08-09-2025, 11:56 PM
Monday Afternoon – 401, Emotional Confession and Comfort
Ravi stood outside the door of 401, his hand hovering over the handle, his heart pounding in his chest.
The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of everything unspoken, unresolved. Every step he’d taken outside his flat in the last two days had felt like walking through wet sand, the pressure of his own guilt and the anxiety of facing Priya pressing on him with relentless force.
But here, in front of Neetu’s door, there was no turning back.
He hesitated, staring at the wooden frame as if it might push him away. A dozen times on his way up the stairs, he had told himself to turn back, to hide inside his own flat, to bury everything inside his chest.
Yet something stronger pulled him forward, a need to be seen, truly seen, in this fractured state.
When the door creaked open, Neetu stood there, her face softening at the sight of him. Her eyes were calm, a reflection of something unshaken in the midst of his turmoil. “Ravi! Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside to let him in.
Her hand brushed his arm as she greeted him, a silent, grounding gesture that seemed to anchor him in the chaos swirling inside him.
That single touch lingered longer than it should have, not in time but in his senses, the faint warmth of her skin, the ease with which she welcomed him, the contrast between her serenity and the storm within him.
“You look tense,” she observed, her voice a quiet, soothing balm. “Sit, please. You need to rest a little.”
Ravi nodded mutely, stepping into the familiar, comforting space.
The faint scent of sandalwood mixed with something sweet, maybe her perfume, maybe the remnants of a dessert in the kitchen, wrapped around him.
As he sank into the sofa, the weight of his exhaustion seemed to settle deeper into his bones.
But it wasn’t just physical weariness, there was something far more painful inside him, something he wasn’t sure how to name.
He had come to Neetu’s flat because part of him needed to unburden himself, but another part of him simply didn’t know where else to go.
“Bhabhi…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper. He struggled for words, the knot in his throat tight. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Neetu sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Before settling, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him.
It wasn’t hurried or awkward; it was warm, steady, and full of unspoken understanding.
Ravi froze for a moment, caught off guard, but the gentle firmness of her embrace eased something in him.
For an instant, his cheek brushed against her hair, and he inhaled the faint fragrance of jasmine and coconut oil, a homely scent, but one that struck deep, leaving him unsteady. When she finally pulled back, she remained close, her presence a silent reassurance that he wasn’t alone in this.
He needed someone to express his feelings and the tension locked inside him. He knew Priya Didi was not picking up his calls and that it was not the right time to talk to her. The only option he had right now was Neetu Bhabhi, who was here and willing to listen to what had happened.
Ravi stood outside the door of 401, his hand hovering over the handle, his heart pounding in his chest.
The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of everything unspoken, unresolved. Every step he’d taken outside his flat in the last two days had felt like walking through wet sand, the pressure of his own guilt and the anxiety of facing Priya pressing on him with relentless force.
But here, in front of Neetu’s door, there was no turning back.
He hesitated, staring at the wooden frame as if it might push him away. A dozen times on his way up the stairs, he had told himself to turn back, to hide inside his own flat, to bury everything inside his chest.
Yet something stronger pulled him forward, a need to be seen, truly seen, in this fractured state.
When the door creaked open, Neetu stood there, her face softening at the sight of him. Her eyes were calm, a reflection of something unshaken in the midst of his turmoil. “Ravi! Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside to let him in.
Her hand brushed his arm as she greeted him, a silent, grounding gesture that seemed to anchor him in the chaos swirling inside him.
That single touch lingered longer than it should have, not in time but in his senses, the faint warmth of her skin, the ease with which she welcomed him, the contrast between her serenity and the storm within him.
“You look tense,” she observed, her voice a quiet, soothing balm. “Sit, please. You need to rest a little.”
Ravi nodded mutely, stepping into the familiar, comforting space.
The faint scent of sandalwood mixed with something sweet, maybe her perfume, maybe the remnants of a dessert in the kitchen, wrapped around him.
As he sank into the sofa, the weight of his exhaustion seemed to settle deeper into his bones.
But it wasn’t just physical weariness, there was something far more painful inside him, something he wasn’t sure how to name.
He had come to Neetu’s flat because part of him needed to unburden himself, but another part of him simply didn’t know where else to go.
“Bhabhi…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper. He struggled for words, the knot in his throat tight. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Neetu sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Before settling, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him.
It wasn’t hurried or awkward; it was warm, steady, and full of unspoken understanding.
Ravi froze for a moment, caught off guard, but the gentle firmness of her embrace eased something in him.
For an instant, his cheek brushed against her hair, and he inhaled the faint fragrance of jasmine and coconut oil, a homely scent, but one that struck deep, leaving him unsteady. When she finally pulled back, she remained close, her presence a silent reassurance that he wasn’t alone in this.
He needed someone to express his feelings and the tension locked inside him. He knew Priya Didi was not picking up his calls and that it was not the right time to talk to her. The only option he had right now was Neetu Bhabhi, who was here and willing to listen to what had happened.
.
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