05-03-2026, 04:06 PM
The ride home in their white sedan felt like being trapped in a pressurized cabin. Bavi’s mother was in the driver’s seat—a woman who prided herself on her intuition—while Bavi sat in the passenger side, staring out at the chaotic Chennai traffic.
"That boy, Shri," her mother started, merging into the flow of cars near Mandaveli. "He has very good vibes, Bavi. Very respectful. And so tall! He looks like he belongs in a movie, not behind a computer."
Bavi felt a hot flush creep up from her chest. She adjusted the AC vent, directing the cold air straight onto her face. "He’s just a junior, Amma. A new joinee. I barely know him."
"Barely know him? He spoke about you like you’re the captain of a ship," her mother chuckled. "And he has a very steady gaze. Usually, these young IT boys are so restless, always looking at their phones. But he was very focused."
Focused is an understatement, Bavi thought. She felt the heavy, damp ache between her legs flare up again. The memory of him in that white veshti, leaning against the temple pillar, was a high-resolution image burned into her mind.
Buzz.
The phone in her lap came alive. She kept it low, hidden by the folds of her green cotton saree.
Shri [11:45 AM]: Your mom is a delight, Bavi. She almost invited me for lunch. Should I have said yes?
Bavi’s thumb flew across the screen, her heart racing.
Bavi [11:46 AM]: You are playing with fire. If she suspects even a fraction of what you’ve been saying to me, we’re both dead.
Shri [11:47 AM]: She won’t suspect. To her, I’m just a polite boy with 'good vibes.' Only you know about the 'malware' I’m trying to install in your system.
Bavi bit her lip, a soft gasp escaping her. She looked out the window, her reflection in the glass showing a woman who looked far too flustered for a Saturday morning grocery run.
"Are you okay, Bavi? You're breathing very heavily," her mother asked, glancing over.
"It’s just... the heat, Amma. The temple was very crowded," Bavi managed to say, her voice trembling.
Buzz.
Shri [11:49 AM]: I saw the way you looked at me when she mentioned coffee. You were terrified. And you were wanting me.
Shri [11:50 AM]: I can still see the pulse in your neck. Even from the rearview mirror of my car two lanes behind you.
Bavi’s head snapped around. She looked through the back window. Far back, weaving through the auto-rickshaws, she saw a dark SUV. It was him. He was following the 'packet stream' all the way home.
The realization made her "boom" down there—a heavy, insistent throbbing that made the cotton of her saree feel like sandpaper against her sensitized skin. She was being tracked, not just by her mother’s expectations, but by a man who refused to follow the rules of engagement.
Bavi [11:52 AM]: Stop following us, Shri. This isn't a game.
Shri [11:53 AM]: Not a game. A synchronization. See you on Monday, Lead. Try not to let the 'Domestic Firewall' overheat. You have a lot of data to process before then.
Bavi closed the phone and shoved it deep into her handbag. She sat in silence for the rest of the ride, her mother’s praise for Shri echoing in one ear while the ghost of his words burned in the other. She was the Lead Support, but for the first time in her career, she felt completely unsupported.
"That boy, Shri," her mother started, merging into the flow of cars near Mandaveli. "He has very good vibes, Bavi. Very respectful. And so tall! He looks like he belongs in a movie, not behind a computer."
Bavi felt a hot flush creep up from her chest. She adjusted the AC vent, directing the cold air straight onto her face. "He’s just a junior, Amma. A new joinee. I barely know him."
"Barely know him? He spoke about you like you’re the captain of a ship," her mother chuckled. "And he has a very steady gaze. Usually, these young IT boys are so restless, always looking at their phones. But he was very focused."
Focused is an understatement, Bavi thought. She felt the heavy, damp ache between her legs flare up again. The memory of him in that white veshti, leaning against the temple pillar, was a high-resolution image burned into her mind.
Buzz.
The phone in her lap came alive. She kept it low, hidden by the folds of her green cotton saree.
Shri [11:45 AM]: Your mom is a delight, Bavi. She almost invited me for lunch. Should I have said yes?
Bavi’s thumb flew across the screen, her heart racing.
Bavi [11:46 AM]: You are playing with fire. If she suspects even a fraction of what you’ve been saying to me, we’re both dead.
Shri [11:47 AM]: She won’t suspect. To her, I’m just a polite boy with 'good vibes.' Only you know about the 'malware' I’m trying to install in your system.
Bavi bit her lip, a soft gasp escaping her. She looked out the window, her reflection in the glass showing a woman who looked far too flustered for a Saturday morning grocery run.
"Are you okay, Bavi? You're breathing very heavily," her mother asked, glancing over.
"It’s just... the heat, Amma. The temple was very crowded," Bavi managed to say, her voice trembling.
Buzz.
Shri [11:49 AM]: I saw the way you looked at me when she mentioned coffee. You were terrified. And you were wanting me.
Shri [11:50 AM]: I can still see the pulse in your neck. Even from the rearview mirror of my car two lanes behind you.
Bavi’s head snapped around. She looked through the back window. Far back, weaving through the auto-rickshaws, she saw a dark SUV. It was him. He was following the 'packet stream' all the way home.
The realization made her "boom" down there—a heavy, insistent throbbing that made the cotton of her saree feel like sandpaper against her sensitized skin. She was being tracked, not just by her mother’s expectations, but by a man who refused to follow the rules of engagement.
Bavi [11:52 AM]: Stop following us, Shri. This isn't a game.
Shri [11:53 AM]: Not a game. A synchronization. See you on Monday, Lead. Try not to let the 'Domestic Firewall' overheat. You have a lot of data to process before then.
Bavi closed the phone and shoved it deep into her handbag. She sat in silence for the rest of the ride, her mother’s praise for Shri echoing in one ear while the ghost of his words burned in the other. She was the Lead Support, but for the first time in her career, she felt completely unsupported.
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