Me(Sonalika) - How I love my Father in law(3 Videos) - Scene 9 - Gold*

[ashuezy2]

Scene 4

Night, the same day
The house was dark and under the heavy silence of a Meerut night. 

I stood in the hallway, barefoot. I was wearing my old cotton nightie - thin, transparent in places, clinging to my body. My hair was open, flowing down my back. My heart was beating loud and I was terrified.

The silver thali was washed and put away. Dinner was served. Hitesh, my brother-in-law, was snoring in his corner. Lokesh would reach home tomorrow evening, from the dusty Gurgaon bus, expecting his wife warm and waiting.

I walked five steps one way, five steps back, wringing my hands. I had let Babuji kiss me. No. I had kissed him back. I had opened my mouth, let his tongue inside, moaned into it, pressed my breasts into his hands like I was starving for him. I had let him claim me.

What have I done? The panic clawed at my throat. Tomorrow Lokesh will be here. One look at my face and he’ll know. He will see the guilt stamped on my forehead. If he finds out… he will beat me black and blue. He will throw me out. He will burn this house down.

I am destroying my marriage. I am destroying everything.

I stopped in front of Babuji’s door. A thin line of yellow light glowed underneath. He was awake. I had to stop this. I had to tell him it was a mistake. We had to bury today in the grave of yesterday.
My hand hovered over the latch. I couldn’t knock; Ma-ji’s room was only two doors away. I pushed the door gently. It opened without a sound.

Babuji was sitting on the bed, a small bulb beside him casting long shadows. He was reading an old newspaper. He looked up the moment I slipped inside and pressed the door shut behind me.

His eyes didn't look surprised. They softened first, then turned hot—that same predatory form from the afternoon. He scanned me, his gaze lingering on how the light shone through the thin fabric of my nightie, outlining my legs.

"Arrey… my love, you came. You remembered Babuji even at night?"

He kept his voice low, teasing, dangerous.

I stayed near the door, arms wrapped around myself to hide my body, whispering frantically.
"Babuji… whatever happened today… it was wrong. Very wrong."

I took a shaky breath. "Tomorrow Lokesh will be back. If he finds out… he will kill both of us. He will burn the house down. Please… nothing like this should ever happen again. I will only come to feed you… nothing more."

My voice broke. Tears pricked my eyes. I felt small and terrified.

He put the newspaper away slowly. He didn't look scared. He looked like a man holding a winning hand of cards. He patted the bed right in front of him.

"Come close. Sit. Stop crying." 
I didn't move. He smiled, that soft, sticky smile that had melted my resolve this afternoon.

"Lokesh will come tomorrow, fine. But tonight only we two are here, right? Just sit once… look at Babuji… what will go 
wrong?" 

His voice was warm sliding over my fear. I don’t know how my feet moved, perhaps my body obeyed him before my mind did, but suddenly I was sitting on the edge of the bed, two feet away from him, clutching my nightie at the knees.

He reached out slowly and took my cold hand in his warm, rough hand. He pulled it to his lips, kissing the knuckles.
"Sonalika… listen. Lokesh is my son. I understand him more than you. He is living his life in Gurgaon… busy with work, busy with the world. And you? You are dying alone here."

He squeezed my hand. "What we are doing… it’s not wrong. This is love. A love that has to be hidden. What does the world have to do with it?"

His thumb began to stroke my knuckles in slow, hypnotic circles. "Tomorrow when he comes… you will laugh with him, eat with him, sleep with him. But when he leaves again… you will come to Babuji. Not just to feed… to give everything. Because Babuji is now living only for you."

His words wrapped around my heart. The fear was still there, but it was smaller now, pushed aside by the gravity of his need. He tugged my hand gently. I slid closer without thinking. The mattress dipped, bringing our bodies within inches.

He cupped my cheek, his rough palm scratching pleasantly against my skin. He wiped a stray tear with his thumb and leaned in until his lips brushed my ear.

"Now stop crying, my queen. Give one small kiss… just a goodnight kiss. Then go sleep. Come feed me in the morning." 

I turned my face. It wasn't a choice anymore. Our lips met—soft, slow, lingering. He tasted of sweet paan, sleep, and safety. I didn't pull away. I let the kiss happen. I even kissed back a little, my lips parting slightly to let him taste me.

When we broke apart, he smiled, his eyes twinkling with a naughty satisfaction. "You are very cute. Good night, my love."

I stood up and walked to the door and slipped out without a sound. Back in the dark hallway, the silence felt different. It wasn't heavy anymore; it was conspiratorial.

I pressed my fingers to my lips. Tomorrow Lokesh would be home. Tomorrow night I would lie beside my husband, play the role of the dutiful wife. But the morning after… I already knew whose room I would walk into with the silver thali. And I knew, with a terrifying certainty, that I wouldn't be wearing a bra under my blouse for him.