10-09-2025, 12:18 AM
Chapter continued....
The buffet was loud and busy. Plates clattered and people talked over each other. Meera sat at a long table under one of the big tents, carefully feeding Aaryan bits of rice and chicken. Rajiv was a few tables away, lost in a loud, laughing talk with his work friends. He was completely happy where he was.
Meera’s body was at the table, but her mind was not. Her eyes kept moving over the crowd, looking at every face. Where is he? That brief touch during the photo had made her want to see him even more, to be close to him. But Arjun was gone. The plate of food she got for herself was still full.
Aaryan pushed a piece of potato away. “Nahi, Mamma, woh nahi!” (No, Mamma, not that!)
Meera: “Haan, beta, haan,” she said, her voice distracted. Her hand went into her purse under the table and found her phone. She typed a message, her fingers moving fast.
Meera: Kahan ho? Dinner nahi kha rahe? (Where are you? Not having dinner?)
The reply came back right away.
Arjun: Paas mein hoon. Tumhe dekh sakta hoon. (I am nearby. I can see you.)
A hot thrill went through her. He was watching her. Right now. Her skin felt tight and sensitive, knowing his eyes were on her. She looked around harder but couldn't find him in all the people.
Meera: Lekin mein tumhe nahi dekh pa rahi hoon. (But I can't see you.)
She looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning the edges of the lawn. And then she saw him. He was far away, away from the lights and the noise, near the small generator shed. He was pulling a plastic chair from a stack and setting it down in the dim light. He sat down, alone. He didn't have a plate. He was just sitting there, watching everyone from a distance.
The sight made her chest feel tight. That sad, dull look was still all over him, even from across the lawn. She wanted to go to him, to pull him out of his lonely corner.
Meera: Wahaan pe kyun baithe ho? Yahan aao na. Be with us. (Why are you sitting there? Come here. Be with us.)
She stopped, then added the words, feeling their danger and their truth.
Meera: Be with me.
She needed him there. With her. She didn't want him to be alone. She wanted to feel him next to her. Just typing the words sent a new wave of nervous excitement through her stomach.
Arjun replied with a blushing emoji. That was it.
She needed more from him. She needed him to say yes. “Let me finish feeding him,” she typed, looking at Aaryan, who was now just playing with his food. “Then we will have dinner together, Arjun…. dullness chhodo please.” (…leave the dullness please.)
Arjun: Theek hai, Meera. I will wait here. (Alright, Meera. I will wait here.)
Him saying yes was all she needed. “Aaryan, baby, eat quickly,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. She scooped up another bite. “Dekho, airplane aayi!” (Look, the airplane came!) She made a playful swoop with the spoon, something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her only goal was to get him to finish fast. She was being a good mother, but a different, stronger need was pushing her now. The second he swallowed the last bite, she wiped his mouth and hands quickly. “Accha beta, jaake apne dost ke saath khelo.” (Good boy, go play with your friend.) She watched him run off to some other kids, then she turned to leave.
She stood up, smoothing the blue chiffon of her saree down over her hips. He’s waiting. And I’m coming to him. Wearing his favorite dress. Her fingers brushed over the fabric at her waist. And underneath… I’m wearing his lavender lace. He wanted to see this. He dreamed of this. The thought was intensely physical, making her feel naked and powerful at the same time. As she started walking slowly across the lawn towards his dark corner, she took out her phone one last time. She didn't type anything. She found a picture she took a few weeks ago of a lavender flower what he had gifted to her. She sent it to him. A silent message. A promise.
Just as she sent it, she felt something light and cool on her bare arms. A drizzle had started, a fine, misty rain. She looked up at the sky, then back at Arjun. She saw him stand up from his chair. He was coming towards her. Her heart jumped. The drizzle got heavier, the drops becoming real rain. A heavy feeling settled in her chest, a mix of wanting and being scared. Each step towards him felt important. He’s coming for me.
The rain picked up, becoming a steady, light shower. She put her hands over her head, but it was useless. She walked faster, looking down at the ground to keep the rain out of her eyes. She was so focused on walking that she didn't see him stop suddenly. She almost walked right into his chest.
He reacted fast. His hands came up and grabbed her shoulders to steady her. The touch was electric. Even through the wet chiffon of her blouse, she felt the hard strength of his grip. The heat from his palms burned into her rain-cooled skin. Her breath got stuck in her throat. She looked up, her eyes wide, meeting his. Everything else seemed to disappear. There was only the place where his hands held her.
He took his hands off quickly, like her skin had burned him. “Barish ho rahi hai,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Tum bheeg rahi ho. Chalo shamiane mein chalein.” (It’s raining. You’re getting wet. Let’s go to the shamiana.)
But as they turned to go to the crowded tents, the sky broke open. The gentle shower turned into a sudden, heavy downpour. In just a few seconds, she was completely drenched. The cold rain soaked through her chiffon saree right away. The thin fabric stuck to every curve of her body, going see-through. The end of the saree was plastered to her stomach, showing the clear outline of her navel underneath. The wet silk was stuck to her ass and her thighs, the fabric clinging tightly and showing their exact shape. The cold water was a shock, making her gasp, but it was followed by a sharp, heightened feeling. Every drop felt like a tiny, cold shock that woke up her nerves, making her totally aware of her own body, of the lavender lace panties that were now clearly visible through the soaked blue cloth.
Suddenly, Arjun’s hand shot out again, but this time it didn't grab her shoulder. His fingers closed around her wet hand, his grip firm and sure. Without saying a word, he turned and pulled her. He wasn't pulling her towards the distant, crowded tents. He was pulling her towards the small generator shed nearby.
His hand was so firm… he was pulling her. He was taking her away. The feeling of his fingers laced with hers, both their hands slippery with rain, was incredibly intimate. She didn't pull back; she let him lead her.
They got to the shed. It was locked, a plain concrete box with a metal roof. The roof stuck out a little, making a narrow strip of shade that was just enough to keep two people from the worst of the rain. But the wind blew the rain sideways, and a fine, wet mist still reached them, making sure they stayed soaked.
Her first thought, through the haze of feeling and panic, was of her family. She fumbled with her wet phone, her wet fingers slipping on the screen, and called Rajiv.
Meera: “Hello? Rajiv? Aaryan kahan hai? Tum theek ho?” (Hello? Rajiv? Where is Aaryan? Are you okay?) Her voice was shaky, partly from running, partly from the adrenaline rushing through her.
Rajiv: “Haan, haan, sab theek hai! Hum shamiane mein hain. Aaryan mere paas hai. Bilkul bheenge nahi hain. Tum kahan ho? Koi jagah mili?” (Yes, yes, all fine! We are in the shamiana. Aaryan is with me. We aren’t wet at all. Where are you? Did you find a place?)
I’m under a shed. Alone with Arjun. I’m soaked to the bone. My saree is see-through. He can probably see the lavender lace. My husband is asking if I’m safe. The guilt was a sharp pinch, but it was drowned out by the intense physical reality: the cold wet cloth clinging to her sensitive skin, the close heat from the man she couldn't stop thinking about, the loud drumming of the rain on the metal roof making a private world for just the two of them.
Meera: “Haan… haan… generator shed ke paas… chhota sa shade hai…” (Yes… yes… near the generator shed… there’s a small shade…)
Rajiv: “Accha, theek hai. Wahi ruko. Barish thamne tak bahar mat niklena. Hum theek hain.” (Oh, alright. Stay there. Don’t come out until the rain stops. We are fine.)
He hung up. Meera lowered the phone, her hand shaking. She was trapped here. With him. The rain didn't look like it would stop. It poured down in thick sheets, making a wall of water around their small shelter, cutting them off from everyone else.
Arjun was standing very close to her. They weren't touching, but she could feel the heat coming off his body, a warm contrast to the chill of her wet clothes. She could smell his cologne, mixed with the clean smell of the rain. She could hear his breathing, a little ragged, just like hers. He was trying to dry his hair by rubbing his hands through it, a move that made the muscles in his arm tighten and flex.
She looked down at her phone again, just something to do. She saw that the lavender picture she sent him was still marked ‘delivered’. He hadn't seen it. He’d been coming towards her in the rain when she sent it. He hadn't looked at his phone since. He had no idea about the silent, fragrant promise she had sent him right before they got stuck in this tiny, rain-filled space. The knowledge felt like a secret she was holding onto, a bomb waiting to go off.
The buffet was loud and busy. Plates clattered and people talked over each other. Meera sat at a long table under one of the big tents, carefully feeding Aaryan bits of rice and chicken. Rajiv was a few tables away, lost in a loud, laughing talk with his work friends. He was completely happy where he was.
Meera’s body was at the table, but her mind was not. Her eyes kept moving over the crowd, looking at every face. Where is he? That brief touch during the photo had made her want to see him even more, to be close to him. But Arjun was gone. The plate of food she got for herself was still full.
Aaryan pushed a piece of potato away. “Nahi, Mamma, woh nahi!” (No, Mamma, not that!)
Meera: “Haan, beta, haan,” she said, her voice distracted. Her hand went into her purse under the table and found her phone. She typed a message, her fingers moving fast.
Meera: Kahan ho? Dinner nahi kha rahe? (Where are you? Not having dinner?)
The reply came back right away.
Arjun: Paas mein hoon. Tumhe dekh sakta hoon. (I am nearby. I can see you.)
A hot thrill went through her. He was watching her. Right now. Her skin felt tight and sensitive, knowing his eyes were on her. She looked around harder but couldn't find him in all the people.
Meera: Lekin mein tumhe nahi dekh pa rahi hoon. (But I can't see you.)
She looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning the edges of the lawn. And then she saw him. He was far away, away from the lights and the noise, near the small generator shed. He was pulling a plastic chair from a stack and setting it down in the dim light. He sat down, alone. He didn't have a plate. He was just sitting there, watching everyone from a distance.
The sight made her chest feel tight. That sad, dull look was still all over him, even from across the lawn. She wanted to go to him, to pull him out of his lonely corner.
Meera: Wahaan pe kyun baithe ho? Yahan aao na. Be with us. (Why are you sitting there? Come here. Be with us.)
She stopped, then added the words, feeling their danger and their truth.
Meera: Be with me.
She needed him there. With her. She didn't want him to be alone. She wanted to feel him next to her. Just typing the words sent a new wave of nervous excitement through her stomach.
Arjun replied with a blushing emoji. That was it.
She needed more from him. She needed him to say yes. “Let me finish feeding him,” she typed, looking at Aaryan, who was now just playing with his food. “Then we will have dinner together, Arjun…. dullness chhodo please.” (…leave the dullness please.)
Arjun: Theek hai, Meera. I will wait here. (Alright, Meera. I will wait here.)
Him saying yes was all she needed. “Aaryan, baby, eat quickly,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. She scooped up another bite. “Dekho, airplane aayi!” (Look, the airplane came!) She made a playful swoop with the spoon, something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her only goal was to get him to finish fast. She was being a good mother, but a different, stronger need was pushing her now. The second he swallowed the last bite, she wiped his mouth and hands quickly. “Accha beta, jaake apne dost ke saath khelo.” (Good boy, go play with your friend.) She watched him run off to some other kids, then she turned to leave.
She stood up, smoothing the blue chiffon of her saree down over her hips. He’s waiting. And I’m coming to him. Wearing his favorite dress. Her fingers brushed over the fabric at her waist. And underneath… I’m wearing his lavender lace. He wanted to see this. He dreamed of this. The thought was intensely physical, making her feel naked and powerful at the same time. As she started walking slowly across the lawn towards his dark corner, she took out her phone one last time. She didn't type anything. She found a picture she took a few weeks ago of a lavender flower what he had gifted to her. She sent it to him. A silent message. A promise.
Just as she sent it, she felt something light and cool on her bare arms. A drizzle had started, a fine, misty rain. She looked up at the sky, then back at Arjun. She saw him stand up from his chair. He was coming towards her. Her heart jumped. The drizzle got heavier, the drops becoming real rain. A heavy feeling settled in her chest, a mix of wanting and being scared. Each step towards him felt important. He’s coming for me.
The rain picked up, becoming a steady, light shower. She put her hands over her head, but it was useless. She walked faster, looking down at the ground to keep the rain out of her eyes. She was so focused on walking that she didn't see him stop suddenly. She almost walked right into his chest.
He reacted fast. His hands came up and grabbed her shoulders to steady her. The touch was electric. Even through the wet chiffon of her blouse, she felt the hard strength of his grip. The heat from his palms burned into her rain-cooled skin. Her breath got stuck in her throat. She looked up, her eyes wide, meeting his. Everything else seemed to disappear. There was only the place where his hands held her.
He took his hands off quickly, like her skin had burned him. “Barish ho rahi hai,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Tum bheeg rahi ho. Chalo shamiane mein chalein.” (It’s raining. You’re getting wet. Let’s go to the shamiana.)
But as they turned to go to the crowded tents, the sky broke open. The gentle shower turned into a sudden, heavy downpour. In just a few seconds, she was completely drenched. The cold rain soaked through her chiffon saree right away. The thin fabric stuck to every curve of her body, going see-through. The end of the saree was plastered to her stomach, showing the clear outline of her navel underneath. The wet silk was stuck to her ass and her thighs, the fabric clinging tightly and showing their exact shape. The cold water was a shock, making her gasp, but it was followed by a sharp, heightened feeling. Every drop felt like a tiny, cold shock that woke up her nerves, making her totally aware of her own body, of the lavender lace panties that were now clearly visible through the soaked blue cloth.
Suddenly, Arjun’s hand shot out again, but this time it didn't grab her shoulder. His fingers closed around her wet hand, his grip firm and sure. Without saying a word, he turned and pulled her. He wasn't pulling her towards the distant, crowded tents. He was pulling her towards the small generator shed nearby.
His hand was so firm… he was pulling her. He was taking her away. The feeling of his fingers laced with hers, both their hands slippery with rain, was incredibly intimate. She didn't pull back; she let him lead her.
They got to the shed. It was locked, a plain concrete box with a metal roof. The roof stuck out a little, making a narrow strip of shade that was just enough to keep two people from the worst of the rain. But the wind blew the rain sideways, and a fine, wet mist still reached them, making sure they stayed soaked.
Her first thought, through the haze of feeling and panic, was of her family. She fumbled with her wet phone, her wet fingers slipping on the screen, and called Rajiv.
Meera: “Hello? Rajiv? Aaryan kahan hai? Tum theek ho?” (Hello? Rajiv? Where is Aaryan? Are you okay?) Her voice was shaky, partly from running, partly from the adrenaline rushing through her.
Rajiv: “Haan, haan, sab theek hai! Hum shamiane mein hain. Aaryan mere paas hai. Bilkul bheenge nahi hain. Tum kahan ho? Koi jagah mili?” (Yes, yes, all fine! We are in the shamiana. Aaryan is with me. We aren’t wet at all. Where are you? Did you find a place?)
I’m under a shed. Alone with Arjun. I’m soaked to the bone. My saree is see-through. He can probably see the lavender lace. My husband is asking if I’m safe. The guilt was a sharp pinch, but it was drowned out by the intense physical reality: the cold wet cloth clinging to her sensitive skin, the close heat from the man she couldn't stop thinking about, the loud drumming of the rain on the metal roof making a private world for just the two of them.
Meera: “Haan… haan… generator shed ke paas… chhota sa shade hai…” (Yes… yes… near the generator shed… there’s a small shade…)
Rajiv: “Accha, theek hai. Wahi ruko. Barish thamne tak bahar mat niklena. Hum theek hain.” (Oh, alright. Stay there. Don’t come out until the rain stops. We are fine.)
He hung up. Meera lowered the phone, her hand shaking. She was trapped here. With him. The rain didn't look like it would stop. It poured down in thick sheets, making a wall of water around their small shelter, cutting them off from everyone else.
Arjun was standing very close to her. They weren't touching, but she could feel the heat coming off his body, a warm contrast to the chill of her wet clothes. She could smell his cologne, mixed with the clean smell of the rain. She could hear his breathing, a little ragged, just like hers. He was trying to dry his hair by rubbing his hands through it, a move that made the muscles in his arm tighten and flex.
She looked down at her phone again, just something to do. She saw that the lavender picture she sent him was still marked ‘delivered’. He hadn't seen it. He’d been coming towards her in the rain when she sent it. He hadn't looked at his phone since. He had no idea about the silent, fragrant promise she had sent him right before they got stuck in this tiny, rain-filled space. The knowledge felt like a secret she was holding onto, a bomb waiting to go off.