Fantasy Devika, a rich high class housewife, with angel heart

[prady12191]

The next morning, Vishnu sat at their small kitchen table, nursing a cup of black tea as his father paced the cramped space. The rising sun filtered through the thin curtains, casting long shadows across the worn linoleum floor.

Dattu: "So? You said you found a way for me to meet her properly. Tell me quickly."

Vishnu set down his cup, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's perfect, Papa. I won't go to college for a few days."

Dattu: "What? How does you skipping classes help me?"

"Because," Vishnu explained, leaning forward, "Professor Devika is invested in my grades now. In Pathan's too. We have a big exam coming next week—the one I've been studying for all month. She needs us to score well."

Dattu stopped pacing, his weathered face lighting up with understanding. He lowered himself into the chair opposite his son, the wooden legs creaking under his weight.

Dattu: "She'll notice if you're missing."

"Exactly. After two, maybe three days, she'll start to worry. Not just as a teacher, but..." Vishnu paused, lowering his voice despite them being alone, "because of our arrangement. She'll call, and when I don't answer, she'll come looking."

Dattu's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "And she'll find me instead."

"Yes. When she comes, tell her I've stopped attending college because you're forcing me to work at the garage. Tell her you need the money because—" Vishnu pointed at the half-empty bottle of cheap liquor on the counter, "—because you've been drinking too much lately."

Dattu: "I don't understand. Why would I tell her about my drinking?"

Vishnu leaned back, studying his father's eager face. "Because that's how you'll create sympathy. Listen carefully, Papa. When she asks about me, act surprised that I'm not in college. Then, after some pressing, admit that you've been making me work instead of study."

Dattu nodded slowly, following his son's instructions.

"Then—this is the important part—you need to look at her. Really look at her. Then tell her she reminds you of my mother. That seeing her brought back all your memories of Amma, and that's why you started drinking heavily again."

Understanding dawned on Dattu's face. "She'll feel sorry for me."

"More than that," Vishnu continued, his voice taking on an instructional tone. "Kerala women are raised to be nurturing. They can't resist helping a man they see as wounded. Make her see you as broken, Papa. Vulnerable. Let your voice crack when you talk about Amma. Maybe even let a tear fall if you can manage it."

Dattu: "And then?"

"Don't push for anything that first visit. Just establish the connection. Make her promise to talk to me about returning to college. Thank her for caring about my education when you've been too... distracted to do so properly."

Vishnu stood up, gathering his empty cup. "She'll come back. To check on me, to check on you. That's when you start building more. Offer her tea. Tell her more about Amma. How lonely you've been. How seeing her brought back feelings you thought were dead."

Dattu listened, a hungry expression crossing his face as he imagined the scenario unfolding.

Dattu: "And she'll fall for this? A woman like that?"

"She already has with others," Vishnu said confidently. "Just be patient. Don't rush. Let her think helping you is her idea."

Dattu nodded, his work-worn hands clasping together in anticipation. "When do we start?"

"Today," Vishnu replied, setting his cup in the sink. "I'll skip classes starting now. By Friday, she'll come looking."

Dattu smiled, the early morning light catching the gleam in his eyes. "I'll be waiting."

For two days, Vishnu's absence from the classroom created a noticeable void. Devika found herself glancing at his empty seat during lectures, the space somehow more conspicuous than when he occupied it with his intense gaze. By the third day, concern overrode her initial relief at his absence.

After class, she approached Pathan as he gathered his books.

"Have you heard from Vishnu?" she asked, keeping her voice professionally neutral. "He's missed several important sessions."

Pathan shrugged, his expression unreadable. "No idea, madam. He doesn't tell me everything."

"That's strange," Devika pressed. "You two are usually inseparable."

Pathan: "People have their own problems, madam. Maybe he's busy with something."

His dismissive tone only heightened her suspicion. Something wasn't right.

That evening in her apartment, Devika paced before finally reaching for her phone. Her finger hovered over Vishnu's name in her contacts list. The propriety of calling a student outside class hours nagged at her conscience, but her role as his teacher—and their complicated arrangement—gave her justification.

After three rings, Vishnu answered, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

Vishnu: "Hello, madam."

"Vishnu, you've missed three days of classes. The practical exam is next week, and you were doing so well." She paused, lowering her voice. "We had an agreement about your grades."

A heavy sigh came through the line. Vishnu: "I know, madam. I wanted to come, but I can't. I have to work now."

"Work? What about college?"

Vishnu: "We have debts, madam. Family debts. I have to help at my father's garage."

Devika sat on the edge of her bed, frowning. "But your education—"

Vishnu: "My father doesn't care about that anymore. He's... he's drinking again. Heavily. Stopped going to work himself. Says I have to cover for him."

The defeat in his voice tugged at something in Devika. She thought of his improved grades, his eager participation in class. All that progress, now threatened.

"Why has your father started drinking again?" she asked softly.

Another sigh. Vishnu: "I don't know, madam. He was doing okay for months. Then suddenly... I think something reminded him of my mother. He gets like this sometimes."

Devika thought of the weathered man she'd seen in the corridor—small, slightly stooped, with eyes that reminded her of Vishnu's. Behind that rough exterior, was there pain?

"Is there no one who can talk to him? Make him understand how important your education is?"

Vishnu: "It's just the two of us, madam. Has been since my mother died."

Devika straightened her shoulders, making a decision. "What if I spoke to him? Teacher to parent? Perhaps he'd listen to me."

A pause. Vishnu: "No, madam. I can't ask you to do that. It's my family problem. You shouldn't get involved—it might cause trouble for you."

"Nonsense," Devika said firmly. "It's my duty as your teacher. Your performance affects my record too. I want to help."

Vishnu: "Are you sure, madam? My father... he's not like the educated people you usually deal with."

"I'm quite capable of handling different types of people, Vishnu." A trace of her old confidence returned to her voice. "Give me your address. I'll visit tomorrow."

Vishnu: "If you insist, madam. But please don't tell him I asked you to come. He might get angry with me."

"Of course not. I'll simply express concern about your absence." Devika wrote down the address as Vishnu recited it. "Don't worry. I'll handle this diplomatically."

After ending the call, Devika sat still, phone in hand. The appropriate thing would be to involve the college administration, perhaps speak to Seenu first. But something held her back—the memory of Vishnu's struggles, his gradual improvement under her guidance.

She would go alone. One conversation with his father might be all it took to get Vishnu back on track.

Little did she know that across town, Vishnu was smiling as he set down his phone, turning to his father with triumphant eyes.