Yesterday, 11:18 PM
Chapter 104: Laughter and Whispers
The Sunday morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft patches of light across Nivi's apartment. The hum of Coimbatore's streets drifted in—vendors calling out for fresh idlis, the distant honk of an auto rickshaw. Nivi stirred in bed, the faint buzz of last night's whiskey with Rajendar lingering in her mind, his gaze on her curves flashing back. She stretched, her nighty clinging to her skin, and smiled at the quiet snores of her boys, still curled up in their room. The trolley of outfits sat in the corner, a silent reminder of her growing spark, but today felt softer, grounded in the rhythm of home.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet cool on the floor, and changed into a soft coral salwar suit, the fabric loose but flattering, tracing her fuller breasts and rounded hips. The matching dupatta dbangd lightly over her shoulder, and the cream leggings hugged her legs with a gentle shimmer. She tied her hair in a loose bun, a few strands falling free, and stepped into the living room, where her mother-in-law was already up, stirring a pot of coffee, her saree a bright green swirl.
“Morning, starlet,” the older woman said, her voice teasing, a naughty glint in her eyes.
“Sleep off that whiskey glow?”
Nivi laughed, grabbing a cup from the counter.
“Barely. The kids let me sleep in, though—miracle.” She poured coffee, the aroma grounding her, and leaned against the kitchen counter, the coral salwar brushing her thighs.
The kids burst in, their toy car zooming across the floor, their giggles filling the room.
“Amma, play!” the five-year-old shouted, waving a plastic dinosaur. Nivi set her cup down, her dupatta slipping slightly, and knelt, chasing them around the sofa, the coral fabric fluttering.
“Got you!” she teased, tickling the three-year-old, his squeals loud and joyful.
Her mother-in-law watched, sipping her coffee.
“Look at you, all energy. Save some for cooking lunch—we're making biryani today.” Her tone was playful, her saree swishing as she moved to the stove.
Nivi stood, brushing her salwar, and grinned.
“Biryani sounds perfect. Let's get the kids settled first.” She herded the boys to the table, setting out their toys—a car, a dinosaur, a puzzle—and they dove in, their chatter a happy hum. She joined her mother-in-law in the kitchen, the air soon thick with the scent of spices, onions sizzling in a pan.
“Pass the turmeric,” Nivi said, chopping tomatoes, the coral salwar's sleeves rolled up. Her mother-in-law handed it over, their hands brushing, and smirked.
“So, tell me about last night,” the older woman said, stirring the pot, her voice low and mischievous.
“You and that whiskey man—Rajendar, right? Getting cozy at his place?”
Nivi's cheeks warmed, her knife pausing.
“Cozy's a stretch,” she said, laughing softly.
“I fed his park dogs, took him a bottle of whiskey since his was low. We talked—drank a bit. He opened up about his past, his dogs.” She diced the tomatoes, the coral dupatta slipping to show a hint of her neckline.
Her mother-in-law raised an eyebrow, tossing spices into the pan.
“Talked, huh? Bet he noticed more than your words. Those kurtas of yours don't hide much.” Her tone was naughty, her eyes flicking to Nivi's curves.
Nivi grinned, stirring the rice, the salwar brushing her hips.
“Maybe. He did look… different last night. Kept glancing at me after a few drinks, like he was seeing me for the first time.” She paused, the memory of his eyes on her midriff sparking a thrill.
“Noticed my neckline, my legs in those leggings.”
The older woman chuckled, her saree rustling as she leaned closer.
“Oh, you've got him hooked! New partner in the making, Nivi? Trading Anand for an older guy?” Her voice was teasing, a playful nudge in her words.
Nivi laughed, shaking her head, the coral salwar swaying.
“He's in his early sixties, Amma! I mean, at that age, I doubt… well, you know, things probably don't work like they used to.” Her voice dropped, careful with the kids nearby, her eyes darting to them playing with their dinosaur.
Her mother-in-law snorted, stirring the biryani, the steam curling up.
“Don't underestimate older men, girl. They're the horny ones—trust me. Age doesn't stop the fire.” She winked, her saree tucked tightly as she moved to grab the chicken.
Nivi's eyes widened, a giggle escaping.
“You're bad! But seriously, he's just… lonely. I went to gain his respect, not… that.” She sprinkled salt into the pot, her salwar's fabric catching the light.
The older woman smirked, chopping coriander.
“Sure, respect. But I saw you after that resort trip with your boss—Raghavan, what, early fifties? You were walking like you'd been through something wild. Not even your first night with Anand had you wobbling like that!” Her voice was low, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Nivi burst out laughing, covering her mouth to keep it quiet, the coral dupatta slipping further.
“Amma! Stop it!” She glanced at the kids, still lost in their toys, and leaned closer, her voice a whisper.
“Okay, fine, the resort was… intense. But Anand's first night? Nothing like that. I was barely sore then.”
They both laughed, the sound filling the kitchen, the biryani simmering. Her mother-in-law nudged her.
“See? Older men know things. That Rajendar—he might surprise you. Those glances? He's thinking more than respect.”
Nivi shook her head, stirring the pot, the coral salwar brushing her thighs.
“I don't know. I wanted his trust for work, to help with clients. But now… I mean, he's kind, strong in his own way. Part of me wonders if he could be… more.” Her voice was playful, testing the idea, her cheeks flushing.
Her mother-in-law grinned, setting plates out.
“Wonders, huh? Look at you, considering the old whiskey man as a lover! You're trouble, Nivi.” Her tone was light, her saree swishing as she moved.
Nivi laughed again, the idea absurd but thrilling.
“Oh, stop. It's just talk. He's too old, and I'm… well, I'm not there yet.” She winked, grabbing a spoon to taste the biryani, the spices warm on her tongue.
The kids ran in, their toys abandoned, sniffing the air.
“Amma, food!” the three-year-old shouted, tugging her salwar. Nivi smiled, ruffling his hair, and helped her mother-in-law set the table, the coral dupatta slipping to show her curves as she moved.
They sat, the biryani steaming, plates piled with rice, chicken, and a side of raita. The kids dug in, their chatter loud, sauce smearing their cheeks. Nivi ate slowly, the flavors rich, her mind drifting to Rajendar's gaze, his quiet vulnerability. Her mother-in-law caught her eye, a knowing smirk on her face.
“Thinking about him?” she whispered, leaning close.
Nivi rolled her eyes, smiling.
“Maybe. But it's just… nice to be seen.” Her voice was soft, the coral salwar creased from sitting, the cream leggings shimmering faintly.
The meal stretched, the kids telling stories about their dinosaur's adventures, Nivi and her mother-in-law laughing at their antics. The older woman shared a tale from her own childhood, sneaking mangoes from a neighbor's tree, making Nivi giggle.
“You were trouble too,” Nivi teased, wiping her plate.
After lunch, the kids yawned, their energy fading, and Nivi led them to their room, the coral salwar fluttering.
“Nap time,” she said, tucking them in, their eyes heavy. She kissed their foreheads, the room warm with their soft breaths, and returned to the living room, her mother-in-law already on the couch, fanning herself with a magazine.
“Join me,” the older woman said, patting the seat, her saree loose.
“You look like you need a rest after all that whiskey and dreaming.”
Nivi laughed, sinking beside her, the coral salwar soft against the cushions.
“Dreaming? Hardly. Just… thinking about work, Rajendar, the dogs.” Her voice was tired, the day's warmth settling in.
Her mother-in-law smirked, her eyes closing.
“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She yawned, the magazine slipping, and they both drifted into a nap, the apartment quiet, the hum of Coimbatore outside a gentle lull.
The nap was short, the kids' giggles waking them, the afternoon light slanting across the room. Nivi stretched, her salwar creased, the cream leggings dusty from the morning's play. The day felt full—kids, cooking, gossip, the spark of Rajendar's gaze lingering. She stood, ready for the evening, her confidence a quiet glow.
The Sunday morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft patches of light across Nivi's apartment. The hum of Coimbatore's streets drifted in—vendors calling out for fresh idlis, the distant honk of an auto rickshaw. Nivi stirred in bed, the faint buzz of last night's whiskey with Rajendar lingering in her mind, his gaze on her curves flashing back. She stretched, her nighty clinging to her skin, and smiled at the quiet snores of her boys, still curled up in their room. The trolley of outfits sat in the corner, a silent reminder of her growing spark, but today felt softer, grounded in the rhythm of home.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet cool on the floor, and changed into a soft coral salwar suit, the fabric loose but flattering, tracing her fuller breasts and rounded hips. The matching dupatta dbangd lightly over her shoulder, and the cream leggings hugged her legs with a gentle shimmer. She tied her hair in a loose bun, a few strands falling free, and stepped into the living room, where her mother-in-law was already up, stirring a pot of coffee, her saree a bright green swirl.
“Morning, starlet,” the older woman said, her voice teasing, a naughty glint in her eyes.
“Sleep off that whiskey glow?”
Nivi laughed, grabbing a cup from the counter.
“Barely. The kids let me sleep in, though—miracle.” She poured coffee, the aroma grounding her, and leaned against the kitchen counter, the coral salwar brushing her thighs.
The kids burst in, their toy car zooming across the floor, their giggles filling the room.
“Amma, play!” the five-year-old shouted, waving a plastic dinosaur. Nivi set her cup down, her dupatta slipping slightly, and knelt, chasing them around the sofa, the coral fabric fluttering.
“Got you!” she teased, tickling the three-year-old, his squeals loud and joyful.
Her mother-in-law watched, sipping her coffee.
“Look at you, all energy. Save some for cooking lunch—we're making biryani today.” Her tone was playful, her saree swishing as she moved to the stove.
Nivi stood, brushing her salwar, and grinned.
“Biryani sounds perfect. Let's get the kids settled first.” She herded the boys to the table, setting out their toys—a car, a dinosaur, a puzzle—and they dove in, their chatter a happy hum. She joined her mother-in-law in the kitchen, the air soon thick with the scent of spices, onions sizzling in a pan.
“Pass the turmeric,” Nivi said, chopping tomatoes, the coral salwar's sleeves rolled up. Her mother-in-law handed it over, their hands brushing, and smirked.
“So, tell me about last night,” the older woman said, stirring the pot, her voice low and mischievous.
“You and that whiskey man—Rajendar, right? Getting cozy at his place?”
Nivi's cheeks warmed, her knife pausing.
“Cozy's a stretch,” she said, laughing softly.
“I fed his park dogs, took him a bottle of whiskey since his was low. We talked—drank a bit. He opened up about his past, his dogs.” She diced the tomatoes, the coral dupatta slipping to show a hint of her neckline.
Her mother-in-law raised an eyebrow, tossing spices into the pan.
“Talked, huh? Bet he noticed more than your words. Those kurtas of yours don't hide much.” Her tone was naughty, her eyes flicking to Nivi's curves.
Nivi grinned, stirring the rice, the salwar brushing her hips.
“Maybe. He did look… different last night. Kept glancing at me after a few drinks, like he was seeing me for the first time.” She paused, the memory of his eyes on her midriff sparking a thrill.
“Noticed my neckline, my legs in those leggings.”
The older woman chuckled, her saree rustling as she leaned closer.
“Oh, you've got him hooked! New partner in the making, Nivi? Trading Anand for an older guy?” Her voice was teasing, a playful nudge in her words.
Nivi laughed, shaking her head, the coral salwar swaying.
“He's in his early sixties, Amma! I mean, at that age, I doubt… well, you know, things probably don't work like they used to.” Her voice dropped, careful with the kids nearby, her eyes darting to them playing with their dinosaur.
Her mother-in-law snorted, stirring the biryani, the steam curling up.
“Don't underestimate older men, girl. They're the horny ones—trust me. Age doesn't stop the fire.” She winked, her saree tucked tightly as she moved to grab the chicken.
Nivi's eyes widened, a giggle escaping.
“You're bad! But seriously, he's just… lonely. I went to gain his respect, not… that.” She sprinkled salt into the pot, her salwar's fabric catching the light.
The older woman smirked, chopping coriander.
“Sure, respect. But I saw you after that resort trip with your boss—Raghavan, what, early fifties? You were walking like you'd been through something wild. Not even your first night with Anand had you wobbling like that!” Her voice was low, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Nivi burst out laughing, covering her mouth to keep it quiet, the coral dupatta slipping further.
“Amma! Stop it!” She glanced at the kids, still lost in their toys, and leaned closer, her voice a whisper.
“Okay, fine, the resort was… intense. But Anand's first night? Nothing like that. I was barely sore then.”
They both laughed, the sound filling the kitchen, the biryani simmering. Her mother-in-law nudged her.
“See? Older men know things. That Rajendar—he might surprise you. Those glances? He's thinking more than respect.”
Nivi shook her head, stirring the pot, the coral salwar brushing her thighs.
“I don't know. I wanted his trust for work, to help with clients. But now… I mean, he's kind, strong in his own way. Part of me wonders if he could be… more.” Her voice was playful, testing the idea, her cheeks flushing.
Her mother-in-law grinned, setting plates out.
“Wonders, huh? Look at you, considering the old whiskey man as a lover! You're trouble, Nivi.” Her tone was light, her saree swishing as she moved.
Nivi laughed again, the idea absurd but thrilling.
“Oh, stop. It's just talk. He's too old, and I'm… well, I'm not there yet.” She winked, grabbing a spoon to taste the biryani, the spices warm on her tongue.
The kids ran in, their toys abandoned, sniffing the air.
“Amma, food!” the three-year-old shouted, tugging her salwar. Nivi smiled, ruffling his hair, and helped her mother-in-law set the table, the coral dupatta slipping to show her curves as she moved.
They sat, the biryani steaming, plates piled with rice, chicken, and a side of raita. The kids dug in, their chatter loud, sauce smearing their cheeks. Nivi ate slowly, the flavors rich, her mind drifting to Rajendar's gaze, his quiet vulnerability. Her mother-in-law caught her eye, a knowing smirk on her face.
“Thinking about him?” she whispered, leaning close.
Nivi rolled her eyes, smiling.
“Maybe. But it's just… nice to be seen.” Her voice was soft, the coral salwar creased from sitting, the cream leggings shimmering faintly.
The meal stretched, the kids telling stories about their dinosaur's adventures, Nivi and her mother-in-law laughing at their antics. The older woman shared a tale from her own childhood, sneaking mangoes from a neighbor's tree, making Nivi giggle.
“You were trouble too,” Nivi teased, wiping her plate.
After lunch, the kids yawned, their energy fading, and Nivi led them to their room, the coral salwar fluttering.
“Nap time,” she said, tucking them in, their eyes heavy. She kissed their foreheads, the room warm with their soft breaths, and returned to the living room, her mother-in-law already on the couch, fanning herself with a magazine.
“Join me,” the older woman said, patting the seat, her saree loose.
“You look like you need a rest after all that whiskey and dreaming.”
Nivi laughed, sinking beside her, the coral salwar soft against the cushions.
“Dreaming? Hardly. Just… thinking about work, Rajendar, the dogs.” Her voice was tired, the day's warmth settling in.
Her mother-in-law smirked, her eyes closing.
“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” She yawned, the magazine slipping, and they both drifted into a nap, the apartment quiet, the hum of Coimbatore outside a gentle lull.
The nap was short, the kids' giggles waking them, the afternoon light slanting across the room. Nivi stretched, her salwar creased, the cream leggings dusty from the morning's play. The day felt full—kids, cooking, gossip, the spark of Rajendar's gaze lingering. She stood, ready for the evening, her confidence a quiet glow.
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