Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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Ravi’s eyes snapped back to her face, guilt and surprise flashing across his features. “I— I’m sorry, Didi,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing slightly.
 
But Priya Didi simply smiled, the hint of mischief still dancing in her eyes. “Are you looking at me like that because you’ve been missing my cooking, or is it something else?” she teased, her lips curling into a soft smile as she slowly turned back to the stove.
 
Ravi swallowed, the awkwardness of the moment still lingering. “I— I’m just…” he paused, unsure of what to say. The words were caught in his throat, but he could not deny the way she made him feel.
 
Priya Didi turned back to face him, her expression now a little more serious, but still filled with warmth. She tilted her head, observing him with a slight frown. “What are you really looking at, Ravi?” she asked, her voice now more commanding.
 
The playful tone had shifted, but there was still a softness to her words, a gentle challenge.
 
Ravi shifted uncomfortably. He felt a heat rising in his chest, and his eyes dropped to the floor for a moment.
 
He wasn’t sure how to explain what had caught him so off guard, the beauty of her form, the way her presence had quietly filled the room in a way he hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just the saree, or the way she moved.
 
It was her, in her entirety, her strength, her vulnerability, the elegance that seemed to flow from her without effort.
 
Priya Didi stood there for a moment, looking at him, studying the way his eyes flicked nervously from her gaze. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something else, but instead, she just shook her head, her expression softening.
 
She reached up to adjust her pallu once more, this time more deliberately, as if to regain a little control of the situation.
 
The way her hand brushed against the fabric, pulling it back into place, was a movement of grace, and Ravi could feel his heart racing again, drawn to the softness of her skin, the way she moved with such quiet confidence.
 
She arranged the upma in bowls, poured coffee into two small cups, and placed everything on the table. Each motion was precise yet gentle, an unspoken elegance in every gesture. 

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