Misc. Erotica After the Ashes

[krish_999]

Chapter 2

When Madhav woke up the next morning, he was surprised to find the blanket around him. He couldn't remember covering himself with it the previous night. But as he sat up, he first caught the scent of aromatic tea and then the sight of a teapot next to his bed. Now he remembered. It must be Anjali.
He poured tea into the cup and had a small sip from the steamy cup. A tiny smile formed on his lips, and he recollected that he hadn't felt like smiling like that in the morning for a while.
Anjali was in the kitchen, drying her hands. When their eyes met, there was a moment of quiet.
"Shalini didn't come today?" Madhav asked.
"I asked her to come late," Anjali said, forcing a smile along. "I felt like I should start my mornings myself."
"So, are you making something for breakfast?"
"I'm maknig idlis. I know you ate very little for dinner."
Madhav nodded. "You too."
Anjali didn't reply. She quietly came forward to collect the tea cup from his hand and went back to the sink. Madhav stood there for some time, watching her. Anjali was wearing a faded green kurti, the fadeness being a deliberate part of its design. The hair was tied up neately with a small towel to dry the wet hair. She had taken a shower already. Madhav couldn’t guess whether the fresh fragrance lingering in the air came from her shower gel or from herself.
They had breakfast together. Even though they didn't talk much, their silence didn't feel heavy anymore.
That afternoon, Madhav napped on the sofa while Anjali sat with a magazine by the window. She could not read much. She kept skipping the large articles and read only small columns. When she finished, she kept the magazine and looked at Madhav. She noticed how peaceful he looked in his sleep. It was far from the image she had in her mind, most of which was made by Vinayak in the past. Vinayak always told her heroic stories of his dad, one of the most impressive ones was about helping one of his office staff.
A married woman staff in his office was brutally beaten by her husband over dowry. By the time Madhav learned of the assault, the man had already fled the country. Madhav tracked him down in Sudan and sent his men there - not to bring him back, but to beat him up and leave him behind with a broken hand. The man was made to cry, beg for mercy and seek forgiveness from his wife over a video call.
Anjali wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t heard it from Vinayak himself. The fear and respect Vinayak carried for his father - despite Madhav never openly opposing his choices - were enough to tell her that there was far more to him than what he chose to display.
There were many stories. All of them made an easy impression of how he valued his business and the people who worked for him.
Anjali wondered how he had left all his work suddenly after Vinayak's death as if they never existed. Madhav visited his office, but never stuck to the time. He stayed there for a few hours a day. Some days, he even chose not to go. As if they didn't matter anymore. Anjali felt she still knew nothing of him. Perhaps he had cried a lot too much, for nothing is coming out of him now. Perhaps he hadn't cried enough, probably hiding a volcano behind his calm, lost demeanour.
And she felt she was right when she chose to stay with him. There has to be someone.
At night, before going to bed, she went to check Madhav. The window was open, and the curtains fluttered in the wind. Again, the blanket was at his feet. As Anjali approached him, she paused with fondness and felt a want to climb in, to wrap her arms around him. Not because she wanted to hug him, but just a desire to provide comfort and relief from the cold.
But she didn't. She slowly covered him with the blanket.
As more days passed, the house fell into a rhythm of routine and both of them began to feel better without anything happening. One day, Madhav decided to go to his office in the morning itself. Anjali was happy to see him getting ready at the regular time.
Madhav noticed her. "Do you want to come to my office?" He asked.
Anjali didn't know how to respond. "You should come, Anjali."
And she agreed.
It was the first time she was stepping into his business world. It was a company owned by him, exporting various products to foreign countries. His name was a brand with M as its stylish logo.
Madhav introduced her to his managers and led her through various sections of the company. She returned home at lunchtime. That evening, when Madhav came home, he asked her if she wanted to work.
"I won't fit in, Dad," she hesitated.
"From what I saw today, I have a different opinion." Madhav encouraged her.
The next day, she returned to his office. At first, she just watched everything, then she started organising files and making calls. On the third day, he involved her in a meeting and allowed her to share her ideas. It helped that she was an MBA graduate.
Madhav noticed her ability to stay calm all the time. On a particular occasion, he found her explaining a better way to overcome an obstacle to a supervisor with surprising confidence. When she finished and the man left the office, Madhav smiled at her.
"You're doing well," he told her. "Better than I thought possible."
Anjali smiled, "Just trying to do what Vinayak would have done.”
"He had told me you were a bright student, long ago" Madhav came forward to embrace her. "And he was right. I can't tell you what I'm feeling like. You give me energy to breathe again."
Anjalli was surprised by his warm gesture. She hugged him back, tight. "Thank you, Dad."
At home, she had found Sharadha's old recipe book, that had food stains on most of the pages. She looked up Madhav's favourite dish - the one she had heard about from Vinayak. The page obviously contained most food stains. Anjali cooked it that night.
When Madhav tasted the first bite, he stopped. "This... this was her recipe."
Anjali smiled and told him the truth. Madhav's eyes stayed on her. "Thank you," he said.
Days passed, filled with small gestures and small conversations - and they found their attachment growing.
Her parents Manohar and Kavya kept inviting her to his home regularly, and Anjali kept refusing. Her mother was a silent type who always stayed in Manohar's shadow. But she seemed less interested in bringing Anjali back to stay with them. There were two reasons. One, she had another daughter to care about. She thought the presence of a widowed sister in the house would hamper the prospects of a good relationship in the future. Two, Anjali's wedding to Vinayak was against the wishes of her parents. Vinayak was a junior in Anjali's college, and they could never accept their MBA graduate daughter getting married to a 'student'. It was another thing that by the time they gave the nod to their wedding, Vinayak had not only finished his MBA but also established his own business in Dubai - a subsediary venture of his dad's company. Anjali's mother was still of the opinion that full acceptance of Anjali would pass a wrong message to her sister and to their family. However, Anjali was happy with her mother's silence.
As days passed, Madhav started to stay back until the closing hours of the company, like in earlier times. Anjali returned home earlier. By the time Madhav would reach home, she would have freshened up and even added a side dish to the dinner. The main course would have been prepared already by Shalini.
One evening, Anjali waited on the couch for Madhav, and she dozed off. When he came, he found her curled up, phone loose in her hand. He stood there watching her chest slowly rising and falling as she breathed. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead and, though gentle, woke her up.
"You could have slept in the room, dear," he said.
Anjali gave a tired smile, "I was just waiting for you, Dad."
He reached for her hand as she sat up, steadying her.
It had started raining outside. He asked for coffee, and she brought two cups. They sat together on the balcony couch, rain breathing against the air. The cold air brushed against her sleevless arm and she ran her palm over it to keep warm. Her silky, soft, and straight hair danced with the wind.
Madhav pulled her gently closer. "I can't thank you enough. I would've survived all of that, but you know, with you, I feel alive, dear."
Anjali leaned into him. "Me too, Dad."
As he held her closer, his hand rested on her stomach, reaching from around. She was sure it was by accident. And it felt like comfort, not awkwardness.
The hot coffee could not outlive the rain, which made the night colder. Anjali sat close to him, it just felt better.
However, as she kept watching the rain, she found herself secretly wishing to be held just a little tighter.
Their conversations often ended with talking about either Vinayak or Sharadha. It means they always ended abruptly, one feeling pain and the other sighing. However, after Anjali joined Madhav's office, they seemed to find more topics to talk on. For a change, some conversations even ended up in laughter. And the fact that their office conversations were a continuation of what they paused at home, they started to feel private, shared only between the two of them. What once felt like a quiet company was turning into something deeper.
One evening, Anjali found Madhav lying on the couch silently but not sleeping. It felt like he was listening to something. Amused, Anjali turned to him.
"Sleeping or awake?"
Madhav smiled at her. "I'm actually listening to your footsteps. It is sort of music."
Anjali laughed aloud. Louder than she remembered for long.
"That's unintentional flirting." She mumbled as if to herself.
A few minutes later, Anjali brought tea to him. She came in quietly and set the cup down on the table. Madhav was still half asleep, and he noticed more than he usually let himself see - a full glimpse of her cleavage through the gap formed at her neckline as she bent down, the gentle curve of her body under the thin material of her dress, the soft swing of her hips as she moved. He was half asleep as to immediately startle himself, but he knew he had seen all of it at once, and as the visuals sunk deep into his head, he looked away deliberately, hoping she hadn't noticed. He ended up sitting up in his attempt to play it down, and Anjali, upon seeing him getting up handed the cup to him. Still, he couldn't ignore the feel of their fingers touching as he took the cup from her. Sudenly there was a sense of awkwardness in such simple touches. He knew he had seen what he shouldn't have.
The next day as they worked together in his office, as she snatched his mouse to show him a specific point on his desktop, he caught the same old fragrance from her, and became more assured that it was of her body, not from shower gel. Madhav found his pulse beat awkwardly again. He grabbed the mouse back, only to have Anjali hold his hand deliberately.
"Wait, Dad," she said enthusiastically. "Let me make you understand this fully."
But he could not concentrate on what she was teaching him. Instead a visual from previous evening came back to his head. He saw her breasts, though medium in size, hanging but well in the protection of the black bra inside her dress. No, it was not black. It was navy blue.
"Have you spoken to your dad?" He asked out of blue. "How long are you going to stop his request? You should go, dear."
"Shut up and concentrate, Dad!" Anjali warned, and patted softly under his chin before turning her attention back to the computer screen.
Madhav was glad to see how effortless Anjali was around him.
That night, after dinner at home, Madhav found her rearranging the books on the shelf in the living room. Her hair was loose over her shoulders. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," he said.
"Then why did you ask me to listen to my daddy's wish?"
"Because it was his right."
"No." Anjali shook her head sideways. "It is my right."
Madhav shook his head in agreement and stepped closer. "Yes, you are right," he said and forwarded his hands instinctively. Anjali was perhaps anticipating it; she quickly moved into his arms and let him embrace her. Madhav's arms went around her, tight, holding on like he suddenly realised how much he needed a hug. Anjali statyed in the embrace, until he started realising he had started getting the scent of her body. Suddenly aware, he let her go.
"I'm sorry, Anjali," he whispered, backing away. "I didn't mean to..."
Anjali caught his wrist, stopping him.
"You are not the only one feeling it, Dad." She said, quietly. Then she moved forward, and hugged him. She wrapped her arms properly around him, and pushed her body towards him to make him rest his hands at her waist. They leaned into each other, neither pulling back, neither speaking a word. They knew both needed each other.
Perhaps they were just letting the moment be what it was.
But the lines between comfort and something more had begun to blur, and both of them were uncertain yet unwilling to let go.