22-11-2025, 07:41 AM
Dinner concluded with comfortable conversation, the biryani praised and plates emptied. As Vishnu cleared the table, Dattu glanced at the chocolate cake waiting in the center, its surface gleaming under the colored lights.
"Time to cut the cake, Father," Vishnu announced, placing a single candle in the center and lighting it with a match. The flame danced, casting flickering shadows across their faces.
Dattu stared at the cake, his expression suddenly distant. His weathered hand reached for the knife but stopped midway. His shoulders began to tremble, and to Devika's surprise, tears welled in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" Devika asked, alarmed by the sudden change. "Dattu?"
Vishnu touched her elbow gently. "Madam, can you come with me for a moment?" His voice was hushed with concern.
Confused, Devika followed him into the small bedroom off the main living area. The space was sparse—a single bed with a faded quilt, a wooden chair, and photos of a woman Devika presumed was Vishnu's mother taped to the wall.
"I'm sorry about that," Vishnu said, closing the door partway. "Every birthday is like this. It's when he misses my mother the most."
"I didn't realize," Devika murmured, feeling like an intruder. "Perhaps I should leave. This seems like a family moment."
"No, please." Vishnu stepped closer, his eyes earnest. "Actually, I had a thought—it might sound strange but..."
"What is it?" Devika prompted when he hesitated.
"My father hasn't celebrated properly since my mother passed. He needs someone..." Vishnu paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "Madam, if you don't mind, could you replace my mother's place? Just for tonight?"
Devika stared at him, uncomprehending. "Replace your mother?"
"Just for the cake cutting," Vishnu clarified quickly. "Stand beside him where she would have stood. Help him blow out the candle. It would mean everything to him."
Pathan's words about the father and son from the explicit video flashed unbidden through Devika's mind. She pushed the thought away, feeling heat rise to her face.
"I don't know if that's appropriate," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Please, madam." Vishnu's eyes were pleading now. "Just for this birthday. Give him company as his wife until we finish the celebration. He'll be happy again, I promise."
Devika glanced toward the partially open door, where she could see Dattu sitting motionless before the cake, shoulders slumped in defeat. Something in his vulnerability touched her—this gruff man reduced to tears by memory and loneliness.
"Alright," she conceded hesitantly. "If it will help him enjoy his birthday."
Relief flooded Vishnu's face. "Thank you, madam. You are too kind."
They returned to find Dattu wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Vishnu approached his father, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Father, don't cry. I have good news." He gestured toward Devika. "You have a new wife today."
Dattu looked up, genuine surprise crossing his features as his gaze settled on Devika.
"Just for tonight," Devika added quickly, her heart racing. "For your birthday celebration. You can... think of me as your wife."
Dattu shook his head slightly. "No, no. I couldn't ask such a thing of you, teacher."
"You didn't ask. I offered," Devika said, stepping closer. The words felt strange on her lips, yet something about Dattu's vulnerability emboldened her. "It's not good to be sad on your birthday."
She moved beside him, the jasmine scent of her perfume filling the space between them. "Let's cut the cake together."
Dattu looked up at her, his expression torn between hesitation and longing. After a moment, he nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tentative smile.
"Stand closer," Vishnu directed, producing his phone. "Like a real couple."
Devika positioned herself next to Dattu, their shoulders touching. The warmth of his body radiated through the new blue shirt she'd given him. His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the knife.
"Like this," Devika murmured, placing her hand over his on the knife handle. Together, they leaned forward to blow out the candle, their faces momentarily inches apart. Vishnu's phone camera clicked repeatedly, capturing the moment.
The flame extinguished, they pressed the knife through the chocolate layers. Dattu's tension seemed to melt as they completed this simple ritual together. Vishnu applauded enthusiastically.
"Now feed each other," he prompted, still taking photos. "Like at a wedding."
Devika broke off a small piece of cake, her fingers trembling slightly as she raised it to Dattu's lips. His eyes never left hers as his mouth opened, accepting the offering. The tips of her fingers brushed his lips, the contact sending an unexpected shiver through her body.
Dattu returned the gesture, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he offered her a piece. The sweetness of chocolate filled her mouth as she accepted it, aware of his intense gaze following the movement of her lips.
"Happy birthday, Father," Vishnu said, breaking the moment as he too fed his father a piece of cake. Then, to Devika's surprise, he held out another piece for her. "And for our special guest."
The familial intimacy of the moment was disconcerting. Devika accepted the cake from Vishnu, acutely conscious of both men watching her every movement. Father and son, their attention entirely focused on her.
"Thank you for making this birthday special," Dattu said, his voice lower, rougher than before. His hand found hers under the table, squeezing it briefly. "It means more than you know."
Devika nodded, unable to form words as Dattu's thumb traced small circles on her palm before releasing it. The simple touch left her breathless, confused by her own reaction.
Across the table, Vishnu smiled as he put his phone away, satisfied with the photos he'd captured. His eyes met his father's in another silent exchange that left Devika feeling like an outsider witnessing a private conversation.
"More cake?" Vishnu offered, breaking the moment. "Or perhaps some music? Father loves old Hindi songs."
As Vishnu moved to connect his phone to a small speaker, Devika caught Dattu watching her, his expression no longer sad but something more complex—gratitude mixed with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Happy birthday," she whispered again, unsure what else to say in this strange tableau they'd created—the pretend wife, the grieving husband, and the son orchestrating their performance with calculated precision.
"Let's take some proper photos now," Vishnu suggested, positioning his phone on the table. "Father, stand with your new wife."
Dattu moved beside Devika, hesitant yet eager. He glanced at her, a silent question in his eyes.
"It's alright," Devika said softly, giving him a small smile of permission.
Emboldened, Dattu stepped closer, his weathered hands finding their way to her waist. The weight of his touch was firm yet cautious, his calloused fingers pressing gently against the thin chiffon of her saree. Devika held herself perfectly still, aware of each point where his body connected with hers.
"Perfect!" Vishnu exclaimed, capturing several shots. "Now, let's take a selfie together. Family style."
Before Devika could process his words, Vishnu had joined them, positioning himself on her other side. She found herself sandwiched between father and son, Vishnu's arm snaking around her waist without hesitation. His fingers rested just below Dattu's, creating a strange symmetry of touch.
Devika drew in a sharp breath, the novel sensation of two men's hands on her waist simultaneously sending an unexpected tremor through her body. Father and son, their body heat enveloping her from both sides, their grip possessive yet careful.
"Smile!" Vishnu directed, extending his arm to capture the image.
The flash momentarily blinded her. When it cleared, Vishnu was examining the photo with satisfaction.
"Father, why don't you feed Devika more cake? It's delicious, isn't it, madam?"
Devika nodded, though she'd barely tasted the first piece. Something felt different—a warmth spreading through her limbs, a heightened awareness of every sensation. As Dattu broke off another piece of cake, her mouth watered inexplicably.
"Open," he instructed gently, holding the cake to her lips.
Devika parted her lips, accepting the sweet offering. As she chewed, an unusual heat bloomed low in her abdomen, spreading outward in waves. Her heartbeat quickened, skin suddenly hypersensitive to the air around her.
"Let's make it more special," Vishnu suggested, his voice seeming to come from far away. "Father, hug her while you feed her."
Before Dattu could move, Devika found herself leaning toward him, her body acting of its own accord. Their eyes locked in mutual surprise at her eagerness. Dattu recovered quickly, his arm encircling her shoulders as he offered another piece of cake. This time when his fingers brushed her lips, she felt an almost electric current pass between them.
"These photos are too formal," Vishnu complained, studying his phone screen. "We need more romantic shots. Devika madam, how about a kiss on your husband's cheek?"
A part of her mind registered the strangeness of the request, but it was overwhelmed by a new, insistent desire for contact. With only token hesitation, Devika leaned in, pressing her crimson-stained lips against Dattu's weathered cheek. His beard tickled her face, rough yet not unpleasant.
Dattu closed his eyes, savoring the moment with visible pleasure. "Heaven," he whispered, so quietly only she could hear.
"Now it's Father's turn," Vishnu announced, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Dattu turned to face her fully, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. Without waiting for permission, he pressed his lips firmly against hers. The kiss was neither gentle nor rough—simply hungry, desperate with long-denied need.
"Perfect," Vishnu murmured. "Now for the family portrait."
He set his phone on a shelf, activating the timer. "Let me show how a son and husband both adore the woman of the house."
Before Devika could comprehend his meaning, Vishnu had returned to her side. Father and son embraced her from either side, their arms forming a cage of male attention around her slender frame.
"Look at the camera," Vishnu instructed, then whispered something to his father.
In perfect synchronization, they leaned in—Dattu's lips pressing against her right cheek, Vishnu's against her left. The dual sensation froze Devika in place, her mind struggling to process the intimate tableau they created. Both men's lips lingered, warm and insistent against her skin, as the camera flashed repeatedly.
She stood trapped between them, the strange heat in her body intensifying with each heartbeat, each breath drawing in their mingled scents. Father and son, their shared desire wrapping around her like a tangible force as the camera captured what appeared to be a perfect family moment.
"Time to cut the cake, Father," Vishnu announced, placing a single candle in the center and lighting it with a match. The flame danced, casting flickering shadows across their faces.
Dattu stared at the cake, his expression suddenly distant. His weathered hand reached for the knife but stopped midway. His shoulders began to tremble, and to Devika's surprise, tears welled in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" Devika asked, alarmed by the sudden change. "Dattu?"
Vishnu touched her elbow gently. "Madam, can you come with me for a moment?" His voice was hushed with concern.
Confused, Devika followed him into the small bedroom off the main living area. The space was sparse—a single bed with a faded quilt, a wooden chair, and photos of a woman Devika presumed was Vishnu's mother taped to the wall.
"I'm sorry about that," Vishnu said, closing the door partway. "Every birthday is like this. It's when he misses my mother the most."
"I didn't realize," Devika murmured, feeling like an intruder. "Perhaps I should leave. This seems like a family moment."
"No, please." Vishnu stepped closer, his eyes earnest. "Actually, I had a thought—it might sound strange but..."
"What is it?" Devika prompted when he hesitated.
"My father hasn't celebrated properly since my mother passed. He needs someone..." Vishnu paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "Madam, if you don't mind, could you replace my mother's place? Just for tonight?"
Devika stared at him, uncomprehending. "Replace your mother?"
"Just for the cake cutting," Vishnu clarified quickly. "Stand beside him where she would have stood. Help him blow out the candle. It would mean everything to him."
Pathan's words about the father and son from the explicit video flashed unbidden through Devika's mind. She pushed the thought away, feeling heat rise to her face.
"I don't know if that's appropriate," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Please, madam." Vishnu's eyes were pleading now. "Just for this birthday. Give him company as his wife until we finish the celebration. He'll be happy again, I promise."
Devika glanced toward the partially open door, where she could see Dattu sitting motionless before the cake, shoulders slumped in defeat. Something in his vulnerability touched her—this gruff man reduced to tears by memory and loneliness.
"Alright," she conceded hesitantly. "If it will help him enjoy his birthday."
Relief flooded Vishnu's face. "Thank you, madam. You are too kind."
They returned to find Dattu wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Vishnu approached his father, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Father, don't cry. I have good news." He gestured toward Devika. "You have a new wife today."
Dattu looked up, genuine surprise crossing his features as his gaze settled on Devika.
"Just for tonight," Devika added quickly, her heart racing. "For your birthday celebration. You can... think of me as your wife."
Dattu shook his head slightly. "No, no. I couldn't ask such a thing of you, teacher."
"You didn't ask. I offered," Devika said, stepping closer. The words felt strange on her lips, yet something about Dattu's vulnerability emboldened her. "It's not good to be sad on your birthday."
She moved beside him, the jasmine scent of her perfume filling the space between them. "Let's cut the cake together."
Dattu looked up at her, his expression torn between hesitation and longing. After a moment, he nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tentative smile.
"Stand closer," Vishnu directed, producing his phone. "Like a real couple."
Devika positioned herself next to Dattu, their shoulders touching. The warmth of his body radiated through the new blue shirt she'd given him. His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the knife.
"Like this," Devika murmured, placing her hand over his on the knife handle. Together, they leaned forward to blow out the candle, their faces momentarily inches apart. Vishnu's phone camera clicked repeatedly, capturing the moment.
The flame extinguished, they pressed the knife through the chocolate layers. Dattu's tension seemed to melt as they completed this simple ritual together. Vishnu applauded enthusiastically.
"Now feed each other," he prompted, still taking photos. "Like at a wedding."
Devika broke off a small piece of cake, her fingers trembling slightly as she raised it to Dattu's lips. His eyes never left hers as his mouth opened, accepting the offering. The tips of her fingers brushed his lips, the contact sending an unexpected shiver through her body.
Dattu returned the gesture, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he offered her a piece. The sweetness of chocolate filled her mouth as she accepted it, aware of his intense gaze following the movement of her lips.
"Happy birthday, Father," Vishnu said, breaking the moment as he too fed his father a piece of cake. Then, to Devika's surprise, he held out another piece for her. "And for our special guest."
The familial intimacy of the moment was disconcerting. Devika accepted the cake from Vishnu, acutely conscious of both men watching her every movement. Father and son, their attention entirely focused on her.
"Thank you for making this birthday special," Dattu said, his voice lower, rougher than before. His hand found hers under the table, squeezing it briefly. "It means more than you know."
Devika nodded, unable to form words as Dattu's thumb traced small circles on her palm before releasing it. The simple touch left her breathless, confused by her own reaction.
Across the table, Vishnu smiled as he put his phone away, satisfied with the photos he'd captured. His eyes met his father's in another silent exchange that left Devika feeling like an outsider witnessing a private conversation.
"More cake?" Vishnu offered, breaking the moment. "Or perhaps some music? Father loves old Hindi songs."
As Vishnu moved to connect his phone to a small speaker, Devika caught Dattu watching her, his expression no longer sad but something more complex—gratitude mixed with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Happy birthday," she whispered again, unsure what else to say in this strange tableau they'd created—the pretend wife, the grieving husband, and the son orchestrating their performance with calculated precision.
"Let's take some proper photos now," Vishnu suggested, positioning his phone on the table. "Father, stand with your new wife."
Dattu moved beside Devika, hesitant yet eager. He glanced at her, a silent question in his eyes.
"It's alright," Devika said softly, giving him a small smile of permission.
Emboldened, Dattu stepped closer, his weathered hands finding their way to her waist. The weight of his touch was firm yet cautious, his calloused fingers pressing gently against the thin chiffon of her saree. Devika held herself perfectly still, aware of each point where his body connected with hers.
"Perfect!" Vishnu exclaimed, capturing several shots. "Now, let's take a selfie together. Family style."
Before Devika could process his words, Vishnu had joined them, positioning himself on her other side. She found herself sandwiched between father and son, Vishnu's arm snaking around her waist without hesitation. His fingers rested just below Dattu's, creating a strange symmetry of touch.
Devika drew in a sharp breath, the novel sensation of two men's hands on her waist simultaneously sending an unexpected tremor through her body. Father and son, their body heat enveloping her from both sides, their grip possessive yet careful.
"Smile!" Vishnu directed, extending his arm to capture the image.
The flash momentarily blinded her. When it cleared, Vishnu was examining the photo with satisfaction.
"Father, why don't you feed Devika more cake? It's delicious, isn't it, madam?"
Devika nodded, though she'd barely tasted the first piece. Something felt different—a warmth spreading through her limbs, a heightened awareness of every sensation. As Dattu broke off another piece of cake, her mouth watered inexplicably.
"Open," he instructed gently, holding the cake to her lips.
Devika parted her lips, accepting the sweet offering. As she chewed, an unusual heat bloomed low in her abdomen, spreading outward in waves. Her heartbeat quickened, skin suddenly hypersensitive to the air around her.
"Let's make it more special," Vishnu suggested, his voice seeming to come from far away. "Father, hug her while you feed her."
Before Dattu could move, Devika found herself leaning toward him, her body acting of its own accord. Their eyes locked in mutual surprise at her eagerness. Dattu recovered quickly, his arm encircling her shoulders as he offered another piece of cake. This time when his fingers brushed her lips, she felt an almost electric current pass between them.
"These photos are too formal," Vishnu complained, studying his phone screen. "We need more romantic shots. Devika madam, how about a kiss on your husband's cheek?"
A part of her mind registered the strangeness of the request, but it was overwhelmed by a new, insistent desire for contact. With only token hesitation, Devika leaned in, pressing her crimson-stained lips against Dattu's weathered cheek. His beard tickled her face, rough yet not unpleasant.
Dattu closed his eyes, savoring the moment with visible pleasure. "Heaven," he whispered, so quietly only she could hear.
"Now it's Father's turn," Vishnu announced, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Dattu turned to face her fully, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. Without waiting for permission, he pressed his lips firmly against hers. The kiss was neither gentle nor rough—simply hungry, desperate with long-denied need.
"Perfect," Vishnu murmured. "Now for the family portrait."
He set his phone on a shelf, activating the timer. "Let me show how a son and husband both adore the woman of the house."
Before Devika could comprehend his meaning, Vishnu had returned to her side. Father and son embraced her from either side, their arms forming a cage of male attention around her slender frame.
"Look at the camera," Vishnu instructed, then whispered something to his father.
In perfect synchronization, they leaned in—Dattu's lips pressing against her right cheek, Vishnu's against her left. The dual sensation froze Devika in place, her mind struggling to process the intimate tableau they created. Both men's lips lingered, warm and insistent against her skin, as the camera flashed repeatedly.
She stood trapped between them, the strange heat in her body intensifying with each heartbeat, each breath drawing in their mingled scents. Father and son, their shared desire wrapping around her like a tangible force as the camera captured what appeared to be a perfect family moment.
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