03-10-2025, 12:52 PM
Chapter 98: Rising Influence
Nivi woke to the soft clatter of morning, her body rested after a night of dreams fueled by Raghavan’s flirty words, the red kurta and shimmering leggings from the previous evening swapped for a fresh start. She rose, the faint ache in her thighs a quiet memory, and slipped into a mustard-yellow kurta that flowed gently over her curves, paired with charcoal gray leggings that flattered her legs with a subtle sheen. The apartment hummed with the kids’ chatter as they got ready for college, their toy car zooming across the floor, the scent of her mother-in-law’s brewing chai filling the air.
As she tied her hair back, her mother-in-law emerged from the kitchen, a steaming cup in hand, her saree swishing with a playful sway. “Morning, starlet,” she teased, leaning against the doorway. “Don’t forget that Instagram plan we talked about. Let’s get some office looks before you head out—show off that glow.” Her voice carried a naughty lilt, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Nivi laughed, adjusting her dupatta, the mustard-yellow kurta catching the light. “You’re pushy! Okay, let’s do it.” They stepped onto the balcony, the morning breeze cool, and her mother-in-law grabbed Nivi’s phone. “Stand there—hands on hips, smile like you own the office,” she directed, snapping shots of Nivi leaning against the railing, turning to show her profile, the charcoal leggings outlining her shape. “Perfect,” the older woman said, reviewing the pics. “Post a couple—keep it classy.”
Nivi took the phone, scrolling through the images—one with a soft smile, another with a confident pose, the kurta’s vibrant hue popping. She added a caption: “Office vibes ? #WorkLook #IndianStyle,” and hit post, her heart fluttering as the images went live on her “NiviGlow” account. “There—my second step,” she said, showing her mother-in-law, who nodded with approval.
The kids dashed out to catch the college bus, their shouts fading, and Nivi grabbed her bag, heading to the office. The ride was routine, the auto jostling through the morning traffic, her mind on Rajendar and Raghavan’s plan. At the office, she gathered the team in the break room, the hum of the printer in the background, and announced, “Rajendar’s twisted his ankle—on leave for two weeks. I’ll handle his clients for now. Any questions?” Her voice was steady, the mustard-yellow kurta swaying as she stood tall.
Saritha raised an eyebrow, Lakshmi nodding curiously, but the boys gang—Ashwin, Dinesh, and Ashok—grinned. “You’re the boss now?” Ashwin teased, his voice booming. The day rolled on with usual tasks—spreadsheets, client emails, the office buzz familiar—her confidence growing with each nod of approval.
During a midmorning break, Nivi leaned against the tea station, the clink of spoons a steady rhythm. “Hey, boys, follow my Instagram—‘NiviGlow.’ Give me some love,” she said, her tone playful, the charcoal leggings hugging her as she stirred her chai.
Ashwin’s eyes lit up, his grin widening. “Oh, I’m in! I run a famous meme page—‘LaughLadCoimbatore.’ I’ll promote you, get you followers fast.” His voice was flirty, leaning closer.
Dinesh chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Promote her? She’ll outshine us all. What’s the first post, Nivi—something sexy?” His tone was teasing, a wink thrown in.
Ashok smiled shyly, sipping his tea. “I followed. You look great—keep posting.” His quiet compliment made her blush, the group’s energy lifting.
Nivi laughed, stirring her chai. “Just office looks for now, boys. Save the sexy for later—unless you beg.” Her voice was coy, the flirt keeping it light, the kurta shifting as she leaned back.
Ashwin grinned, nudging Dinesh. “Beg? We’ll spam your comments. I’ll boost you—ten thousand followers in a week if I plug it.” His tone was bold, his hand brushing her arm playfully.
Dinesh smirked. “Ten thousand? She’ll need a manager. That kurta’s a hit—show more leg next time!” His comment was cheeky, the group laughing.
Ashok nodded, his voice soft. “I like the modest vibe. But yeah, promote it—I’ll share too.” His support was sweet, his eyes on her approvingly.
The day continued with routine work—meetings, data checks, the office hum steady—Nivi’s mind split between clients and her new Instagram venture. The boys’ flirts lingered, their offers to boost her profile a thrilling prospect, her power growing with each interaction.
As the workday ended, Nivi sat at her desk, the office emptying, the faint clack of keyboards fading. She packed her bag, the mustard-yellow kurta creased from the day, the charcoal leggings still snug. The files for Rajendar weighed in her bag, his home a tempting pull. I should visit him, she thought, the decision firming. The office lights dimmed, her colleagues gone, and she grabbed the files, heading out with a determined step.
The auto ride was quick, the evening air cool, and she arrived at 12B, Old Gandhi Road, the simple house familiar now. She stepped through the gate with confidence, Titan’s earlier welcome replaying in her mind. The muscular dog bounded over, wagging its tail, and playfully hugged her legs, its fur brushing her knees. She laughed, petting its head, the fear gone, and rang the bell, the sound echoing in the quiet yard.
The door took time to open, a slow creak breaking the silence, and Rajendar appeared, leaning on his walking stick, his face registering surprise. “Nivetha? What brings you?” His voice was gruff, his ankle bandaged, and he glanced at the table, quickly trying to hide a whiskey glass with a shaky hand. His stumble was awkward, the stick wobbling, and Nivi rushed forward.
“Careful!” she said, steadying him, her hands on his arm, guiding him to the sofa. “It’s fine—I’ve seen worse at home with Anand. Sit, rest.” Her tone was calm, the kurta brushing his sleeve as she helped him settle.
Rajendar sank into the sofa, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks. Didn’t expect company.” His voice was low, the whiskey glass now tucked behind a cushion.
Nivi smiled, setting her bag down, the files peeking out. “I brought work—thought we could start. How’s the ankle?” Her voice was caring, the shimmering leggings catching the light as she sat beside him.
He shifted, wincing. “Painful, but manageable. Doctor said rest.” His tone was resigned, the stick resting against the armrest.
They talked work briefly, Nivi flipping through the files. “These need your input—client budgets. I’ll handle the rest.” Her voice was professional, the kurta’s fabric soft against her skin.
Rajendar nodded, his eyes on the papers. “Good. Let’s review tomorrow.” His voice was cooperative, the tension easing.
She noticed the whiskey, her gaze softening. “Go on, have your drink. I don’t mind—it’s your home.” Her tone was encouraging, a playful edge creeping in.
He hesitated, his hand hovering. “Not polite with a guest…”
She insisted, her voice firm but warm. “I insist. It helps the pain, right?” Her smile was reassuring, the leggings shimmering as she leaned back.
He relented, retrieving the glass, taking a sip. “Helps the ache—inside and out,” he admitted, his voice relaxing, the whiskey’s warmth softening his edges.
Nivi tilted her head, her tone caring. “External pain or internal? You don’t have to answer.” Her voice was gentle, understanding his solitude.
He didn’t reply, but his silence spoke volumes, the glass trembling slightly. She rose, fetching the bottle from the table, and poured him another round, her hands steady. “Here, let it help.” Her voice was supportive, the kurta brushing his arm as she handed it over.
Rajendar took it, sipping slowly, his eyes meeting hers. “I like you more in this… boozy feel. You’re different.” His tone was warm, a rare openness breaking through.
Nivi smiled, touched. “Thank you. I might visit often—does that bother you?” Her voice was hopeful, the power of her connection growing.
He looked at Titan, standing happily near her, wagging its tail. “With Titan liking you? Always welcome.” His smile was genuine, the whiskey glass steady in his hand.
She stood, gathering her bag, and hugged Titan goodbye, his fur warm against her cheek. “See you soon,” she said, stepping out into the night she headed home, her mind on the new bond and the path ahead.
Nivi woke to the soft clatter of morning, her body rested after a night of dreams fueled by Raghavan’s flirty words, the red kurta and shimmering leggings from the previous evening swapped for a fresh start. She rose, the faint ache in her thighs a quiet memory, and slipped into a mustard-yellow kurta that flowed gently over her curves, paired with charcoal gray leggings that flattered her legs with a subtle sheen. The apartment hummed with the kids’ chatter as they got ready for college, their toy car zooming across the floor, the scent of her mother-in-law’s brewing chai filling the air.
As she tied her hair back, her mother-in-law emerged from the kitchen, a steaming cup in hand, her saree swishing with a playful sway. “Morning, starlet,” she teased, leaning against the doorway. “Don’t forget that Instagram plan we talked about. Let’s get some office looks before you head out—show off that glow.” Her voice carried a naughty lilt, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Nivi laughed, adjusting her dupatta, the mustard-yellow kurta catching the light. “You’re pushy! Okay, let’s do it.” They stepped onto the balcony, the morning breeze cool, and her mother-in-law grabbed Nivi’s phone. “Stand there—hands on hips, smile like you own the office,” she directed, snapping shots of Nivi leaning against the railing, turning to show her profile, the charcoal leggings outlining her shape. “Perfect,” the older woman said, reviewing the pics. “Post a couple—keep it classy.”
Nivi took the phone, scrolling through the images—one with a soft smile, another with a confident pose, the kurta’s vibrant hue popping. She added a caption: “Office vibes ? #WorkLook #IndianStyle,” and hit post, her heart fluttering as the images went live on her “NiviGlow” account. “There—my second step,” she said, showing her mother-in-law, who nodded with approval.
The kids dashed out to catch the college bus, their shouts fading, and Nivi grabbed her bag, heading to the office. The ride was routine, the auto jostling through the morning traffic, her mind on Rajendar and Raghavan’s plan. At the office, she gathered the team in the break room, the hum of the printer in the background, and announced, “Rajendar’s twisted his ankle—on leave for two weeks. I’ll handle his clients for now. Any questions?” Her voice was steady, the mustard-yellow kurta swaying as she stood tall.
Saritha raised an eyebrow, Lakshmi nodding curiously, but the boys gang—Ashwin, Dinesh, and Ashok—grinned. “You’re the boss now?” Ashwin teased, his voice booming. The day rolled on with usual tasks—spreadsheets, client emails, the office buzz familiar—her confidence growing with each nod of approval.
During a midmorning break, Nivi leaned against the tea station, the clink of spoons a steady rhythm. “Hey, boys, follow my Instagram—‘NiviGlow.’ Give me some love,” she said, her tone playful, the charcoal leggings hugging her as she stirred her chai.
Ashwin’s eyes lit up, his grin widening. “Oh, I’m in! I run a famous meme page—‘LaughLadCoimbatore.’ I’ll promote you, get you followers fast.” His voice was flirty, leaning closer.
Dinesh chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Promote her? She’ll outshine us all. What’s the first post, Nivi—something sexy?” His tone was teasing, a wink thrown in.
Ashok smiled shyly, sipping his tea. “I followed. You look great—keep posting.” His quiet compliment made her blush, the group’s energy lifting.
Nivi laughed, stirring her chai. “Just office looks for now, boys. Save the sexy for later—unless you beg.” Her voice was coy, the flirt keeping it light, the kurta shifting as she leaned back.
Ashwin grinned, nudging Dinesh. “Beg? We’ll spam your comments. I’ll boost you—ten thousand followers in a week if I plug it.” His tone was bold, his hand brushing her arm playfully.
Dinesh smirked. “Ten thousand? She’ll need a manager. That kurta’s a hit—show more leg next time!” His comment was cheeky, the group laughing.
Ashok nodded, his voice soft. “I like the modest vibe. But yeah, promote it—I’ll share too.” His support was sweet, his eyes on her approvingly.
The day continued with routine work—meetings, data checks, the office hum steady—Nivi’s mind split between clients and her new Instagram venture. The boys’ flirts lingered, their offers to boost her profile a thrilling prospect, her power growing with each interaction.
As the workday ended, Nivi sat at her desk, the office emptying, the faint clack of keyboards fading. She packed her bag, the mustard-yellow kurta creased from the day, the charcoal leggings still snug. The files for Rajendar weighed in her bag, his home a tempting pull. I should visit him, she thought, the decision firming. The office lights dimmed, her colleagues gone, and she grabbed the files, heading out with a determined step.
The auto ride was quick, the evening air cool, and she arrived at 12B, Old Gandhi Road, the simple house familiar now. She stepped through the gate with confidence, Titan’s earlier welcome replaying in her mind. The muscular dog bounded over, wagging its tail, and playfully hugged her legs, its fur brushing her knees. She laughed, petting its head, the fear gone, and rang the bell, the sound echoing in the quiet yard.
The door took time to open, a slow creak breaking the silence, and Rajendar appeared, leaning on his walking stick, his face registering surprise. “Nivetha? What brings you?” His voice was gruff, his ankle bandaged, and he glanced at the table, quickly trying to hide a whiskey glass with a shaky hand. His stumble was awkward, the stick wobbling, and Nivi rushed forward.
“Careful!” she said, steadying him, her hands on his arm, guiding him to the sofa. “It’s fine—I’ve seen worse at home with Anand. Sit, rest.” Her tone was calm, the kurta brushing his sleeve as she helped him settle.
Rajendar sank into the sofa, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks. Didn’t expect company.” His voice was low, the whiskey glass now tucked behind a cushion.
Nivi smiled, setting her bag down, the files peeking out. “I brought work—thought we could start. How’s the ankle?” Her voice was caring, the shimmering leggings catching the light as she sat beside him.
He shifted, wincing. “Painful, but manageable. Doctor said rest.” His tone was resigned, the stick resting against the armrest.
They talked work briefly, Nivi flipping through the files. “These need your input—client budgets. I’ll handle the rest.” Her voice was professional, the kurta’s fabric soft against her skin.
Rajendar nodded, his eyes on the papers. “Good. Let’s review tomorrow.” His voice was cooperative, the tension easing.
She noticed the whiskey, her gaze softening. “Go on, have your drink. I don’t mind—it’s your home.” Her tone was encouraging, a playful edge creeping in.
He hesitated, his hand hovering. “Not polite with a guest…”
She insisted, her voice firm but warm. “I insist. It helps the pain, right?” Her smile was reassuring, the leggings shimmering as she leaned back.
He relented, retrieving the glass, taking a sip. “Helps the ache—inside and out,” he admitted, his voice relaxing, the whiskey’s warmth softening his edges.
Nivi tilted her head, her tone caring. “External pain or internal? You don’t have to answer.” Her voice was gentle, understanding his solitude.
He didn’t reply, but his silence spoke volumes, the glass trembling slightly. She rose, fetching the bottle from the table, and poured him another round, her hands steady. “Here, let it help.” Her voice was supportive, the kurta brushing his arm as she handed it over.
Rajendar took it, sipping slowly, his eyes meeting hers. “I like you more in this… boozy feel. You’re different.” His tone was warm, a rare openness breaking through.
Nivi smiled, touched. “Thank you. I might visit often—does that bother you?” Her voice was hopeful, the power of her connection growing.
He looked at Titan, standing happily near her, wagging its tail. “With Titan liking you? Always welcome.” His smile was genuine, the whiskey glass steady in his hand.
She stood, gathering her bag, and hugged Titan goodbye, his fur warm against her cheek. “See you soon,” she said, stepping out into the night she headed home, her mind on the new bond and the path ahead.