving the chaos.” As she reached for a biscuit, her dupatta caught on the tin, tugging her kurti to show a sliver of her waist.
She fixed it quickly, but Ashwin’s story paused, his grin softening, and a delivery guy passing the window glanced her way, his eyes catching her silhouette before he moved on.
The look was brief, but it sent a small jolt through her. They’re all noticing me, she thought, the thrill growing, though she kept her tone light. “You guys still arguing over emails? Some things never change.”
Mid-morning, Raghavan called the team for a brainstorming session—a new client needed an urgent audit plan. “Nivi, your input’s key,” he said, his voice steady but warm. They piled into a van to visit the client’s office, a textile firm across town.
The ride was lively, Ashwin joking about his daughter’s latest crayon masterpiece, Dinesh teasing him about his “art critic” skills. Nivi laughed, but as she shifted in her seat, her kurti rode up slightly, catching Ashok’s eye. He looked away fast, his cheeks pink, and she felt that spark again—quiet, but undeniable.
At the client’s office, a modern building with glass walls, the team met with the manager, a stern man who softened when Nivi clarified a budget error. “Sharp catch,” he said, nodding. As they toured the floor, a young staffer glanced at her, his eyes flicking to her figure before he busied himself with papers.
Another worker, carrying fabric rolls, paused to look as she passed. The attention was subtle, professional, but it fed that growing awareness—she was drawing eyes, not just from the gang but from strangers here too.
Back at the office, Raghavan pulled her aside for a file review. The room was quiet, the hum of the AC soft. “You’re settling in fast, Nivetha,” he said, leaning back, his eyes warm but searching. “But you seem… distracted sometimes. Everything alright?”
She hesitated, then let the truth spill, her voice low. “It’s been hard at home, sir. Anand’s drinking more, always stressed about bills. The kids are my world, but I feel like I’m disappearing there. Here, it’s different—I feel seen.” Her fingers tightened on the file, the confession leaving her vulnerable.
Raghavan’s face softened, his usual sternness gone. “You’re not disappearing, Nivi. You’re strong, valuable. You deserve better than that.” His voice was gentle, his gaze steady. “Let’s get you out of here for a bit—clear your mind. Come with me.”
They drove to a nearby temple, the surprise catching her off guard. The air was thick with incense, the soft clang of bells mingling with chants. Raghavan stayed by her side, his presence calm as they lit lamps. “This place always grounds me,” he said quietly. “Thought it might help you too.”
Nivi’s chest tightened, his kindness hitting deep. He’s seeing me, really seeing me, she thought, a warmth spreading beyond the temple’s glow. As they left, the sun setting over Coimbatore’s skyline, she felt lighter, the spark in her chest burning brighter.
Those glances—from Ashok, the client’s staff, even passersby outside the temple—weren’t just curiosity now. They were fuel, making her feel alive in a way she hadn’t in years.
Continues...
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