Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

Chapter 2: Wolf at the Door

The Sunday evening glow settled over Hyderabad, a pleasant warmth bathing the city. Abhi sat on a mat on the living room floor of their large, modern two-story home, its spacious, landscaped yard lush with tropical plants.

Nestled in a well-maintained gated community, the house exuded luxury. A ceiling fan spun softly above him, casting cool air across the room, his math notebook open but untouched.

Madhuri was in the kitchen, the clatter of steel plates mixing with the sizzle of oil as she promised chicken pakora for the boys.

Abhi's stomach churned at the thought. Ishaan's coming into their home, and the photo he'd sent, the one still burning in his memory, felt like a loaded gun waiting to fire.

His phone buzzed, and he snatched it up. "On my way, bro. Tell her to look hot for me." Abhi's fingers froze over the keys, a mix of dread and something sharper twisting inside.

He didn't reply, but the doorbell rang before he could think it through.

Madhuri wiped her hands on her apron, smoothing her hair as she crossed to the door. She changed into a reddish pink saree, simple but snug, the fabric catching her curves in the light, and Abhi's throat tightened, knowing Ishaan would see it too.

"Namaste, aunty!" Ishaan's voice boomed as the door swung open, bright and dripping with charm.

He stepped inside, all 6 feet of him, bright tee stretched over his arms, jeans hugging his thighs, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

His grin was wide, disarming, but his eyes, dark and piercing, locked onto her like a hunter sizing up prey. Abhi shrank into the couch, wishing he could disappear.

Madhuri smiled, polite but warm. "Ishaan? Good to see you, Come in, sit." 

She gestured to the sofa, oblivious to the way Ishaan's gaze lingered on her saree's pleats, tracing the line of her hips. "Snacks are almost ready. You guys keep talking. I'll be back," she said, closing the door.

"Thanks, aunty," Ishaan said, dropping his bag with a thud. "Smells amazing already, Abhi wasn't kidding about your cooking skills." He shot Abhi a wink, subtle but loaded, and Abhi's face burned, his hands clenching into fists.

"Oh, it's nothing special," Madhuri said, brushing off the compliment, and turned back to the kitchen.

Ishaan's grin widened, leaning toward Abhi as she left. "Fuck bro, she's hotter up close," he whispered, voice low and hungry. "That saree's begging to come off."

Abhi flinched, hissing, "Shh.. shut up!", but it was weak, drowned by the thud of his own pulse.

Ishaan sprawled on the sofa, legs spread wide, owning the space.

"Relax, buddy. I'm just admiring the view" He pulled out a notebook, flipping it open like this was really about studying, but his eyes kept darting to the kitchen.