10-01-2026, 12:08 PM
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, pulling Devika from sleep at half past eight. She blinked against the brightness, disoriented for a moment before memory flooded back—the midnight messages, Pathan's bike, Pawna Lake at sunset.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
"What was I thinking?" she whispered to the empty bedroom.
But even as guilt tugged at her conscience, anticipation fluttered low in her belly. Four o'clock. She had hours to prepare, to convince herself this was innocent sightseeing and nothing more.
The morning passed in a blur of nervous energy. Devika showered longer than necessary, scrubbing her skin until it glowed pink. She ate breakfast without tasting it, pushed lecture notes around her desk without reading them, checked her phone obsessively for messages that didn't come.
By noon, restlessness drove her to the kitchen. She prepared lunch mechanically—rice, sambar, vegetable thoran—the familiar Kerala flavors offering small comfort. But each bite sat heavy in her stomach, weighed down by anticipation and apprehension in equal measure.
At three o'clock, her phone buzzed.
Pathan: Getting ready now, ma'am. Will reach by 4.
Devika stared at the message, her heart accelerating. This was real. Happening. In one hour she would climb onto his motorcycle and ride away from everything safe and familiar.
Devika: Ok.
She moved to the bedroom with trembling hands. The wardrobe stood before her, filled with conservative salwar kameez sets and modest sarees in muted tones. For a moment she reached for her usual choice—a simple cotton saree in pale blue, the kind she wore to temple visits and family gatherings.
Then her fingers shifted, landing on silk in deep burgundy.
The saree slid through her hands like water, the fabric whispering promises of transformation. She hadn't worn this one since moving to Pune—it had seemed too bold, too attention-seeking for a college professor trying to maintain professional boundaries.
But those boundaries had already shattered.
Devika dbangd the saree with practiced efficiency, pleating it at her waist and securing it low on her hips—the Pune style Saradha had taught her. Each fold revealed more skin, the gap between blouse hem and saree edge growing wider until several inches of her midriff lay exposed.
The blouse came next. Sleeveless. Deep-cut in back. She'd bought it on impulse during a shopping trip with Saradha, then hidden it at the back of her drawer, too scandalized to actually wear it.
Now she pulled it on, adjusting the fit across her breasts, feeling the air kiss her bare shoulders and arms. The mirror reflected someone unfamiliar—a woman who looked like she was preparing for a date rather than an educational outing.
Makeup followed. Kajal darkening her eyes. Lipstick in deep rose. A bindi perfectly centered. Small gold earrings catching the light.
By the time four o'clock approached, Devika barely recognized herself.
Her phone buzzed again.
Pathan: Reached the college gate.
Devika: Coming.
She grabbed her purse, locked the apartment door, and descended the stairs with her heart hammering against her ribs. Each step felt momentous, carrying her toward a precipice she couldn't quite see but knew existed just ahead.
The college gate came into view. Pathan stood beside his motorcycle, checking his phone, oblivious to her approach. He wore jeans and a fitted black shirt that emphasized his lean frame, his hair carefully styled instead of the usual disheveled mess.
He'd dressed up too.
The realization sent a nervous thrill through Devika's chest.
Pathan looked up as she approached. His eyes widened, jaw going slack as he took in the full picture—the silk saree hugging her curves, the exposed midriff gleaming in late afternoon sun, her bare arms moving with unconscious grace.
His gaze traveled slowly downward, lingering on her waist where the saree sat dangerously low, then sliding along her sleeveless blouse to shoulders that had never been so brazenly displayed.
Devika stopped a few feet away, watching him process her transformation. A smile tugged at her lips despite her nervousness.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
"Nothing." The word came out strangled. Pathan cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away with visible effort. "You... you look beautiful, ma'am."
"Thank you."
The formal exchange couldn't hide the electricity crackling between them. Devika moved closer, her saree rustling with each step, and gestured toward the bike.
"Should we go?"
"Yes. Yes, of course." Pathan fumbled with the helmet, nearly dropping it before managing to hand it to her. "Here."
Devika secured the helmet, then paused beside the motorcycle. Getting on would require hiking her saree up, revealing her legs, pressing her body against Pathan's back. The intimacy of it made her breath catch.
But she'd come this far.
With practiced grace born of months riding her own scooter, Devika climbed onto the bike's pillion seat. The saree rode up to mid-thigh, silk pooling around her knees. She reached forward, wrapping her arms around Pathan's waist, her palms flat against his stomach.
The position pressed her breasts against his back, her thighs bracketing his hips. Heat radiated between them despite the layers of clothing.
Pathan's entire body tensed at the contact. He turned his head slightly, voice rough when he spoke.
"Comfortable?"
"Yes." Devika's lips were inches from his ear. "Let's go."
The motorcycle roared to life. Pathan pulled onto the road with careful control, navigating through Pune's evening traffic while Devika clung to him like a lover rather than a teacher.
They rode in silence for several minutes, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads lined with trees. Wind whipped at Devika's saree, pulling strands of hair loose from her braid. She tightened her grip on Pathan's waist, allowing herself to relax into the motion.
"Ma'am?" Pathan's voice barely carried over the engine noise.
"Yes?"
"Today is my birthday."
Devika's arms tightened reflexively. "Your birthday? Really?"
"Yes. I'm feeling so great spending it like this."
Emotion swelled in Devika's chest—part tenderness, part guilt. He'd chosen to spend his birthday with her. Not friends his own age, not celebrating at the hostel with cheap liquor and loud music. With her.
"Happy birthday, Pathan," she said softly, her lips close enough to his ear that he shivered.
"Thank you, ma'am."
They rode in silence for another kilometer before Devika spoke again.
"It won't be nice if you're not having cake cutting on your birthday."
"It's okay—"
"No." She squeezed his waist firmly. "Stop at the next cake shop you see."
Pathan slowed the bike, surprise evident in his posture. "Ma'am, you don't need to—"
"I want to."
The simple declaration silenced his protests. Within minutes they'd pulled up outside a small bakery, its windows displaying colorful confections. Devika dismounted gracefully despite the restrictive saree, ignoring the curious stares of passersby who clearly wondered about the elegant woman with the young man on the motorcycle.
Inside, she selected a small chocolate cake decorated with simple white frosting. The baker boxed it efficiently while Pathan stood beside her, stunned into silence.
"We'll celebrate your birthday at the lake," Devika announced, paying before he could protest. "Under the stars."
Pathan's eyes blazed with something beyond gratitude—something hungry and desperate and barely controlled.
"Thank you," he managed. "This... no one's done anything like this for me before."
The confession twisted something in Devika's chest. She handed him the cake box, their fingers brushing in the exchange.
"Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday."
They returned to the bike, the cake secured carefully in the compartment. This time when Devika wrapped her arms around Pathan's waist, she allowed herself to press closer, her cheek resting against his shoulder blade as they continued toward Pawna Lake.
The sun hung low on the horizon when they finally arrived, painting the water in shades of amber and rose. Devika dismounted stiffly, her legs protesting the long ride, and removed her helmet with shaking hands.
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
The lake stretched before them like a mirror, reflecting sky and clouds with perfect clarity. Hills rose in the distance, their silhouettes dark against the fading light. Few people wandered the shore—mostly couples seeking privacy, families packing up after day trips.
Pathan retrieved the cake, then gestured toward a path leading along the water's edge.
"Come. I'll show you the best spots."
They walked side by side, Devika's saree trailing slightly on the dusty ground. Pathan pointed out landmarks—the camping area where city dwellers pretended at roughing it, the boat rental stand closing for the evening, a small temple perched on the hillside.
Devika drank it all in, grateful for the distraction from the awareness humming between them. His presence beside her felt different out here, away from college hierarchies and professional expectations. Just a man and a woman, walking together as evening deepened to dusk.
By nine o'clock, darkness had fallen completely. Stars scattered across the sky like diamonds, their light joining the full moon's silver glow. The lake transformed into something ethereal, its surface gleaming beneath celestial illumination.
"We should head back soon," Devika said reluctantly. "It's getting late."
Pathan checked his watch, then glanced toward the entrance gate. "Let me just—"
He stopped mid-sentence. Devika followed his gaze and felt her stomach drop.
The gate stood closed. Locked. A heavy chain securing it against intruders.
"No," Pathan breathed. "They locked us in."
Devika hurried toward the entrance, her heart racing. She rattled the gate uselessly, peering through the bars at the empty guard station beyond.
"The gatekeeper must have left without seeing us," Pathan said from behind her. His voice carried appropriate distress, though something in his tone rang false. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. This is my fault."
"Do you have your phone?" Devika asked. "We can call someone—"
"I left it in the bike's compartment outside the gate." Pathan gestured helplessly at the motorcycle visible on the other side of the locked entrance. "I didn't think we'd need it inside."
Devika pulled out her own phone, but the screen showed minimal signal—one wavering bar that disappeared even as she watched.
"The tower coverage is weak here," Pathan explained. "Hills block the signal."
She tried calling anyway. The phone failed to connect, displaying an error message that mocked her growing panic.
Or was it panic?
Devika examined her own reaction carefully. Her pulse raced, yes, and worry creased her brow. But beneath those appropriate responses, something else stirred—a dark thrill at being trapped here with Pathan, away from judgment and consequence.
"I'm so worried," she said aloud, testing how the words felt. They came out uncertain, unconvincing even to her own ears.
"I'm really sorry, ma'am." Pathan moved closer, his distress appearing genuine enough. "This is all my fault. I should have been more careful about the time."
"Stop worrying." Devika turned to face him, her expression softening. "We'll just stay inside until someone comes to open the gate."
"But..." Pathan glanced around at the darkness surrounding them. "No one usually comes at night. The gate won't open again until morning."
He delivered this information with appropriate dismay, but Devika caught the calculating gleam in his eyes—there for just a moment before he shuttered it behind concern.
Understanding clicked into place. The convenient phone left outside. The weak cell signal. The gatekeeper locking up without checking for stragglers.
This wasn't an accident.
Pathan had planned this. Paid the gatekeeper probably, ensuring they'd be trapped here overnight.
The realization should have angered her. Should have sent her scrambling for escape routes or screaming for help despite the isolation.
Instead, warmth pooled low in her belly.
He wanted her badly enough to orchestrate this elaborate trap. The knowledge sent power surging through her veins—not the helpless vulnerability of a victim, but the intoxicating awareness of being desired so desperately that a man would resort to schemes.
"It's okay," she heard herself say. "We can stay here tonight."
Pathan's eyes widened. "Ma'am, I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking. I'm deciding." Devika straightened her shoulders, channeling the confidence Saradha had been coaching into her for weeks. "There's no point panicking about something we can't change. Besides..." She gestured at the moonlit lake, the stars overhead. "It's beautiful here. Not the worst place to be stranded."
"I'm so sorry for troubling you like this."
The apology rang hollow now that she'd understood his deception. But Devika chose to accept it at face value, playing along with the fiction they were constructing together.
"Stop being sad, birthday boy." She moved closer, close enough that he could smell the jasmine in her hair. "Let's celebrate your birthday here near the lake. Cut your cake under the full moonlight."
The transformation in Pathan's expression was immediate and profound. Sorrow melted into heat, his eyes traveling slowly down her body—lingering on exposed waist, bare shoulders, the curves her saree both revealed and concealed.
Under the moon's blue-white glow, Devika's beauty intensified to something almost otherworldly. Her brown skin gleamed silver, her dark eyes reflecting starlight. The burgundy saree looked black in the darkness, making her seem to emerge from shadow itself—a goddess manifesting for a mortal's birthday wish.
Pathan swallowed hard, his voice rough when he finally spoke.
"You look... I can't even describe how beautiful you are right now."
Devika smiled—not the modest, demure expression of a conservative Kerala wife, but something bolder. Knowing.
"Then don't describe it." She held out her hand. "Show me where we can celebrate."
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
"What was I thinking?" she whispered to the empty bedroom.
But even as guilt tugged at her conscience, anticipation fluttered low in her belly. Four o'clock. She had hours to prepare, to convince herself this was innocent sightseeing and nothing more.
The morning passed in a blur of nervous energy. Devika showered longer than necessary, scrubbing her skin until it glowed pink. She ate breakfast without tasting it, pushed lecture notes around her desk without reading them, checked her phone obsessively for messages that didn't come.
By noon, restlessness drove her to the kitchen. She prepared lunch mechanically—rice, sambar, vegetable thoran—the familiar Kerala flavors offering small comfort. But each bite sat heavy in her stomach, weighed down by anticipation and apprehension in equal measure.
At three o'clock, her phone buzzed.
Pathan: Getting ready now, ma'am. Will reach by 4.
Devika stared at the message, her heart accelerating. This was real. Happening. In one hour she would climb onto his motorcycle and ride away from everything safe and familiar.
Devika: Ok.
She moved to the bedroom with trembling hands. The wardrobe stood before her, filled with conservative salwar kameez sets and modest sarees in muted tones. For a moment she reached for her usual choice—a simple cotton saree in pale blue, the kind she wore to temple visits and family gatherings.
Then her fingers shifted, landing on silk in deep burgundy.
The saree slid through her hands like water, the fabric whispering promises of transformation. She hadn't worn this one since moving to Pune—it had seemed too bold, too attention-seeking for a college professor trying to maintain professional boundaries.
But those boundaries had already shattered.
Devika dbangd the saree with practiced efficiency, pleating it at her waist and securing it low on her hips—the Pune style Saradha had taught her. Each fold revealed more skin, the gap between blouse hem and saree edge growing wider until several inches of her midriff lay exposed.
The blouse came next. Sleeveless. Deep-cut in back. She'd bought it on impulse during a shopping trip with Saradha, then hidden it at the back of her drawer, too scandalized to actually wear it.
Now she pulled it on, adjusting the fit across her breasts, feeling the air kiss her bare shoulders and arms. The mirror reflected someone unfamiliar—a woman who looked like she was preparing for a date rather than an educational outing.
Makeup followed. Kajal darkening her eyes. Lipstick in deep rose. A bindi perfectly centered. Small gold earrings catching the light.
By the time four o'clock approached, Devika barely recognized herself.
Her phone buzzed again.
Pathan: Reached the college gate.
Devika: Coming.
She grabbed her purse, locked the apartment door, and descended the stairs with her heart hammering against her ribs. Each step felt momentous, carrying her toward a precipice she couldn't quite see but knew existed just ahead.
The college gate came into view. Pathan stood beside his motorcycle, checking his phone, oblivious to her approach. He wore jeans and a fitted black shirt that emphasized his lean frame, his hair carefully styled instead of the usual disheveled mess.
He'd dressed up too.
The realization sent a nervous thrill through Devika's chest.
Pathan looked up as she approached. His eyes widened, jaw going slack as he took in the full picture—the silk saree hugging her curves, the exposed midriff gleaming in late afternoon sun, her bare arms moving with unconscious grace.
His gaze traveled slowly downward, lingering on her waist where the saree sat dangerously low, then sliding along her sleeveless blouse to shoulders that had never been so brazenly displayed.
Devika stopped a few feet away, watching him process her transformation. A smile tugged at her lips despite her nervousness.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
"Nothing." The word came out strangled. Pathan cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away with visible effort. "You... you look beautiful, ma'am."
"Thank you."
The formal exchange couldn't hide the electricity crackling between them. Devika moved closer, her saree rustling with each step, and gestured toward the bike.
"Should we go?"
"Yes. Yes, of course." Pathan fumbled with the helmet, nearly dropping it before managing to hand it to her. "Here."
Devika secured the helmet, then paused beside the motorcycle. Getting on would require hiking her saree up, revealing her legs, pressing her body against Pathan's back. The intimacy of it made her breath catch.
But she'd come this far.
With practiced grace born of months riding her own scooter, Devika climbed onto the bike's pillion seat. The saree rode up to mid-thigh, silk pooling around her knees. She reached forward, wrapping her arms around Pathan's waist, her palms flat against his stomach.
The position pressed her breasts against his back, her thighs bracketing his hips. Heat radiated between them despite the layers of clothing.
Pathan's entire body tensed at the contact. He turned his head slightly, voice rough when he spoke.
"Comfortable?"
"Yes." Devika's lips were inches from his ear. "Let's go."
The motorcycle roared to life. Pathan pulled onto the road with careful control, navigating through Pune's evening traffic while Devika clung to him like a lover rather than a teacher.
They rode in silence for several minutes, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads lined with trees. Wind whipped at Devika's saree, pulling strands of hair loose from her braid. She tightened her grip on Pathan's waist, allowing herself to relax into the motion.
"Ma'am?" Pathan's voice barely carried over the engine noise.
"Yes?"
"Today is my birthday."
Devika's arms tightened reflexively. "Your birthday? Really?"
"Yes. I'm feeling so great spending it like this."
Emotion swelled in Devika's chest—part tenderness, part guilt. He'd chosen to spend his birthday with her. Not friends his own age, not celebrating at the hostel with cheap liquor and loud music. With her.
"Happy birthday, Pathan," she said softly, her lips close enough to his ear that he shivered.
"Thank you, ma'am."
They rode in silence for another kilometer before Devika spoke again.
"It won't be nice if you're not having cake cutting on your birthday."
"It's okay—"
"No." She squeezed his waist firmly. "Stop at the next cake shop you see."
Pathan slowed the bike, surprise evident in his posture. "Ma'am, you don't need to—"
"I want to."
The simple declaration silenced his protests. Within minutes they'd pulled up outside a small bakery, its windows displaying colorful confections. Devika dismounted gracefully despite the restrictive saree, ignoring the curious stares of passersby who clearly wondered about the elegant woman with the young man on the motorcycle.
Inside, she selected a small chocolate cake decorated with simple white frosting. The baker boxed it efficiently while Pathan stood beside her, stunned into silence.
"We'll celebrate your birthday at the lake," Devika announced, paying before he could protest. "Under the stars."
Pathan's eyes blazed with something beyond gratitude—something hungry and desperate and barely controlled.
"Thank you," he managed. "This... no one's done anything like this for me before."
The confession twisted something in Devika's chest. She handed him the cake box, their fingers brushing in the exchange.
"Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday."
They returned to the bike, the cake secured carefully in the compartment. This time when Devika wrapped her arms around Pathan's waist, she allowed herself to press closer, her cheek resting against his shoulder blade as they continued toward Pawna Lake.
The sun hung low on the horizon when they finally arrived, painting the water in shades of amber and rose. Devika dismounted stiffly, her legs protesting the long ride, and removed her helmet with shaking hands.
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
The lake stretched before them like a mirror, reflecting sky and clouds with perfect clarity. Hills rose in the distance, their silhouettes dark against the fading light. Few people wandered the shore—mostly couples seeking privacy, families packing up after day trips.
Pathan retrieved the cake, then gestured toward a path leading along the water's edge.
"Come. I'll show you the best spots."
They walked side by side, Devika's saree trailing slightly on the dusty ground. Pathan pointed out landmarks—the camping area where city dwellers pretended at roughing it, the boat rental stand closing for the evening, a small temple perched on the hillside.
Devika drank it all in, grateful for the distraction from the awareness humming between them. His presence beside her felt different out here, away from college hierarchies and professional expectations. Just a man and a woman, walking together as evening deepened to dusk.
By nine o'clock, darkness had fallen completely. Stars scattered across the sky like diamonds, their light joining the full moon's silver glow. The lake transformed into something ethereal, its surface gleaming beneath celestial illumination.
"We should head back soon," Devika said reluctantly. "It's getting late."
Pathan checked his watch, then glanced toward the entrance gate. "Let me just—"
He stopped mid-sentence. Devika followed his gaze and felt her stomach drop.
The gate stood closed. Locked. A heavy chain securing it against intruders.
"No," Pathan breathed. "They locked us in."
Devika hurried toward the entrance, her heart racing. She rattled the gate uselessly, peering through the bars at the empty guard station beyond.
"The gatekeeper must have left without seeing us," Pathan said from behind her. His voice carried appropriate distress, though something in his tone rang false. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. This is my fault."
"Do you have your phone?" Devika asked. "We can call someone—"
"I left it in the bike's compartment outside the gate." Pathan gestured helplessly at the motorcycle visible on the other side of the locked entrance. "I didn't think we'd need it inside."
Devika pulled out her own phone, but the screen showed minimal signal—one wavering bar that disappeared even as she watched.
"The tower coverage is weak here," Pathan explained. "Hills block the signal."
She tried calling anyway. The phone failed to connect, displaying an error message that mocked her growing panic.
Or was it panic?
Devika examined her own reaction carefully. Her pulse raced, yes, and worry creased her brow. But beneath those appropriate responses, something else stirred—a dark thrill at being trapped here with Pathan, away from judgment and consequence.
"I'm so worried," she said aloud, testing how the words felt. They came out uncertain, unconvincing even to her own ears.
"I'm really sorry, ma'am." Pathan moved closer, his distress appearing genuine enough. "This is all my fault. I should have been more careful about the time."
"Stop worrying." Devika turned to face him, her expression softening. "We'll just stay inside until someone comes to open the gate."
"But..." Pathan glanced around at the darkness surrounding them. "No one usually comes at night. The gate won't open again until morning."
He delivered this information with appropriate dismay, but Devika caught the calculating gleam in his eyes—there for just a moment before he shuttered it behind concern.
Understanding clicked into place. The convenient phone left outside. The weak cell signal. The gatekeeper locking up without checking for stragglers.
This wasn't an accident.
Pathan had planned this. Paid the gatekeeper probably, ensuring they'd be trapped here overnight.
The realization should have angered her. Should have sent her scrambling for escape routes or screaming for help despite the isolation.
Instead, warmth pooled low in her belly.
He wanted her badly enough to orchestrate this elaborate trap. The knowledge sent power surging through her veins—not the helpless vulnerability of a victim, but the intoxicating awareness of being desired so desperately that a man would resort to schemes.
"It's okay," she heard herself say. "We can stay here tonight."
Pathan's eyes widened. "Ma'am, I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking. I'm deciding." Devika straightened her shoulders, channeling the confidence Saradha had been coaching into her for weeks. "There's no point panicking about something we can't change. Besides..." She gestured at the moonlit lake, the stars overhead. "It's beautiful here. Not the worst place to be stranded."
"I'm so sorry for troubling you like this."
The apology rang hollow now that she'd understood his deception. But Devika chose to accept it at face value, playing along with the fiction they were constructing together.
"Stop being sad, birthday boy." She moved closer, close enough that he could smell the jasmine in her hair. "Let's celebrate your birthday here near the lake. Cut your cake under the full moonlight."
The transformation in Pathan's expression was immediate and profound. Sorrow melted into heat, his eyes traveling slowly down her body—lingering on exposed waist, bare shoulders, the curves her saree both revealed and concealed.
Under the moon's blue-white glow, Devika's beauty intensified to something almost otherworldly. Her brown skin gleamed silver, her dark eyes reflecting starlight. The burgundy saree looked black in the darkness, making her seem to emerge from shadow itself—a goddess manifesting for a mortal's birthday wish.
Pathan swallowed hard, his voice rough when he finally spoke.
"You look... I can't even describe how beautiful you are right now."
Devika smiled—not the modest, demure expression of a conservative Kerala wife, but something bolder. Knowing.
"Then don't describe it." She held out her hand. "Show me where we can celebrate."
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