Adultery Between Nabila and Ranjeet

[naj0501]

A moment later, he called out. His voice was full of amused disbelief. "Nabila... did you order a cake?"


I pushed myself up from the sofa. A slow, triumphant smile spread across my face. I walked over to him.

"Is that a problem, Mr. Singh?" I teased. My voice was a playful purr. "Are surprise desserts not allowed in your new fortress?"

He shook his head and laughed. He set the white box on the kitchen counter. Then he pulled me in for a quick, warm hug.

"With you, I'm learning to expect the unexpected," he said. "You're a menace."

"A menace who brings you chocolate," I replied. I patted his chest. "You're welcome."

He opened the box. The rich scent of dark chocolate filled the air. Inside sat a glossy, perfect chocolate truffle cake.

"It's beautiful," he breathed. Then he paused. A playful frown appeared on his face. "But we have a logistical issue. No knife. No forks."

"Shit!" I feigned a dramatic gasp. "All your careful planning is undone by a lack of cutlery."

"Hardly," he said. A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. "A good logistics manager always has a contingency plan." He turned to me. "Contingency Plan A. I hope you're not afraid to get a little messy."

Before I could answer, he dipped his index finger into the rich frosting. He gathered a small, perfect swirl. He lifted his hand. His gaze held mine.

"Open up," he commanded softly.

I parted my lips. He gently traced the frosting onto my tongue. The intensely sweet, rich flavor exploded in my mouth.

"Mmm," I managed. My eyes fluttered shut for a second. "That's... too good."

I opened my eyes. He was still watching me. His gaze was hot and unwavering. A tiny smudge of chocolate was left on the corner of my lip.

"Don't move," he whispered. He leaned in. He did not wipe it away. He captured the smudge with the tip of his tongue. It was a shockingly intimate gesture. A jolt of pure fire went straight through me.

"I agree," he murmured against my skin.

"My turn," I whispered back. My voice was shaky. "You can't be the only one having all the fun."

I mirrored his action. I dipped my own finger into the cake. I lifted it to his lips. He leaned in. His gaze never left mine. He took the bite. His lips closed softly around my fingertip for a moment too long.

"I stand corrected," he said. His voice was husky. "That's dangerously good." He caught my hand before I could pull it away.

 He pressed a soft kiss to my chocolate-tipped finger. "You're making it very, very difficult to behave, Nabila."

We were lost in our own little world. The air was thick with a new, potent kind of hunger.

Just then, a frustrated shout came from the small bedroom.

"Mummy! It's stuck! My excavator is stuck under the bed!"

We sprang apart, startled, the sensual spell instantly broken. I couldn't help but laugh, a fond, exasperated sound. I looked at Ranjeet, whose face was a mask of pure amusement.

"Duty calls," I whispered, reaching up to wipe a tiny smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth with my thumb. "Don't you dare eat all the cake without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, his eyes full of warmth.

I turned and headed towards the bedroom to help my son. As I left, I glanced back. He was leaning against the counter. He wasn't impatient. He wasn't annoyed. He was just watching me go, a look of profound love in his eyes that saw not an interruption, but a mother. He was choosing all of it. He was choosing us.

I went into the small bedroom. Adnan was on the floor. He was pointing under the bunk bed. His new excavator was stuck. It was just out of his reach. I got down on my hands and knees. The floor was a little dusty. I had to stretch to reach the toy. Finally, my fingers brushed against it. I pulled it out.

"Here you go, my hero," I said, handing it to him.

 "Thank you, Mummy!" He was happy again. He immediately went back to playing.

I stood up and brushed the dust from my jeans. I walked back to the living room. Ranjeet was there. He had cleaned up our messy cake tasting. He had put the box on the kitchen counter.

He smiled when he saw me. It was a soft, admiring smile.

"Crisis averted, I see," he said playfully. "The city is safe from stuck excavators."

I laughed  "For now. A mother's work is never done."

Then I went to sit on the sofa. He followed and sat next to me. He didn't leave any space between us. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me close. I leaned my head against his shoulder. It felt comfortable. It felt right.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he shifted. He gently tilted my chin up to face him. His expression was serious. It was full of a deep tenderness.

"Your cheeks are so smooth….," he murmured.

His thumb gently caressed my cheek. The simple, caring touch was incredibly intimate. It made my heart flutter.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said softly.

I gave a small, self-conscious laugh. "For being an expert in toy retrieval?"

"For everything," he replied, his voice earnest. "One minute, you are this radiant, breathtaking woman who completely unravels me. The next minute, you are on your hands and knees on the floor, saving the day for our little guy." He shook his head slowly. He was in disbelief. "You do it all. I'm just... I'm in awe of you."

I was speechless. No one had ever seen all the different parts of me. No one had ever admired them all together. He wasn't just in love with the woman he kissed on the balcony. He was in awe of the mother on the floor. I felt truly, completely loved.
Tears of happiness pricked my eyes. I leaned my head back on his shoulder. We sat in a comfortable, profound silence. The moment was full of unspoken promises.

I glanced at the wall clock. It was almost 1:30 in the afternoon.

"So Mr.King, What have you planned for lunch?," I asked. 

"A queen cannot go hungry in her new castle," he said, his eyes twinkling. He released me gently and reached for his phone on the coffee table. "Let's see what we can summon to our fortress."

He opened a food delivery app. He turned to me. "What are the royal decrees on pizza toppings?"

His playfulness was infectious. I laughed. "My decree involves a lot of olives and mushrooms."

"A fine choice, my queen," he said with a mock-serious bow of his head. He then called out to the other room. "Adnan! Hey, champ! What toppings does a superhero want on his pizza?"

A happy shout came back from the bedroom. "Just cheese! Lots and lots of cheese!"

"Just cheese it is," Ranjeet confirmed. He quickly tapped in the order. He looked at me and smiled. "Your lunch has been commanded. It will arrive shortly."

He put his phone down and pulled me close again. We settled back into the comfortable quiet of the sofa. We were waiting for our first meal in our new home. Everything felt simple. Everything felt perfect.

"This is all so much to take in," I said softly, my voice full of wonder. "Ranjeet, this flat... the incredible gesture... What would your parents say if they knew you sold ancestral land for a place in Mumbai?"

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. "My father, the pragmatist, would have told me to invest it in the stock market," he said with a wry smile. "He would have called it a foolish, emotional decision." He paused, his gaze growing distant. "But my mom... she would understand. She's a quiet romantic. She'd see the 'why' behind it." He looked at me. "She would like to meet you."

"My father was the same," I found myself sharing, opening a door to a part of my past I rarely spoke of. "Everything was about practicality, about saving for a rainy day. He believed grand gestures were reckless. I think... I think Asif was like that, too. Everything was a transaction."

"This isn't a transaction, Nabila," Ranjeet said, his voice firm but gentle. "And we are not our parents. Their story is written. We get to write our own." He lifted my hand and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. "And in our story, we are reckless with our love and ridiculously generous with our happiness. It's the only rule."

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, healing old wounds I didn't even know were still there. "I like that rule," I whispered.
The buzz of the doorbell announcing the pizza's arrival broke the spell. Soon, we were back on the floor, this time with a large pizza box open between us, the delicious scent filling the air. We ate and talked, sharing stories about our families-about his mischievous younger sister, about my sweet memories of my brother Sameer when we were children, about the funny quirks of our respective parents.

Adnan chattered happily about his cartoon movie while I served him the first slice, carefully making sure it wasn't too hot.
I watched Ranjeet out of the corner of my eye. He wasn't just being polite; he was engaged, asking Adnan about the movie's hero, listening with genuine interest. He seemed to fit so effortlessly into this little world I had built for my son and me.

Remembering a playful impulse, I picked up two slices of black olive from the shared topping container. I leaned over and placed them on Adnan's slice of plain cheese pizza. "Look," I whispered to him, "your pizza has eyes."
Adnan giggled, pointing. "He needs a mouth!"

I obliged, finding a curved piece of green bell pepper and setting it below the olives, creating a wide, happy grin.
Adnan clapped his hands in delight before taking a huge, cheesy bite out of the pizza face. I looked up from his happy expression and found Ranjeet watching the two of us. He wasn't just looking at me anymore. His gaze was sweeping over the scene-my easy laughter, Adnan's messy, joyful face-and the look on his face was one of such profound tenderness it almost undid me.