10-04-2026, 02:25 PM
Chapter 63: The Farewell Gift brings out the truth.
The next morning, Suriya was visibly hurt when Anandhi avoided him.
She had decided to avoid him as much as possible for the next few days — at least until Jeeva left for abroad. When Suriya came to her flat early, carrying a small tray with tea and fruits, she told him she had taken leave because of a headache and wanted to rest here.
“I’ll rest here today,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes fully, her voice carrying a quiet distance she couldn’t hide. “Don’t worry about me.”
Suriya looked at her for a long moment, his usual confident smile fading. He could sense something was deeply off — the way she kept her distance, the way her shoulders were tense, the way she refused to let him take her to his house. He tried once more, gently offering, “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to be alone.”
But Anandhi shook her head. “I just need some quiet. Please.”
He stood there for a few seconds, pain flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t push further. He left with a quiet nod, the door closing softly behind him.
Anandhi let out a shaky breath the moment he was gone. Her chest felt tight. She knew she was hurting him, but right now her mind was consumed by only one person — Jeeva.
Around 10:30 AM, she walked to Jeeva’s room. The door was slightly ajar. She found him quietly packing his things into a small bag — clothes folded neatly, a few documents, nothing extravagant. The sight made her chest tighten painfully. This was really happening. He was leaving.
She stood at the door for a moment, gathering courage, then spoke softly, “I have a headache… would you care to apply balm for me?”
Jeeva looked up, surprised but immediately concerned. His eyes softened. “Okay.”
She turned and said, “Come to my room,” then walked away without waiting for a reply.
Minutes later, when Jeeva entered her room with the small tin of balm in his hand, he found it empty. The bed was neatly made, the window letting in soft morning light. He frowned, looking around.
“Anandhi?”
Behind him, the door clicked shut with a soft but final sound.
He turned around slowly.
Anandhi was standing there, having locked the door. Her hands were trembling slightly as she reached for her pallu. Without saying a word, she let it drop. Her fingers moved to the hooks of her blouse, opening them one by one. The fabric parted slowly, revealing the soft, full curves of her breasts cradled in a simple white bra.
She stood half-naked before him, breathing faster, eyes glistening with a mixture of nervousness, determination, and deep emotion.
“Take me…” she said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “This is my farewell gift for you.”
Jeeva’s eyes widened in complete shock. His face went pale. “What nonsense is this? I… I can’t… Anandhi, you don’t have to—”
Anandhi didn’t give him time to finish. She stepped forward and pushed him gently but firmly toward the bed. In seconds, she let the blouse fall completely to the floor. Then she reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, and let it drop.
Her breasts spilled free — full, soft, heavy, with dark nipples already stiff from nervousness and the cool morning air. They rose and fell with her quick, shallow breaths.
Jeeva stopped no, i may have thought of having sex with you once, but no you are Suriya's to be wife..
Anandhi tells, thats between me and Suriya, i will explain myself to him you need not worry, i know the entire truth, you wished me good life, im giving back a small gift.
Jeeva said still i dont have any sexual thoughts on you, i mean now..
She caught the front of his pants, feeling the half-hard bulge beneath the fabric. Her fingers trembled as she whispered, voice shaking with emotion, “What is this then? You’re already getting hard…”
Jeeva was surprised too. His erection felt softer than usual, lacking the usual aggressive punch the chemical storm used to give him. He remembered Madhavan’s warning — his body was reversing. The thought made him panic for a second, but he couldn’t speak.
Before he could find words, Anandhi pulled him into a kiss.
Her lips pressed against his — hesitant at first, almost afraid, then deeper, more urgent. Her hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers.
Heat took over.
When she tried to guide him inside her immediately, pressing her body against his, Jeeva stopped her gently, his hand resting on her hip.
“Why so urgent?” he said, his voice low and surprisingly tender, almost exactly the way Rahul used to speak to her in their bed years ago. “If you’ve decided this way… let’s do it properly.”
The words hit Anandhi like a quiet thunderbolt.
He undressed himself slowly, deliberately, never rushing. When he pulled her close again, the smooch that followed was lengthy and heavier than she expected. He kissed her deeply, then moved to her neck, licking slowly along the sensitive skin. His tongue traced her collarbone, then moved lower, lavishing attention on her full breasts — sucking, licking, gently biting the swollen nipples until she moaned despite herself.
Every single movement echoed Rahul exactly.
The way he grabbed her lower lip first and sucked it softly… the slow, teasing licks around her areolas… the way he held her breasts in both hands while kissing them with focused hunger… it was all so painfully familiar.
Anandhi could not get Rahul’s thoughts out of her head.
Her moans grew louder, involuntary, as her body responded with a frightening familiarity. For a few blissful seconds, it felt like she was back in their old bed, with her husband, before everything had fallen apart. The similarity raised her ecstasy even higher — her nipples tightened painfully, wetness flooded between her thighs, and her hips moved on their own.
But it also terrified her.
In the middle of it, while Jeeva was still kissing and licking her breasts, she suddenly stopped, breathing hard, tears forming in her eyes.
“Why…” she whispered, voice cracking, “why does every action, even the sex, remind me of Rahul?”
She looked at him with wet, searching eyes.
“Tell me why… Please…”
She continued you know what, Rahul never penetrated me first, he always choose to smooch me first and then gradually take me to penetrations, how you are able to echo the same as Rahul even in sex?
Jeeva froze for a moment. He realised he was making a dangerous blunder by acting too much like his old self.
“I… I’m getting erection dysfunction off late,” he said quickly, trying to cover, his voice slightly strained. “So I wanted to take time with smooching first… to get properly hard.”
Anandhi looked at him, still emotional, tears clinging to her lashes. She searched his face for a long second, then nodded slowly, voice soft and trembling.
“Okay… no worries. Just do it.” Dont feel off, i will help you...
She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. She rode him with slow, deliberate movements at first, trying to help him, tingling him with her actions, squeezing her inner muscles to give him support. The sex was adequate — hot in its own way, her breasts bouncing gently with each roll of her hips — but something felt different. The rhythm, the feel, the way he held her waist… it was close, but not quite the same.
In the middle of it, while they both reached closer to orgasm, Anandhi could not shake the feeling.
His body smell almost smelled same as Rahul... the way he pull backs for another kiss... shit all were exactly same as Rahul.
She was riding him slowly, her hips rolling in deep, deliberate circles, trying to help him stay hard. Her full breasts bounced gently with each movement, nipples stiff and sensitive. But even as pleasure built inside her, something felt… wrong. Too familiar. Every time Jeeva grabbed her waist the same way, every time he kissed her neck with that exact pressure, every time he let out that low, throaty groan — it was like Rahul was beneath her again.
The thought refused to leave her mind.
Why does it feel like this? Why does every single thing he does remind me of Rahul?
Her breathing grew ragged, not just from the sex, but from the growing suspicion clawing at her chest. She decided to check.
They both came moments later — Anandhi with a sharp, broken cry, her body shuddering on top of him. Jeeva groaned deeply, hips jerking up as he spilled inside her. For a few seconds, the room was filled only with their heavy breathing.
Anandhi didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she slid down his body slowly, kissing his chest, his stomach, acting like she was going to give him a loving blowjob to clean him up and prolong the moment.
But her real intention was different.
As she kissed lower, her lips brushing over his lower abdomen, she carefully looked at his penis. Her heart was already racing. She gently lifted it with her fingers, pretending to kiss the tip.
There — right near the base, on the left side, almost hidden in the skin fold.
A small triplet mole.
Three tiny dark spots clustered together.
Her heart stopped.
The world seemed to freeze. Time slowed. Her breath caught in her throat as a cold wave of shock washed over her.
No… it can’t be…
She quickly moved higher, pretending to kiss his neck, and bent his left ear forward as if nuzzling him affectionately. There it was — the tiny scar she remembered from their college days, when he had gotten into a silly fight and torn his earlobe slightly.
Her hands started trembling.
She remembered the old accident mark on his back — the one from their college bike ride when he had fallen and scbangd himself badly above his buttocks. A distinct, slightly raised scar that only she knew about.
She had to see it.
With a shaky breath, she whispered, “Turn around for me…”
Jeeva, still dazed from his orgasm, obeyed without thinking, rolling onto his stomach.
Anandhi’s eyes scanned his back. There, just above his buttocks, was the exact same scar — faded but unmistakable.
Her world crashed.
“You… you are Rahul??”
The words came out in a broken whisper, barely audible at first, then louder, filled with disbelief and horror.
“Am I… am I fucking my own husband secretly?”
Anandhi’s voice cracked completely. Tears flooded her eyes instantly. Her hands shook as she stared at his back, at the scar that proved everything.
She was visibly in tears now, chest heaving, body still trembling from the orgasm she had just had with the man she now realised was her husband.
“How do you look like this… so young… unrecognisable?” she demanded, voice shaking with raw emotion. “Tell me the truth! Who are you?!”
Jeeva turned around slowly, his face pale, eyes filled with a mixture of fear, love, and resignation.
He looked at her — the woman he had loved for years, the mother of his children, the one he had sacrificed everything for — now sitting naked on the bed, tears streaming down her face, completely shattered.
He swallowed hard.
“Anandhi… I’m Rahul,” he said, voice low and heavy. “Yes… I’m your husband Rahul.”
Anandhi’s world crashed completely.
The next morning, Suriya was visibly hurt when Anandhi avoided him.
She had decided to avoid him as much as possible for the next few days — at least until Jeeva left for abroad. When Suriya came to her flat early, carrying a small tray with tea and fruits, she told him she had taken leave because of a headache and wanted to rest here.
“I’ll rest here today,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes fully, her voice carrying a quiet distance she couldn’t hide. “Don’t worry about me.”
Suriya looked at her for a long moment, his usual confident smile fading. He could sense something was deeply off — the way she kept her distance, the way her shoulders were tense, the way she refused to let him take her to his house. He tried once more, gently offering, “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to be alone.”
But Anandhi shook her head. “I just need some quiet. Please.”
He stood there for a few seconds, pain flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t push further. He left with a quiet nod, the door closing softly behind him.
Anandhi let out a shaky breath the moment he was gone. Her chest felt tight. She knew she was hurting him, but right now her mind was consumed by only one person — Jeeva.
Around 10:30 AM, she walked to Jeeva’s room. The door was slightly ajar. She found him quietly packing his things into a small bag — clothes folded neatly, a few documents, nothing extravagant. The sight made her chest tighten painfully. This was really happening. He was leaving.
She stood at the door for a moment, gathering courage, then spoke softly, “I have a headache… would you care to apply balm for me?”
Jeeva looked up, surprised but immediately concerned. His eyes softened. “Okay.”
She turned and said, “Come to my room,” then walked away without waiting for a reply.
Minutes later, when Jeeva entered her room with the small tin of balm in his hand, he found it empty. The bed was neatly made, the window letting in soft morning light. He frowned, looking around.
“Anandhi?”
Behind him, the door clicked shut with a soft but final sound.
He turned around slowly.
Anandhi was standing there, having locked the door. Her hands were trembling slightly as she reached for her pallu. Without saying a word, she let it drop. Her fingers moved to the hooks of her blouse, opening them one by one. The fabric parted slowly, revealing the soft, full curves of her breasts cradled in a simple white bra.
She stood half-naked before him, breathing faster, eyes glistening with a mixture of nervousness, determination, and deep emotion.
“Take me…” she said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “This is my farewell gift for you.”
Jeeva’s eyes widened in complete shock. His face went pale. “What nonsense is this? I… I can’t… Anandhi, you don’t have to—”
Anandhi didn’t give him time to finish. She stepped forward and pushed him gently but firmly toward the bed. In seconds, she let the blouse fall completely to the floor. Then she reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, and let it drop.
Her breasts spilled free — full, soft, heavy, with dark nipples already stiff from nervousness and the cool morning air. They rose and fell with her quick, shallow breaths.
Jeeva stopped no, i may have thought of having sex with you once, but no you are Suriya's to be wife..
Anandhi tells, thats between me and Suriya, i will explain myself to him you need not worry, i know the entire truth, you wished me good life, im giving back a small gift.
Jeeva said still i dont have any sexual thoughts on you, i mean now..
She caught the front of his pants, feeling the half-hard bulge beneath the fabric. Her fingers trembled as she whispered, voice shaking with emotion, “What is this then? You’re already getting hard…”
Jeeva was surprised too. His erection felt softer than usual, lacking the usual aggressive punch the chemical storm used to give him. He remembered Madhavan’s warning — his body was reversing. The thought made him panic for a second, but he couldn’t speak.
Before he could find words, Anandhi pulled him into a kiss.
Her lips pressed against his — hesitant at first, almost afraid, then deeper, more urgent. Her hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers.
Heat took over.
When she tried to guide him inside her immediately, pressing her body against his, Jeeva stopped her gently, his hand resting on her hip.
“Why so urgent?” he said, his voice low and surprisingly tender, almost exactly the way Rahul used to speak to her in their bed years ago. “If you’ve decided this way… let’s do it properly.”
The words hit Anandhi like a quiet thunderbolt.
He undressed himself slowly, deliberately, never rushing. When he pulled her close again, the smooch that followed was lengthy and heavier than she expected. He kissed her deeply, then moved to her neck, licking slowly along the sensitive skin. His tongue traced her collarbone, then moved lower, lavishing attention on her full breasts — sucking, licking, gently biting the swollen nipples until she moaned despite herself.
Every single movement echoed Rahul exactly.
The way he grabbed her lower lip first and sucked it softly… the slow, teasing licks around her areolas… the way he held her breasts in both hands while kissing them with focused hunger… it was all so painfully familiar.
Anandhi could not get Rahul’s thoughts out of her head.
Her moans grew louder, involuntary, as her body responded with a frightening familiarity. For a few blissful seconds, it felt like she was back in their old bed, with her husband, before everything had fallen apart. The similarity raised her ecstasy even higher — her nipples tightened painfully, wetness flooded between her thighs, and her hips moved on their own.
But it also terrified her.
In the middle of it, while Jeeva was still kissing and licking her breasts, she suddenly stopped, breathing hard, tears forming in her eyes.
“Why…” she whispered, voice cracking, “why does every action, even the sex, remind me of Rahul?”
She looked at him with wet, searching eyes.
“Tell me why… Please…”
She continued you know what, Rahul never penetrated me first, he always choose to smooch me first and then gradually take me to penetrations, how you are able to echo the same as Rahul even in sex?
Jeeva froze for a moment. He realised he was making a dangerous blunder by acting too much like his old self.
“I… I’m getting erection dysfunction off late,” he said quickly, trying to cover, his voice slightly strained. “So I wanted to take time with smooching first… to get properly hard.”
Anandhi looked at him, still emotional, tears clinging to her lashes. She searched his face for a long second, then nodded slowly, voice soft and trembling.
“Okay… no worries. Just do it.” Dont feel off, i will help you...
She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. She rode him with slow, deliberate movements at first, trying to help him, tingling him with her actions, squeezing her inner muscles to give him support. The sex was adequate — hot in its own way, her breasts bouncing gently with each roll of her hips — but something felt different. The rhythm, the feel, the way he held her waist… it was close, but not quite the same.
In the middle of it, while they both reached closer to orgasm, Anandhi could not shake the feeling.
His body smell almost smelled same as Rahul... the way he pull backs for another kiss... shit all were exactly same as Rahul.
She was riding him slowly, her hips rolling in deep, deliberate circles, trying to help him stay hard. Her full breasts bounced gently with each movement, nipples stiff and sensitive. But even as pleasure built inside her, something felt… wrong. Too familiar. Every time Jeeva grabbed her waist the same way, every time he kissed her neck with that exact pressure, every time he let out that low, throaty groan — it was like Rahul was beneath her again.
The thought refused to leave her mind.
Why does it feel like this? Why does every single thing he does remind me of Rahul?
Her breathing grew ragged, not just from the sex, but from the growing suspicion clawing at her chest. She decided to check.
They both came moments later — Anandhi with a sharp, broken cry, her body shuddering on top of him. Jeeva groaned deeply, hips jerking up as he spilled inside her. For a few seconds, the room was filled only with their heavy breathing.
Anandhi didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she slid down his body slowly, kissing his chest, his stomach, acting like she was going to give him a loving blowjob to clean him up and prolong the moment.
But her real intention was different.
As she kissed lower, her lips brushing over his lower abdomen, she carefully looked at his penis. Her heart was already racing. She gently lifted it with her fingers, pretending to kiss the tip.
There — right near the base, on the left side, almost hidden in the skin fold.
A small triplet mole.
Three tiny dark spots clustered together.
Her heart stopped.
The world seemed to freeze. Time slowed. Her breath caught in her throat as a cold wave of shock washed over her.
No… it can’t be…
She quickly moved higher, pretending to kiss his neck, and bent his left ear forward as if nuzzling him affectionately. There it was — the tiny scar she remembered from their college days, when he had gotten into a silly fight and torn his earlobe slightly.
Her hands started trembling.
She remembered the old accident mark on his back — the one from their college bike ride when he had fallen and scbangd himself badly above his buttocks. A distinct, slightly raised scar that only she knew about.
She had to see it.
With a shaky breath, she whispered, “Turn around for me…”
Jeeva, still dazed from his orgasm, obeyed without thinking, rolling onto his stomach.
Anandhi’s eyes scanned his back. There, just above his buttocks, was the exact same scar — faded but unmistakable.
Her world crashed.
“You… you are Rahul??”
The words came out in a broken whisper, barely audible at first, then louder, filled with disbelief and horror.
“Am I… am I fucking my own husband secretly?”
Anandhi’s voice cracked completely. Tears flooded her eyes instantly. Her hands shook as she stared at his back, at the scar that proved everything.
She was visibly in tears now, chest heaving, body still trembling from the orgasm she had just had with the man she now realised was her husband.
“How do you look like this… so young… unrecognisable?” she demanded, voice shaking with raw emotion. “Tell me the truth! Who are you?!”
Jeeva turned around slowly, his face pale, eyes filled with a mixture of fear, love, and resignation.
He looked at her — the woman he had loved for years, the mother of his children, the one he had sacrificed everything for — now sitting naked on the bed, tears streaming down her face, completely shattered.
He swallowed hard.
“Anandhi… I’m Rahul,” he said, voice low and heavy. “Yes… I’m your husband Rahul.”
Anandhi’s world crashed completely.
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