Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

The sun dipped low, painting Hyderabad's streets in long, lazy shadows as Madhuri sat in the verandah, knitting a table runner with a rhythm that mirrored her racing thoughts.

She'd scolded herself all day, she's a mother, a wife, not some giddy girl, but the heat wouldn't fade.

Her phones sat on the counter, two lives staring back at her, and she glanced at them every few minutes, half-expecting, half-dreading the buzz.

Downstairs, Abhi sprawled on his bed, his textbook open on his study table, but untouched for an hour.

He'd seen it, her laugh when Ishaan teased her, the way her hand lingered on his arm, her eyes sparking with something alive. It wasn't just politeness; it was electric, and it twisted him up.

Guilt choked him, but a dark thrill sparked every time he pictured Ishaan closer.

His phone buzzed, Ishaan's name lighting up the screen. "What's she doing, fucker? Feed me."

Abhi's hands moved quickly, typing back. "I think she is in the veranda, knitting a table runner." He hit send and sank deeper into the mattress, a traitor's weight settling heavy in his bones.


Ishaan's reply snapped back quickly. "Good, you’re my watchman from here on."

Ishaan leaned against his bedframe, as he texted her main:  "The way your fingers dance with that needle, got me imagining how you'd handle longer pointy tools." 

Madhuri's main buzzed mid-stitch, the knit tangled as she grabbed it. His words glared up at her, and her breath caught, a flush creeping hot up her neck.