04-02-2026, 10:27 AM
beeda stared back, surprised, chewing slowly on his paan. After a long pause, he nodded once. "Theek hai, saab. 10 baje pahunch jaunga."
after going home ,
Ranjith kissed her forehead, grabbed his wallet, and left at 9:45 sharp for the market to pick up the cake and some sweets — "Special wala chocolate cake, jaise tu pasand karti hai."
The clock hit 10 AM. Divya had finished her morning chores, still in the same maroon saree from the temple visit earlier — gold border shimmering, pallu dbangd modestly over her shoulder, mangalsutra resting between her full breasts, fresh sindoor bright on her forehead. The house smelled of aloo sabzi, dal, fresh rotis, and the faint incense from pooja. Monu was in the living room, playing with his toys, excited about "cake time."
A firm knock at the door. Divya's hand froze on the kitchen counter. She smoothed her saree nervously, took a deep breath, and opened it.
There stood beedaa — 60 years old but carrying himself like a man half that age in raw strength. Faded black vest stretched tight over his broad, hairy chest, old lungi tied low on narrow hips, arms crossed showing the faded green tattoos snaking from wrists to shoulders. Gray stubble rough, scar on his cheek catching the light, eyes dark and unreadable.
He smelled of paan, beedi smoke, and the faint musk of a man who lived hard outdoors.
"Namaste, bhabhi," he said, voice low and gravelly, stepping inside without waiting for full invitation.
His eyes swept the small, neat home — then locked on her. Slow. Deliberate. From her face... down the curve of her neck... to where the saree clung to her waist... lower still.
Divya stepped back instinctively, clutching the edge of her pallu. "Aaiye... baithiye. Ranjith ji market gaye hain cake ke liye. Jaldi aayenge."
Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Monu peeked from the sofa, curious but shy.
beedaa nodded at the boy politely — "Beta, kaisa hai?" — then turned back to Divya.
He walked further in, , and sat heavily on the sofa like he belonged there. Legs spread wide, arms resting on the backrest, taking up space. "Achha khushboo aa rahi hai. Aapki haath ki khichdi?"
Divya forced a smile, hurrying to the kitchen to get water. "Haan... aapke liye banaya hai. Ranjith ji ne kaha tha aap aayenge." She poured a glass with trembling hands, the water rippling slightly. When she brought it to him, he took it slowly — fingers brushing hers deliberately as he accepted. Rough, calloused skin against her soft palm. He held the touch a second longer than necessary, eyes never leaving hers.
"Shukriya, bhabhi. Aap bahut achhi ho. saab ko bahut pyaar karti ho na?" His tone was casual, but the words carried weight. He sipped the water, throat working visibly, then set the glass down. Leaned forward slightly.
"Lekin kabhi kabhi... dil mein kuch aur bhi hota hai. Jo dikhta nahi."
She turned away quickly, pretending to adjust something on the dining table. But she felt his gaze on her back — heavy, hot, tracing the outline of her blouse, the dip of her waist, the sway as she moved. Monu was distracted by his toys now, humming to himself.
beedaa stood up quietly, walked to the kitchen doorway. Leaned against the frame, arms crossed again. Close enough she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Mandir gayi thi aaj subah? Meri taraf dekha tha jab wapas aa rahi thi?" His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "Ya sirf mera khayal aa raha tha pooja karte waqt?"
Divya froze, back to him, gripping the counter. Her breath came faster. The house was silent except for Monu's soft play sounds and the distant street noise. Ranjith would be back any minute...
after going home ,
Ranjith kissed her forehead, grabbed his wallet, and left at 9:45 sharp for the market to pick up the cake and some sweets — "Special wala chocolate cake, jaise tu pasand karti hai."
The clock hit 10 AM. Divya had finished her morning chores, still in the same maroon saree from the temple visit earlier — gold border shimmering, pallu dbangd modestly over her shoulder, mangalsutra resting between her full breasts, fresh sindoor bright on her forehead. The house smelled of aloo sabzi, dal, fresh rotis, and the faint incense from pooja. Monu was in the living room, playing with his toys, excited about "cake time."
A firm knock at the door. Divya's hand froze on the kitchen counter. She smoothed her saree nervously, took a deep breath, and opened it.
There stood beedaa — 60 years old but carrying himself like a man half that age in raw strength. Faded black vest stretched tight over his broad, hairy chest, old lungi tied low on narrow hips, arms crossed showing the faded green tattoos snaking from wrists to shoulders. Gray stubble rough, scar on his cheek catching the light, eyes dark and unreadable.
He smelled of paan, beedi smoke, and the faint musk of a man who lived hard outdoors.
"Namaste, bhabhi," he said, voice low and gravelly, stepping inside without waiting for full invitation.
His eyes swept the small, neat home — then locked on her. Slow. Deliberate. From her face... down the curve of her neck... to where the saree clung to her waist... lower still.
Divya stepped back instinctively, clutching the edge of her pallu. "Aaiye... baithiye. Ranjith ji market gaye hain cake ke liye. Jaldi aayenge."
Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Monu peeked from the sofa, curious but shy.
beedaa nodded at the boy politely — "Beta, kaisa hai?" — then turned back to Divya.
He walked further in, , and sat heavily on the sofa like he belonged there. Legs spread wide, arms resting on the backrest, taking up space. "Achha khushboo aa rahi hai. Aapki haath ki khichdi?"
Divya forced a smile, hurrying to the kitchen to get water. "Haan... aapke liye banaya hai. Ranjith ji ne kaha tha aap aayenge." She poured a glass with trembling hands, the water rippling slightly. When she brought it to him, he took it slowly — fingers brushing hers deliberately as he accepted. Rough, calloused skin against her soft palm. He held the touch a second longer than necessary, eyes never leaving hers.
"Shukriya, bhabhi. Aap bahut achhi ho. saab ko bahut pyaar karti ho na?" His tone was casual, but the words carried weight. He sipped the water, throat working visibly, then set the glass down. Leaned forward slightly.
"Lekin kabhi kabhi... dil mein kuch aur bhi hota hai. Jo dikhta nahi."
She turned away quickly, pretending to adjust something on the dining table. But she felt his gaze on her back — heavy, hot, tracing the outline of her blouse, the dip of her waist, the sway as she moved. Monu was distracted by his toys now, humming to himself.
beedaa stood up quietly, walked to the kitchen doorway. Leaned against the frame, arms crossed again. Close enough she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Mandir gayi thi aaj subah? Meri taraf dekha tha jab wapas aa rahi thi?" His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "Ya sirf mera khayal aa raha tha pooja karte waqt?"
Divya froze, back to him, gripping the counter. Her breath came faster. The house was silent except for Monu's soft play sounds and the distant street noise. Ranjith would be back any minute...
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