Adultery The Swamiji

[shailu4ever]

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The minister closed his folder, the snap of its clasp a startling finality in the cavernous hall. His Montblanc pen, the talisman of a hundred signatures that had altered the lives of millions, was set neatly upon it.
 
Then, with the same calm authority he had wielded his entire career, he spoke two words that cut deeper than any scandal:
 
“I resign.”
 
Chaos erupted instantly. Gasps, questions, a cacophony of microphones thrust forward. Ministers shot glances at one another, some incredulous, others grim, a few almost expectant.
 
Journalists shouted over each other, their pens and cameras desperate to trap history in real time.
 
But Kapoor himself remained composed.
 
He neither answered nor acknowledged. His face carried the serenity of a man who had rehearsed this moment privately, perhaps for years.
 
Then it appeared: a saffron bead, slipping from the fold of his sleeve, rolling across the polished wood of the podium. It gleamed in the floodlights, an ordinary object rendered extraordinary by the setting.
 
Every camera caught it. Every witness felt its significance, though none could name it. A token, a warning, a message, what it meant was unclear, but it was unmistakably deliberate.
Kapoor turned without flourish. He walked toward a side archway, each step unhurried, precise. Those who moved to intercept him hesitated; it was as if the aura of his authority had not dissolved with his office.
 
The carved doors closed behind him with a muted thud.
 
And just like that, Aarav Kapoor was gone.
 
The hall lingered in stunned disarray. The saffron bead remained on the podium, solitary yet radiant, as though it were the only witness that understood.
 
Aides whispered theories, health, scandal, blackmail.
 
Rivals exchanged looks not of triumph but of calculation, as if they had been waiting for this but were still unprepared for its execution.
 
Outside the palace walls, Hyderabad pulsed with confusion. Phones buzzed with breaking news; television anchors scrambled for explanations; social media flooded with speculation.
 
But inside, those who had stood in that hall felt something else, an unease that no broadcast could capture.
Because the resignation did not feel like defeat. It felt like a move. A deliberate opening gambit in a game whose board no one could yet see.
 
And in the corner of the room, unnoticed by most, a junior aide bent to retrieve the saffron bead. The cameras caught only a glimpse as he pocketed it before vanishing into the crowd.
 
Hours later, when the footage replayed on every channel, millions would ask the same question:

What did Aarav Kapoor see, and who wanted him silent?

-- oOo --

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