Adultery The Swamiji: The Ashram of the Sacred Angels

[shailu4ever]

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The stone paths stretched ahead, bathed in the silver light of lanterns hung along the way, casting faint shadows that seemed to stretch and shift like living things. As they walked, the soft hum of the forest rose around them.
 
The distant chirping of cicadas, the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze, and somewhere, far off, the low murmur of the river.
 
Ahalya led the way almost unconsciously. The others followed, gravitating toward her as if drawn by her quiet certainty, the subtle aura of strength she carried, which had already begun to shape the rhythm of this new world.
 
She wasn’t trying to be a leader. She wasn’t trying to stand out. It just happened, as if everything around her was aligned to her presence.
 
Kavya, who had been the most nervous, spoke again, her voice still soft, but a little less uncertain.
 
“Do you think we’ll be able to manage?” she asked, her eyes flickering to Ahalya’s. There was a hopeful vulnerability in her voice, and Ahalya could hear the fear beneath the surface, as though Kavya wasn’t asking for an answer, but for reassurance.
 
Ahalya’s smile was small but confident, a protective gesture that spoke of more than just words. She shrugged lightly, her voice a quiet whisper, like a soft breeze.
 
“We’ll learn,” she said. “Just… take it one step at a time.”
 
The youngest girl, her eyes wide with uncertainty, tried to match Ahalya’s stride but stumbled slightly, her foot catching the edge of the stone path. Without thinking, Ahalya reached out instinctively, brushing her shoulder with a gentle touch to steady her.
 
The action was casual, yet it was enough to calm the girl, her nervous expression softening into something like relief. Ahalya was always watching, always noticing those around her.
 
Another girl, the quiet one who had barely spoken, broke the silence with a soft, hesitant voice.
 
“I’m scared I’ll do something wrong,” she whispered, clutching her bag tightly to her chest as if it were a lifeline.
 
Ahalya looked at her, her eyes soft with understanding. She noticed the way the girl’s hands trembled. It was more than fear of the Ashram. There was a deeper anxiety, a fear of inadequacy that Ahalya could relate to in a distant way.

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