Yesterday, 04:50 PM
Devika walked toward the practical laboratory with hesitant steps, her mind still churning from Saradha's earlier advice. The conversation replayed in her head—the suggestion to embrace the attention rather than fight it, to find power in control rather than resistance. Her fingers gripped the laboratory keys tighter as she approached the door.
The familiar sound of muffled voices drifted from within. Pathan and Vishnu were already there, just as they had been for their first private session. This was only their second class together, but the memory of their previous encounter lingered uncomfortably in her thoughts—the way their eyes had tracked her every movement, their whispered comments, the casual brushes against her arm that had seemed too deliberate to be accidental.
Devika paused outside the door, taking a steadying breath. She could hear Pathan's deep laughter mixing with Vishnu's quieter chuckles. Whatever they were discussing, it had nothing to do with biology.
She pushed open the door and entered. Both students looked up immediately, their conversation dying mid-sentence. Pathan lounged against one of the laboratory benches, his usual cocky smirk already in place. Vishnu stood beside the microscope setup, his calculating eyes studying her face as if searching for some change in her demeanor.
"Good morning," Devika said, setting her materials on the front desk. "Let's begin today's session on cellular respiration."
She moved to the whiteboard, acutely aware of their gazes following her. As she began writing the day's objectives, she heard Pathan whisper something to Vishnu, followed by another low chuckle.
"Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Devika asked without turning around.
"Nothing, Madam," Pathan replied, but his tone carried that familiar undercurrent of amusement that suggested otherwise.
Devika turned to face them, marker still in hand. "Then please focus on the lesson."
She began explaining the process of cellular respiration, drawing diagrams and pointing out key concepts. For the first few minutes, both students seemed engaged, asking relevant questions and taking notes. But gradually, their attention began to wander.
"Madam," Vishnu interrupted during her explanation of the electron transport chain, "have you seen any good movies lately?"
Devika paused, surprised by the sudden change in topic. "This isn't the time for—"
"We just watched this amazing romantic film," Pathan chimed in, moving closer to her position at the board. "It was about a married woman who falls in love with a younger man."
Devika felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Please focus on the lesson."
"But it was such a beautiful story," Vishnu continued, also stepping closer. His voice carried a dreamy quality that seemed deliberately exaggerated. "The woman was lonely because her husband didn't understand her. The younger man helped her discover parts of herself she never knew existed."
"That's enough," Devika said firmly, but her voice lacked its usual authority. Something about their description tugged at her thoughts—the lonely wife, the distant husband.
Pathan moved to adjust the microscope, his shoulder brushing against her arm as he reached across her. The contact lasted longer than necessary, his warmth pressing through the thin fabric of her blouse.
"Sorry, Madam," he murmured, not moving away immediately. "Just needed to check the focus."
Devika stepped back, but found herself trapped between Pathan and the laboratory bench. Vishnu appeared on her other side, ostensibly to look at the slide preparation, but positioning himself close enough that she could smell his cologne.
"The best part," Vishnu continued as if their conversation hadn't been interrupted, "was how the woman realized she deserved to be desired. Her husband took her for granted, but this other man saw her beauty."
Despite herself, Devika found the description resonating. Wasn't that exactly her situation with Rajeevan? Hadn't he taken her for granted while pursuing other women?
"Focus on your work," she managed, but her voice had grown softer.
Pathan leaned closer, pretending to examine the diagram she'd drawn. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "The woman in the movie was a teacher too. Very beautiful, very intelligent. Just like you, Madam."
Devika's pulse quickened. She should put an end to this conversation immediately, establish proper boundaries. But Saradha's words echoed in her mind—about finding power in these interactions, about not always fighting against them.
"What was the movie called?" she heard herself ask.
Both students exchanged a quick glance, surprised by her engagement. Vishnu smiled, sensing an opening.
"It was called 'Forbidden Hearts,'" he said. "Have you seen it?"
"No, I don't watch such films," Devika replied, then added more quietly, "What happened to the woman in the end?"
Pathan moved closer again, this time reaching past her to point at something on the board. His chest pressed briefly against her back as he extended his arm.
"She learned to value herself," he said, his voice lower now. "She stopped letting others decide her worth."
"But wasn't she married?" Devika asked, her professional persona slipping as curiosity took hold.
"Marriage doesn't mean accepting neglect," Vishnu replied philosophically. "The movie showed that everyone deserves to feel appreciated, to feel desired."
Devika remembered Saradha's words about Vishnu and Pathan lacking family love, growing up without proper guidance. Perhaps their interest in such stories reflected their own emotional needs rather than simple manipulation.
"You both seem to think deeply about relationships," she observed, genuinely curious now. "Is that because of your own family situations?"
The question hung in the air, more personal than anything she'd previously shared with them. Both students looked surprised by her shift toward genuine interest.
"My father is always traveling," Vishnu admitted quietly. "Business comes first. I learned early that you have to take attention when you find it."
Pathan nodded. "My home isn't peaceful. Too much fighting, too much anger. I prefer being here, talking with understanding people like you."
Devika felt a pang of sympathy. Here she'd been viewing them as predators, but perhaps they were simply young men seeking connection, approval, understanding—the very things missing from their family lives.
"That must be difficult," she said softly. "Having unsupportive families."
"It is," Pathan agreed, then added more boldly, "That's why we appreciate spending time with someone like you. You're kind, beautiful, intelligent. You make us feel valued."
The compliment sent warmth through Devika's chest. When was the last time Rajeevan had called her beautiful? When had he last made her feel valued?
"You're both intelligent students," she replied, allowing a smile to touch her lips. "You just need proper guidance."
"Could you recommend some good films?" Vishnu asked. "Romantic ones that show real emotional connections?"
Devika found herself considering the question seriously. "I don't usually watch romantic films, but perhaps..."
They spent the remaining minutes of class discussing movies, books, and stories about complex relationships. The conversation flowed naturally, almost intimately, as if they were friends rather than teacher and students. Devika forgot about cellular respiration diagrams, about maintaining professional distance.
When the class period ended, both students gathered their materials slowly, reluctant to leave.
"Thank you for the interesting discussion, Madam," Vishnu said. "It's refreshing to talk with someone who understands complex emotions."
"Yes," Pathan agreed. "We look forward to our next session."
After they left, Devika remained in the empty laboratory, staring at the abandoned lesson on the whiteboard. She'd planned to teach cellular respiration but had instead engaged in intimate conversations about romance and relationships.
More troubling was how natural it had felt, how their attention had warmed something cold inside her. For the first time in months, she'd felt genuinely appreciated, genuinely seen.
As she gathered her materials, Devika wondered if this was what Saradha had meant about embracing rather than fighting. The conversation had given her a sense of control, of choice in how the interaction unfolded.
But deep down, she knew she'd crossed a line—one that would be difficult to redraw.
The familiar sound of muffled voices drifted from within. Pathan and Vishnu were already there, just as they had been for their first private session. This was only their second class together, but the memory of their previous encounter lingered uncomfortably in her thoughts—the way their eyes had tracked her every movement, their whispered comments, the casual brushes against her arm that had seemed too deliberate to be accidental.
Devika paused outside the door, taking a steadying breath. She could hear Pathan's deep laughter mixing with Vishnu's quieter chuckles. Whatever they were discussing, it had nothing to do with biology.
She pushed open the door and entered. Both students looked up immediately, their conversation dying mid-sentence. Pathan lounged against one of the laboratory benches, his usual cocky smirk already in place. Vishnu stood beside the microscope setup, his calculating eyes studying her face as if searching for some change in her demeanor.
"Good morning," Devika said, setting her materials on the front desk. "Let's begin today's session on cellular respiration."
She moved to the whiteboard, acutely aware of their gazes following her. As she began writing the day's objectives, she heard Pathan whisper something to Vishnu, followed by another low chuckle.
"Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Devika asked without turning around.
"Nothing, Madam," Pathan replied, but his tone carried that familiar undercurrent of amusement that suggested otherwise.
Devika turned to face them, marker still in hand. "Then please focus on the lesson."
She began explaining the process of cellular respiration, drawing diagrams and pointing out key concepts. For the first few minutes, both students seemed engaged, asking relevant questions and taking notes. But gradually, their attention began to wander.
"Madam," Vishnu interrupted during her explanation of the electron transport chain, "have you seen any good movies lately?"
Devika paused, surprised by the sudden change in topic. "This isn't the time for—"
"We just watched this amazing romantic film," Pathan chimed in, moving closer to her position at the board. "It was about a married woman who falls in love with a younger man."
Devika felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Please focus on the lesson."
"But it was such a beautiful story," Vishnu continued, also stepping closer. His voice carried a dreamy quality that seemed deliberately exaggerated. "The woman was lonely because her husband didn't understand her. The younger man helped her discover parts of herself she never knew existed."
"That's enough," Devika said firmly, but her voice lacked its usual authority. Something about their description tugged at her thoughts—the lonely wife, the distant husband.
Pathan moved to adjust the microscope, his shoulder brushing against her arm as he reached across her. The contact lasted longer than necessary, his warmth pressing through the thin fabric of her blouse.
"Sorry, Madam," he murmured, not moving away immediately. "Just needed to check the focus."
Devika stepped back, but found herself trapped between Pathan and the laboratory bench. Vishnu appeared on her other side, ostensibly to look at the slide preparation, but positioning himself close enough that she could smell his cologne.
"The best part," Vishnu continued as if their conversation hadn't been interrupted, "was how the woman realized she deserved to be desired. Her husband took her for granted, but this other man saw her beauty."
Despite herself, Devika found the description resonating. Wasn't that exactly her situation with Rajeevan? Hadn't he taken her for granted while pursuing other women?
"Focus on your work," she managed, but her voice had grown softer.
Pathan leaned closer, pretending to examine the diagram she'd drawn. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "The woman in the movie was a teacher too. Very beautiful, very intelligent. Just like you, Madam."
Devika's pulse quickened. She should put an end to this conversation immediately, establish proper boundaries. But Saradha's words echoed in her mind—about finding power in these interactions, about not always fighting against them.
"What was the movie called?" she heard herself ask.
Both students exchanged a quick glance, surprised by her engagement. Vishnu smiled, sensing an opening.
"It was called 'Forbidden Hearts,'" he said. "Have you seen it?"
"No, I don't watch such films," Devika replied, then added more quietly, "What happened to the woman in the end?"
Pathan moved closer again, this time reaching past her to point at something on the board. His chest pressed briefly against her back as he extended his arm.
"She learned to value herself," he said, his voice lower now. "She stopped letting others decide her worth."
"But wasn't she married?" Devika asked, her professional persona slipping as curiosity took hold.
"Marriage doesn't mean accepting neglect," Vishnu replied philosophically. "The movie showed that everyone deserves to feel appreciated, to feel desired."
Devika remembered Saradha's words about Vishnu and Pathan lacking family love, growing up without proper guidance. Perhaps their interest in such stories reflected their own emotional needs rather than simple manipulation.
"You both seem to think deeply about relationships," she observed, genuinely curious now. "Is that because of your own family situations?"
The question hung in the air, more personal than anything she'd previously shared with them. Both students looked surprised by her shift toward genuine interest.
"My father is always traveling," Vishnu admitted quietly. "Business comes first. I learned early that you have to take attention when you find it."
Pathan nodded. "My home isn't peaceful. Too much fighting, too much anger. I prefer being here, talking with understanding people like you."
Devika felt a pang of sympathy. Here she'd been viewing them as predators, but perhaps they were simply young men seeking connection, approval, understanding—the very things missing from their family lives.
"That must be difficult," she said softly. "Having unsupportive families."
"It is," Pathan agreed, then added more boldly, "That's why we appreciate spending time with someone like you. You're kind, beautiful, intelligent. You make us feel valued."
The compliment sent warmth through Devika's chest. When was the last time Rajeevan had called her beautiful? When had he last made her feel valued?
"You're both intelligent students," she replied, allowing a smile to touch her lips. "You just need proper guidance."
"Could you recommend some good films?" Vishnu asked. "Romantic ones that show real emotional connections?"
Devika found herself considering the question seriously. "I don't usually watch romantic films, but perhaps..."
They spent the remaining minutes of class discussing movies, books, and stories about complex relationships. The conversation flowed naturally, almost intimately, as if they were friends rather than teacher and students. Devika forgot about cellular respiration diagrams, about maintaining professional distance.
When the class period ended, both students gathered their materials slowly, reluctant to leave.
"Thank you for the interesting discussion, Madam," Vishnu said. "It's refreshing to talk with someone who understands complex emotions."
"Yes," Pathan agreed. "We look forward to our next session."
After they left, Devika remained in the empty laboratory, staring at the abandoned lesson on the whiteboard. She'd planned to teach cellular respiration but had instead engaged in intimate conversations about romance and relationships.
More troubling was how natural it had felt, how their attention had warmed something cold inside her. For the first time in months, she'd felt genuinely appreciated, genuinely seen.
As she gathered her materials, Devika wondered if this was what Saradha had meant about embracing rather than fighting. The conversation had given her a sense of control, of choice in how the interaction unfolded.
But deep down, she knew she'd crossed a line—one that would be difficult to redraw.
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