24-05-2026, 10:08 AM
(This post was last modified: 24-05-2026, 10:09 AM by Hornytamilan23. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 7 — The Night They Tried Again
Shruthi woke to the smell of tempering mustard seeds and curry leaves.
For a few sleepy seconds, she stayed buried under the blanket, eyes half closed, mind floating somewhere between dream and reality. Rainlight slipped softly through the curtains, pale and silver against the bedroom wall.
Then she turned toward the bedside table.
9:02 AM.
Her eyes widened instantly.
“Oh no.”
She sat up so fast the blanket fell to her waist.
“Lokesh!”
No response.
The apartment was strangely calm.
Too calm.
Usually by this time:
Hasini would be shouting about missing pencils,
the pressure cooker would be screaming,
someone would be late,
and Shruthi herself would already be irritated with life.
Today?
Silence.
Which somehow felt suspicious.
---
She hurried out of the bedroom, hair messy, oversized T-shirt hanging loosely from one shoulder.
And stopped.
The dining table was already arranged.
Three lunch boxes.
Breakfast neatly plated.
Hasini’s college bag zipped and ready.
Even the water bottles were filled.
Near the kitchen counter, Lokesh stood wearing a dark blue shirt with sleeves folded up, calmly packing curd rice into a steel container while coffee boiled beside him.
He looked up once.
And smiled.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
Shruthi stared at him in disbelief.
“You didn’t wake me up?!”
“You were sleeping properly after many days.”
“That’s not the point!”
“You looked exhausted.”
His voice was gentle.
Matter-of-fact.
Not sarcastic.
And somehow that completely weakened her anger.
---
Hasini ran out of the bedroom with one sock missing.
“Amma woke up last!”
“Traitor,” Shruthi muttered.
Hasini giggled and hugged her legs dramatically before running away again.
Lokesh handed Shruthi a coffee mug.
“Drink first.”
She accepted it automatically.
Warm ceramic against cold fingers.
The smell alone relaxed her slightly.
“You made chutney also?” she asked suspiciously.
“Hm.”
“And lunch?”
“Hm.”
“You even packed snack box?”
“Hm.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Tell me honestly. What mistake did you do?”
Lokesh laughed softly.
“No mistake.”
Then after a pause:
“You’ve been carrying too much lately.”
That line landed differently.
Because he wasn’t teasing.
He had noticed.
---
Shruthi looked at him quietly for a second longer than usual.
Even half-tired in morning light, he looked attractive.
Slight beard shadow. Broad shoulders. Calm eyes still heavy from lack of sleep.
There was something deeply masculine about watching him move confidently inside the kitchen they had shared for years.
Familiarity had not removed attraction.
If anything, it had made attraction quieter.
Deeper.
More dangerous.
---
The drive through Chennai felt unusually peaceful.
Rain clouds hovered low over the city while old Ilaiyaraaja songs played softly from the car speakers.
Hasini sat in the backseat narrating completely unnecessary stories from college.
Shruthi leaned against the window watching bikes cut through traffic and roadside tea shops opening for the day.
At a signal, Lokesh glanced sideways briefly.
“You feeling better?”
“Hm.”
“You slept deeply.”
“I think I was mentally tired.”
“You think?”
She smiled faintly.
“Okay fine. I was mentally tired.”
Lokesh nodded once.
No dramatic response.
No over-analysis.
Just understanding.
And honestly, that was one of the reasons she still loved him after all these years.
---
After dropping Hasini at college, they drove toward Shruthi’s office.
The rain had reduced to a drizzle by then.
Employees rushed toward the glass entrance carrying laptops and coffee cups like corporate soldiers entering battle.
As Shruthi opened the car door, someone approaching the building slowed slightly.
Karthik.
White shirt.
Laptop bag.
That same nervous-but-attentive expression.
He noticed Shruthi first.
Then Lokesh.
And immediately straightened posture.
---
“Morning,” Shruthi said casually.
“Morning…”
His eyes shifted respectfully toward Lokesh.
Shruthi adjusted her handbag slightly.
“This is my husband, Lokesh.”
Karthik quickly extended his hand.
“Hi sir.”
Lokesh shook it calmly.
“Hi.”
There was a brief pause.
The kind men notice but rarely acknowledge openly.
Lokesh observed him carefully:
young,
polite,
slightly intimidated,
but visibly comfortable around Shruthi already.
And Karthik observed Lokesh too:
older,
composed,
naturally confident,
the kind of husband who looked secure without needing performance.
---
“You work under her?” Lokesh asked casually.
“Yes sir.”
“Then I’m sorry for your future.”
Shruthi turned immediately.
“Excuse me?”
Karthik laughed awkwardly.
“She already scares everyone,” Lokesh continued calmly.
“I do not scare people.”
“You once corrected my PowerPoint font alignment.”
“Because it was wrong.”
“See?”
Karthik smiled properly now.
And Shruthi realized with mild irritation that both men were already getting along.
---
“Okay bye,” she said quickly before conversation stretched further.
Lokesh looked at her.
“Eat lunch.”
“You’re behaving suspiciously caring today.”
“Maybe I’m evolving.”
“That sounds medically dangerous.”
He smirked faintly.
And as she walked away beside Karthik toward the entrance, she felt Lokesh’s eyes remain on her for one extra second.
Not possessively.
Affectionately.
---
Inside the lift, Karthik exhaled dramatically.
“Your husband is cool.”
Shruthi raised an eyebrow.
“You expected villain entry ah?”
“No… but he has very calm energy.”
“Hm.”
“He’s very different from you.”
That made her laugh.
“How?”
“You’re intense.”
“And he?”
“Steady.”
The answer stayed with her longer than expected.
Because it was true.
---
The day passed in meetings, campaign corrections, and coffee-fueled survival.
But something inside Shruthi felt softer throughout.
Maybe because home had felt lighter that morning.
Maybe because Lokesh had noticed her exhaustion without making her explain it.
Or maybe because life suddenly felt less heavy than it had in weeks.
---
Evening rain flooded half the city again.
By the time Shruthi returned home, warm yellow light spilled from the apartment doorway.
And music played softly inside.
She stepped in slowly.
Hasini was asleep already.
Blanket tangled around her tiny legs on the sofa.
The apartment smelled faintly of room freshener and fried snacks.
Then Shruthi noticed the bottle on the table.
Magic Moments vodka.
She stared.
Then looked at Lokesh standing near the balcony.
“You bought vodka?”
Lokesh lifted both hands defensively.
“Before judging, remember intention matters.”
Shruthi burst into laughter.
“You don’t even drink properly!”
“Today I am romantic husband.”
“That sentence itself reduced romance.”
---
Still smiling, she changed clothes and joined him.
Outside, rain painted the city silver.
Inside, the lights were dim.
The atmosphere felt strangely intimate already.
Not forced.
Just slow.
Comfortable.
---
The first drink burned slightly.
The second relaxed them.
By the third, conversation had loosened completely.
They sat cross-legged on the floor near the balcony doors while old songs played from YouTube playlists.
No office stress.
No parents visiting.
No responsibilities demanding immediate attention.
Just husband and wife talking again like people instead of roles.
---
“You know what I miss?” Shruthi asked suddenly.
“Hm?”
“Us being stupid.”
Lokesh smiled faintly.
“We’re still stupid.”
“No… younger stupid.”
“That stupidity had energy.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed softly into her glass.
Rain rolled across the windows behind them.
---
At some point, conversation turned nostalgic.
College memories.
First apartment struggles.
Fights over money.
Bad honeymoon hotel experience.
The time Hasini vomited inside a mall elevator.
They laughed until tears formed briefly.
And slowly, carefully, emotional distance began dissolving without either naming it directly.
---
Then the music changed.
An old melody.
One they both knew.
Lokesh stood suddenly and extended his hand.
Shruthi looked suspicious.
“What now?”
“Dance.”
“You absolutely cannot dance.”
“That has never stopped confidence.”
She laughed and let him pull her up anyway.
---
They moved slowly in the middle of the hall.
Not proper dancing.
Just closeness.
Warmth.
Bodies remembering comfort naturally.
Shruthi’s hands rested lightly against his shoulders while Lokesh held her waist gently.
Outside, rain blurred the city.
Inside, years of marriage softened around them quietly.
---
“You’re beautiful when relaxed,” Lokesh murmured suddenly.
Shruthi looked up.
Alcohol had made his honesty more visible.
“You’re flirting properly after long time,” she whispered back.
“Hm.”
“I support this development.”
He laughed softly and leaned closer.
Then kissed her.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Not rushed desire.
Recognition.
The kind of kiss that says: I still know you.
Shruthi melted into him instinctively.
Warmth spread through her chest immediately.
For several seconds, nothing existed except:
rain,
music,
his hand against her waist,
the familiar comfort of being wanted again.
---
Lokesh kissed her again, this time lingering slightly longer.
His fingers brushed lightly along her back.
Shruthi responded immediately—
then suddenly pulled away laughing helplessly.
He blinked.
“What happened?”
“The room…” she laughed harder now, holding his arm for balance, “…is floating little.”
Lokesh stared for a second before groaning dramatically.
“You lightweight.”
“You bought cheap vodka!”
“You drank like heartbreak heroine!”
---
Both dissolved into laughter again.
The kind of laughter only long-married couples share: messy, unattractive, real.
Shruthi leaned against his chest afterward, still smiling softly while the dizziness settled heavily into her limbs.
The emotional closeness remained.
But physical energy disappeared completely.
---
Lokesh sighed theatrically.
“My romantic timing is genuinely cursed.”
Shruthi buried her face against his shoulder.
“Come sleep.”
---
Later, lying in bed beside him, Shruthi rested against his chest while rain softened outside.
Lokesh’s arm wrapped around her instinctively.
Warm.
Protective.
Familiar.
And as sleep slowly pulled them both under, Shruthi realized something important:
Sometimes intimacy wasn’t ruined by lack of love.
Only by exhaustion.
And maybe that was fixable after all.
Shruthi woke to the smell of tempering mustard seeds and curry leaves.
For a few sleepy seconds, she stayed buried under the blanket, eyes half closed, mind floating somewhere between dream and reality. Rainlight slipped softly through the curtains, pale and silver against the bedroom wall.
Then she turned toward the bedside table.
9:02 AM.
Her eyes widened instantly.
“Oh no.”
She sat up so fast the blanket fell to her waist.
“Lokesh!”
No response.
The apartment was strangely calm.
Too calm.
Usually by this time:
Hasini would be shouting about missing pencils,
the pressure cooker would be screaming,
someone would be late,
and Shruthi herself would already be irritated with life.
Today?
Silence.
Which somehow felt suspicious.
---
She hurried out of the bedroom, hair messy, oversized T-shirt hanging loosely from one shoulder.
And stopped.
The dining table was already arranged.
Three lunch boxes.
Breakfast neatly plated.
Hasini’s college bag zipped and ready.
Even the water bottles were filled.
Near the kitchen counter, Lokesh stood wearing a dark blue shirt with sleeves folded up, calmly packing curd rice into a steel container while coffee boiled beside him.
He looked up once.
And smiled.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
Shruthi stared at him in disbelief.
“You didn’t wake me up?!”
“You were sleeping properly after many days.”
“That’s not the point!”
“You looked exhausted.”
His voice was gentle.
Matter-of-fact.
Not sarcastic.
And somehow that completely weakened her anger.
---
Hasini ran out of the bedroom with one sock missing.
“Amma woke up last!”
“Traitor,” Shruthi muttered.
Hasini giggled and hugged her legs dramatically before running away again.
Lokesh handed Shruthi a coffee mug.
“Drink first.”
She accepted it automatically.
Warm ceramic against cold fingers.
The smell alone relaxed her slightly.
“You made chutney also?” she asked suspiciously.
“Hm.”
“And lunch?”
“Hm.”
“You even packed snack box?”
“Hm.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Tell me honestly. What mistake did you do?”
Lokesh laughed softly.
“No mistake.”
Then after a pause:
“You’ve been carrying too much lately.”
That line landed differently.
Because he wasn’t teasing.
He had noticed.
---
Shruthi looked at him quietly for a second longer than usual.
Even half-tired in morning light, he looked attractive.
Slight beard shadow. Broad shoulders. Calm eyes still heavy from lack of sleep.
There was something deeply masculine about watching him move confidently inside the kitchen they had shared for years.
Familiarity had not removed attraction.
If anything, it had made attraction quieter.
Deeper.
More dangerous.
---
The drive through Chennai felt unusually peaceful.
Rain clouds hovered low over the city while old Ilaiyaraaja songs played softly from the car speakers.
Hasini sat in the backseat narrating completely unnecessary stories from college.
Shruthi leaned against the window watching bikes cut through traffic and roadside tea shops opening for the day.
At a signal, Lokesh glanced sideways briefly.
“You feeling better?”
“Hm.”
“You slept deeply.”
“I think I was mentally tired.”
“You think?”
She smiled faintly.
“Okay fine. I was mentally tired.”
Lokesh nodded once.
No dramatic response.
No over-analysis.
Just understanding.
And honestly, that was one of the reasons she still loved him after all these years.
---
After dropping Hasini at college, they drove toward Shruthi’s office.
The rain had reduced to a drizzle by then.
Employees rushed toward the glass entrance carrying laptops and coffee cups like corporate soldiers entering battle.
As Shruthi opened the car door, someone approaching the building slowed slightly.
Karthik.
White shirt.
Laptop bag.
That same nervous-but-attentive expression.
He noticed Shruthi first.
Then Lokesh.
And immediately straightened posture.
---
“Morning,” Shruthi said casually.
“Morning…”
His eyes shifted respectfully toward Lokesh.
Shruthi adjusted her handbag slightly.
“This is my husband, Lokesh.”
Karthik quickly extended his hand.
“Hi sir.”
Lokesh shook it calmly.
“Hi.”
There was a brief pause.
The kind men notice but rarely acknowledge openly.
Lokesh observed him carefully:
young,
polite,
slightly intimidated,
but visibly comfortable around Shruthi already.
And Karthik observed Lokesh too:
older,
composed,
naturally confident,
the kind of husband who looked secure without needing performance.
---
“You work under her?” Lokesh asked casually.
“Yes sir.”
“Then I’m sorry for your future.”
Shruthi turned immediately.
“Excuse me?”
Karthik laughed awkwardly.
“She already scares everyone,” Lokesh continued calmly.
“I do not scare people.”
“You once corrected my PowerPoint font alignment.”
“Because it was wrong.”
“See?”
Karthik smiled properly now.
And Shruthi realized with mild irritation that both men were already getting along.
---
“Okay bye,” she said quickly before conversation stretched further.
Lokesh looked at her.
“Eat lunch.”
“You’re behaving suspiciously caring today.”
“Maybe I’m evolving.”
“That sounds medically dangerous.”
He smirked faintly.
And as she walked away beside Karthik toward the entrance, she felt Lokesh’s eyes remain on her for one extra second.
Not possessively.
Affectionately.
---
Inside the lift, Karthik exhaled dramatically.
“Your husband is cool.”
Shruthi raised an eyebrow.
“You expected villain entry ah?”
“No… but he has very calm energy.”
“Hm.”
“He’s very different from you.”
That made her laugh.
“How?”
“You’re intense.”
“And he?”
“Steady.”
The answer stayed with her longer than expected.
Because it was true.
---
The day passed in meetings, campaign corrections, and coffee-fueled survival.
But something inside Shruthi felt softer throughout.
Maybe because home had felt lighter that morning.
Maybe because Lokesh had noticed her exhaustion without making her explain it.
Or maybe because life suddenly felt less heavy than it had in weeks.
---
Evening rain flooded half the city again.
By the time Shruthi returned home, warm yellow light spilled from the apartment doorway.
And music played softly inside.
She stepped in slowly.
Hasini was asleep already.
Blanket tangled around her tiny legs on the sofa.
The apartment smelled faintly of room freshener and fried snacks.
Then Shruthi noticed the bottle on the table.
Magic Moments vodka.
She stared.
Then looked at Lokesh standing near the balcony.
“You bought vodka?”
Lokesh lifted both hands defensively.
“Before judging, remember intention matters.”
Shruthi burst into laughter.
“You don’t even drink properly!”
“Today I am romantic husband.”
“That sentence itself reduced romance.”
---
Still smiling, she changed clothes and joined him.
Outside, rain painted the city silver.
Inside, the lights were dim.
The atmosphere felt strangely intimate already.
Not forced.
Just slow.
Comfortable.
---
The first drink burned slightly.
The second relaxed them.
By the third, conversation had loosened completely.
They sat cross-legged on the floor near the balcony doors while old songs played from YouTube playlists.
No office stress.
No parents visiting.
No responsibilities demanding immediate attention.
Just husband and wife talking again like people instead of roles.
---
“You know what I miss?” Shruthi asked suddenly.
“Hm?”
“Us being stupid.”
Lokesh smiled faintly.
“We’re still stupid.”
“No… younger stupid.”
“That stupidity had energy.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed softly into her glass.
Rain rolled across the windows behind them.
---
At some point, conversation turned nostalgic.
College memories.
First apartment struggles.
Fights over money.
Bad honeymoon hotel experience.
The time Hasini vomited inside a mall elevator.
They laughed until tears formed briefly.
And slowly, carefully, emotional distance began dissolving without either naming it directly.
---
Then the music changed.
An old melody.
One they both knew.
Lokesh stood suddenly and extended his hand.
Shruthi looked suspicious.
“What now?”
“Dance.”
“You absolutely cannot dance.”
“That has never stopped confidence.”
She laughed and let him pull her up anyway.
---
They moved slowly in the middle of the hall.
Not proper dancing.
Just closeness.
Warmth.
Bodies remembering comfort naturally.
Shruthi’s hands rested lightly against his shoulders while Lokesh held her waist gently.
Outside, rain blurred the city.
Inside, years of marriage softened around them quietly.
---
“You’re beautiful when relaxed,” Lokesh murmured suddenly.
Shruthi looked up.
Alcohol had made his honesty more visible.
“You’re flirting properly after long time,” she whispered back.
“Hm.”
“I support this development.”
He laughed softly and leaned closer.
Then kissed her.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Not rushed desire.
Recognition.
The kind of kiss that says: I still know you.
Shruthi melted into him instinctively.
Warmth spread through her chest immediately.
For several seconds, nothing existed except:
rain,
music,
his hand against her waist,
the familiar comfort of being wanted again.
---
Lokesh kissed her again, this time lingering slightly longer.
His fingers brushed lightly along her back.
Shruthi responded immediately—
then suddenly pulled away laughing helplessly.
He blinked.
“What happened?”
“The room…” she laughed harder now, holding his arm for balance, “…is floating little.”
Lokesh stared for a second before groaning dramatically.
“You lightweight.”
“You bought cheap vodka!”
“You drank like heartbreak heroine!”
---
Both dissolved into laughter again.
The kind of laughter only long-married couples share: messy, unattractive, real.
Shruthi leaned against his chest afterward, still smiling softly while the dizziness settled heavily into her limbs.
The emotional closeness remained.
But physical energy disappeared completely.
---
Lokesh sighed theatrically.
“My romantic timing is genuinely cursed.”
Shruthi buried her face against his shoulder.
“Come sleep.”
---
Later, lying in bed beside him, Shruthi rested against his chest while rain softened outside.
Lokesh’s arm wrapped around her instinctively.
Warm.
Protective.
Familiar.
And as sleep slowly pulled them both under, Shruthi realized something important:
Sometimes intimacy wasn’t ruined by lack of love.
Only by exhaustion.
And maybe that was fixable after all.
-Pickup, drop, escape.
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