Adultery Amorous Ayesha

[Sengolan]

Then Ayesha stood abruptly, smoothing her saree with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Well," she said, and the boys leaned forward in unison, "I should probably leave." The collective deflation was almost comical. Faiz nearly sagged with relief.

But then she paused at the stairs, glancing over her shoulder with a grin that sent ice down his spine. "Unless," she added, "you boys want to show me those dance moves you’re always bragging about?"

The room exploded. Chairs scbangd, bottles clattered, and Faiz’s world tilted on its axis as his friends—his drunk, hormone-fueled, *disrespectful* friends—crowded around his mother like moths to a flame. AK’s hands hovered near her waist, Ravi’s breath hitched when she laughed, and Faiz—

Faiz finally understood what it meant to drown.

The first beats of "Tum Hi Ho" pulsed through the basement, the slow rhythm coaxing hesitant movement from the group. Ravi, ever the ringleader, stood first, extending a hand toward Ayesha with exaggerated chivalry. "Ladies' choice, Aunty?" The others hooted as she took his hand, her laughter light but her grip firm as he pulled her into the center of the room. Faiz watched, paralyzed, as Ravi’s palm settled too low on her back, his fingers splaying just above the curve of her hip. Ayesha didn’t push him away—instead, she arched into the touch, her saree rippling as she swayed closer. "Drink first," she teased, and Tony shoved a full glass of whiskey into her free hand. She downed it in one go, throat working, and the boys erupted into cheers.



By the time Samar took his turn, the song had shifted to something slower, darker—the kind of melody that made bodies press closer in the dim light. Ayesha’s pallu slipped from her shoulder as Samar spun her, the fabric pooling at her elbows like an afterthought. She didn’t retrieve it. Instead, she let him guide her into a dip, her blouse gaping slightly to reveal the lace edge of her bra. Faiz’s stomach clenched when Samar’s gaze flicked downward, as she righted herself with a giggle. "Another drink," she demanded, breathless, and AK obliged, pouring generously. The liquor spilled over her lower lip as she drank, trailing down her neck in a glistening line Tony was too drunk not to wipe away with his thumb.


Peeche," its suggestive lyrics twisting the air between them. Ayesha’s movements turned deliberate—hips rolling, arms lifting, the remaining folds of her saree loosening with every twist. When AK tugged playfully at her waistband, she didn’t stop him. The fabric slid to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her in just her blouse and petticoat, the thin material clinging to every curve. Faiz’s vision blurred. His mother’s mdriff—*bare*—gleamed under the string lights as she stepped out of the pooled saree, kicking it aside with a laugh that sounded nothing like hers.



Then it was Ravi’s turn again. The music morphed into something unrecognizable, all throbbing bass and whispered promises. He caught Ayesha’s wrist, pulling her flush against him, his mouth brushing her ear as he murmured something too low for the others to hear. Ayesha stiffened. "No," she said, too loud, her voice fraying at the edges. "I can’t—" But Ravi was already reaching for the whiskey bottle, pressing it into her hands with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. "One more," he coaxed, fingers tracing her knuckles. "For courage."


The room held its breath. Ayesha stared at the bottle, her chest rising and falling too fast. Then, with a sharp jerk of her chin, she raised it to her lips and drank—deep, desperate gulps that left her gasping. When she lowered it, her eyes were glassy, her lips parted. "Okay," she whispered, and the word slithered through Faiz’s ribs like a knife.



Ravi’s smile turned feral. He cupped her face, thumb swiping at the alcohol on her chin, and Faiz knew—*knew*—whatever came next would ruin everything.


The moment Ravi's fingers tightened around Ayesha's wrist, the basement air turned syrupy with tension. Faiz saw the exact second his mother's pupils dilated—whether from the whiskey or the predatory gleam in Ravi's eyes, he couldn't tell. She didn't pull away. Instead, her free hand came up to rest against Ravi's chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt. Tony whistled low, the sound cutting through the music like a blade.


"Easy, beta," Ayesha murmured, but the way her thumb brushed Ravi's collarbone betrayed her. Ravi smirked, stepping closer until the space between them vanished. The others formed a loose circle around them, drinks forgotten, breaths shallow. Faiz could see the sweat beading along his mother's hairline, the way her blouse clung to her back where Samar had touched her moments ago.


Then Ravi dipped his head, his lips grazing the shell of Ayesha's ear as he whispered something that made her laugh—a high, nervous sound that dissolved into a gasp when his hand slid down to grip her hip. The petticoat's thin fabric did nothing to hide the imprint of his fingers. AK muttered a curse under his breath, his own hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to replace Ravi's.



Faiz's chair screeched as he stood abruptly. "Ma—"


But Ayesha was already spinning away from Ravi with a dancer's grace, her bare feet silent on the concrete floor. "Music's too slow," she declared, reaching for the half-empty whiskey bottle on the table. Her fingers trembled slightly as she poured another shot, the liquid sloshing over the rim. She didn't seem to care. "Someone put on something with—with *energy*." The last word came out slurred, her consonants soft around the edges.


Tony lunged for the aux cord like a starving man offered a meal. The speakers erupted with the pulsing beat of "Kamariya," its suggestive lyrics wrapping around the room like a second skin. Ayesha's hips jerked instinctively to the rhythm, the movement sending her blouse sliding off one shoulder. She didn't adjust it. Instead, she lifted the shot glass to her lips, her eyes locking with Ravi's over the rim as she downed it in one go.