25-07-2026, 05:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 25-07-2026, 05:46 PM by heygiwriter. Edited 3 times in total. Edited 3 times in total.)
Chapter 2: Six Months Before
Jeeva’s mind reeled back to six months. - Seventh Year Anniversary day.
He woke to the soft weight of tara’s thigh dbangd over his and the early light already touching the edge of the bed. It was their seventh anniversary. No big trip this year — the kid was staying with tara’s parents because their place was closer to the kindergarten. Both sets of parents had still claimed them for dinner later, so they had kept the morning completely for themselves.
She was still half-asleep when he kissed the back of her neck. She made a small sound and pushed back against him, already knowing what he wanted. He slid his hand under the loose t-shirt she slept in, found her breast, and felt the nipple tighten under his palm. tara turned her face into the pillow and smiled.
“Happy anniversary,” she murmured.
“Happy anniversary.”
He pulled the t-shirt up and off. She helped, arms raised, then settled on her back and looked at him the way she always did when she was ready — open, unhurried, completely at ease. Jeeva took a moment just to look.
Her face was the first thing that had ever truly stopped him. Sharp, elegant, whitish, the kind of face that made people look twice even when she wore no makeup. A real face card. Her body was softer, real. Flat stomach that had somehow returned after the baby. Breasts that were not too big, not small — exactly the size he could try take fully into his mouth. Hips that were full without being dramatic. Average in the way most real women were.
He ran his palm slowly down her side.
“You’re not rankable like any actress,” he said quietly. “You have a great face card… whitish, clean. And these—” he cupped one breast, thumb brushing the nipple “—adequate. Perfect size. I can take the whole thing in my mouth. Not too big, not small. You’re adequate in every way.”
tara laughed under her breath, a little shy even after seven years.
“But I would rate you more than any woman in the world,” he continued, leaning down to kiss the valley between her breasts, “because you are my tara. You still look the same. Not even aged. Seven years have passed and you still look like a college beauty who was never touched.”
He moved lower, kissing the soft skin of her stomach.
“If anyone ever undressed you and really saw you… they wouldn’t leave without tasting you. You’re such a hidden beauty. And I’ve been treasuring you only for myself.”
She pulled him up by the hair and kissed him hard, smiling against his mouth.
“You’re so dramatic in the morning.”
“I’m honest in the morning.”
He kissed her slowly, tasting morning on her tongue, then moved down between her legs. She opened for him without being asked. He licked her the way she liked — flat tongue, steady pressure, no rush — until her fingers found his hair and her breathing changed. When she was wet enough he climbed back up, pushed inside her in one smooth stroke, and stayed still for a second, forehead against hers.
![[Image: 752016179_slow_passionate-8531.gif]](https://img2.pixhost.cc/images/9598/752016179_slow_passionate-8531.gif)
“Seven years,” he said.
She laughed under him, soft and warm. “You’re counting while you’re inside me?”
“I’m allowed.”
He started moving — deep, unhurried strokes that made the bed shift quietly. She wrapped her legs around him and met every thrust. They didn’t speak for a while. The only sounds were skin and breath and the occasional small moan she tried to keep low.
After a few minutes she pulled his head down and spoke against his ear.
“Remember the first time we actually talked? Not the formal meeting. The real one.”
He smiled into her neck. “You mean the day after the wedding when you told me you didn’t know how to make filter coffee and I pretended I did?”
“You burned the milk.”
“You still drank it.”
Yes, We started everything imperfect, i dont know how we stay happy, unbothered, not even fighting, are we missing something.
Jeeva: Yea we miss imperfect love making.
She laughed again, the sound vibrating against his chest. He kept moving inside her, slower now, listening.
They had been complete strangers on the wedding day. Families had decided, horoscopes had matched, and two people who had never spoken properly were married before they turned twenty-three. The first month had been polite, careful, almost shy. Then one ordinary evening she had sat beside him on the balcony and said, “I don’t know if I love you yet, but I like the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching.” That was the moment something real began. Slowly, without fireworks, they had fallen in love the old-fashioned way — by living together, by choosing each other every day, by never needing to perform.
The child had come three years later. Their first few years were spend on visiting various countries, what was started as fun at honeymoon, stayed long, they skipped planning for baby. 3 years later, the child is in Kindergarten now. Family on both sides still hovered helpfully. The social account had started as a private joke on their honeymoon and somehow become a quiet side career. Through all of it they had never had a real fight. No jealousy. No silent treatments. Just an easy, almost boring happiness that other couples seemed to find suspicious.
Jeeva thrust a little deeper and felt her tighten around him. She was close. He reached between them and rubbed her the way she needed. She came quietly, face pressed to his shoulder, body shaking once, twice. He followed a few strokes later, burying himself fully and staying there while the pleasure rolled through him.
They stayed tangled for a long time afterward, sticky and warm and reluctant to move.
“This perfect life is boring,” she said eventually, voice lazy with satisfaction.
Boring?
Am I boring to you?
She bit his shoulder leaving a tooth mark and said, i want you to fight with me like every man does.
He said then don't be understanding and be irritating like every other woman does.
They smiled at each other, realizing what kind of wavelength they have.
He was still inside her, soft now, when both their phones started ringing at the same time.
Tara reached first. The name on the screen made her sit up.
“It’s Meera.”
Jeeva’s phone showed Arjun’s name.
They answered the speaker.
Meera’s voice was tight and embarrassed. “tara… Arjun is drunk on the girls’ hostel rooftop. He’s refusing to leave. He’s shouting that I have to come up and explain myself. The warden is about to call the security officer. Can you both come? Please. He’ll listen to Jeeva.”
Arjun’s voice came faintly in the background, raw and loud: “Tell her to come up! Fifteen years and she thinks she can just—”
The line cut for a second, then Meera again, quieter. “He’s not okay. Please.”
tara looked at Jeeva. He was already reaching for his jeans.
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said into the phone, and hung up.
They dressed quickly, still smelling of sex, still carrying the soft afterglow of the anniversary morning. No one to explain to. No one to wake.
As they locked the apartment door, tara glanced at him.
“This is going to be messy.”
Jeeva nodded, but something else had already started turning quietly in the back of his mind — the same something that would, by the end of the night, change everything between them.
They didn’t know it yet.
They just got into the car and drove toward the girls’ hostel rooftop where a drunk man was shouting at the sky about the woman who had once been his entire life.
Jeeva’s mind reeled back to six months. - Seventh Year Anniversary day.
He woke to the soft weight of tara’s thigh dbangd over his and the early light already touching the edge of the bed. It was their seventh anniversary. No big trip this year — the kid was staying with tara’s parents because their place was closer to the kindergarten. Both sets of parents had still claimed them for dinner later, so they had kept the morning completely for themselves.
She was still half-asleep when he kissed the back of her neck. She made a small sound and pushed back against him, already knowing what he wanted. He slid his hand under the loose t-shirt she slept in, found her breast, and felt the nipple tighten under his palm. tara turned her face into the pillow and smiled.
“Happy anniversary,” she murmured.
“Happy anniversary.”
He pulled the t-shirt up and off. She helped, arms raised, then settled on her back and looked at him the way she always did when she was ready — open, unhurried, completely at ease. Jeeva took a moment just to look.
Her face was the first thing that had ever truly stopped him. Sharp, elegant, whitish, the kind of face that made people look twice even when she wore no makeup. A real face card. Her body was softer, real. Flat stomach that had somehow returned after the baby. Breasts that were not too big, not small — exactly the size he could try take fully into his mouth. Hips that were full without being dramatic. Average in the way most real women were.
He ran his palm slowly down her side.
“You’re not rankable like any actress,” he said quietly. “You have a great face card… whitish, clean. And these—” he cupped one breast, thumb brushing the nipple “—adequate. Perfect size. I can take the whole thing in my mouth. Not too big, not small. You’re adequate in every way.”
tara laughed under her breath, a little shy even after seven years.
“But I would rate you more than any woman in the world,” he continued, leaning down to kiss the valley between her breasts, “because you are my tara. You still look the same. Not even aged. Seven years have passed and you still look like a college beauty who was never touched.”
He moved lower, kissing the soft skin of her stomach.
“If anyone ever undressed you and really saw you… they wouldn’t leave without tasting you. You’re such a hidden beauty. And I’ve been treasuring you only for myself.”
She pulled him up by the hair and kissed him hard, smiling against his mouth.
“You’re so dramatic in the morning.”
“I’m honest in the morning.”
He kissed her slowly, tasting morning on her tongue, then moved down between her legs. She opened for him without being asked. He licked her the way she liked — flat tongue, steady pressure, no rush — until her fingers found his hair and her breathing changed. When she was wet enough he climbed back up, pushed inside her in one smooth stroke, and stayed still for a second, forehead against hers.
“Seven years,” he said.
She laughed under him, soft and warm. “You’re counting while you’re inside me?”
“I’m allowed.”
He started moving — deep, unhurried strokes that made the bed shift quietly. She wrapped her legs around him and met every thrust. They didn’t speak for a while. The only sounds were skin and breath and the occasional small moan she tried to keep low.
After a few minutes she pulled his head down and spoke against his ear.
“Remember the first time we actually talked? Not the formal meeting. The real one.”
He smiled into her neck. “You mean the day after the wedding when you told me you didn’t know how to make filter coffee and I pretended I did?”
“You burned the milk.”
“You still drank it.”
Yes, We started everything imperfect, i dont know how we stay happy, unbothered, not even fighting, are we missing something.
Jeeva: Yea we miss imperfect love making.
She laughed again, the sound vibrating against his chest. He kept moving inside her, slower now, listening.
They had been complete strangers on the wedding day. Families had decided, horoscopes had matched, and two people who had never spoken properly were married before they turned twenty-three. The first month had been polite, careful, almost shy. Then one ordinary evening she had sat beside him on the balcony and said, “I don’t know if I love you yet, but I like the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching.” That was the moment something real began. Slowly, without fireworks, they had fallen in love the old-fashioned way — by living together, by choosing each other every day, by never needing to perform.
The child had come three years later. Their first few years were spend on visiting various countries, what was started as fun at honeymoon, stayed long, they skipped planning for baby. 3 years later, the child is in Kindergarten now. Family on both sides still hovered helpfully. The social account had started as a private joke on their honeymoon and somehow become a quiet side career. Through all of it they had never had a real fight. No jealousy. No silent treatments. Just an easy, almost boring happiness that other couples seemed to find suspicious.
Jeeva thrust a little deeper and felt her tighten around him. She was close. He reached between them and rubbed her the way she needed. She came quietly, face pressed to his shoulder, body shaking once, twice. He followed a few strokes later, burying himself fully and staying there while the pleasure rolled through him.
They stayed tangled for a long time afterward, sticky and warm and reluctant to move.
“This perfect life is boring,” she said eventually, voice lazy with satisfaction.
Boring?
Am I boring to you?
She bit his shoulder leaving a tooth mark and said, i want you to fight with me like every man does.
He said then don't be understanding and be irritating like every other woman does.
They smiled at each other, realizing what kind of wavelength they have.
He was still inside her, soft now, when both their phones started ringing at the same time.
Tara reached first. The name on the screen made her sit up.
“It’s Meera.”
Jeeva’s phone showed Arjun’s name.
They answered the speaker.
Meera’s voice was tight and embarrassed. “tara… Arjun is drunk on the girls’ hostel rooftop. He’s refusing to leave. He’s shouting that I have to come up and explain myself. The warden is about to call the security officer. Can you both come? Please. He’ll listen to Jeeva.”
Arjun’s voice came faintly in the background, raw and loud: “Tell her to come up! Fifteen years and she thinks she can just—”
The line cut for a second, then Meera again, quieter. “He’s not okay. Please.”
tara looked at Jeeva. He was already reaching for his jeans.
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said into the phone, and hung up.
They dressed quickly, still smelling of sex, still carrying the soft afterglow of the anniversary morning. No one to explain to. No one to wake.
As they locked the apartment door, tara glanced at him.
“This is going to be messy.”
Jeeva nodded, but something else had already started turning quietly in the back of his mind — the same something that would, by the end of the night, change everything between them.
They didn’t know it yet.
They just got into the car and drove toward the girls’ hostel rooftop where a drunk man was shouting at the sky about the woman who had once been his entire life.
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