23-08-2026, 03:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 23-08-2026, 03:45 PM by SilverArrow. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 12: The Tuesday Exercise
The rain had not stopped for three days.
Rakesh came home at the usual time, damp umbrella leaving a trail on the floor. Monica was already at the dining table in a soft cotton kurti, hair still slightly wet from a shower.
Rakesh and Monica sat down for dinner
“How was your day?” Rakesh asked
“Usual.” Monica passed him the bowl of rice. “Conference had too many foreign delegates. Long presentations, same slides. I came back after lunch. How was yours?”
“Same. Crazy workload. Client calls till seven.”
She smiled faintly.
“I was so bored the entire evening. Thought of going out, but this stupid rain…”
Rakesh tore a piece of roti “So what did you do?”
Monica reached for the water jug…“Ranga Saab came over to exercise again. I couldn’t go anywhere because of the rain, so he called me to try some of the lighter stuff with him. I anyway was not able to go to the gym because of the rain..So I went in. It was actually fun. Better than sitting alone watching the same series again.”
A dirty, immediate heat burned low in Rakesh’s stomach. The image formed without permission: his wife in the spare room with Ranga, the same man who had trained half-naked in their house two nights earlier, the same man who so dominantly stripped them for the business presentation.
He kept his voice normal.
“You exercised with him?”
“Just a little.” Monica shrugged, serving herself more sabzi. “He showed me some shoulder things and squats. I was terrible at it. He laughed. I realised the gym instructor I had showed me all wrong all these days . It passed the time.”
Rakesh nodded slowly, eyes on his plate.
“How long?”
“Forty minutes, maybe. Then he left. I showered and started dinner.”
After dinner they sat on the sofa and put on a series neither of them really watched. Monica leaned against him lightly, the way she did on normal nights. Rakesh kept one arm around her shoulders and stared at the screen, the earlier image of the exercise still running underneath everything.
When they finally went to bed the rain was still falling. Monica fell asleep first, breathing evenly. Rakesh lay awake longer, eyes open in the dark.
Rakesh woke before the alarm.
Monica was still asleep.
He moved quietly and went to the spare room for a folder he had left in the cupboard the previous week. The moment he stepped inside, his bare foot caught on some fabric. He looked down.
A pair of large dark boxers lay on the floor, still wrinkled and clearly worn. Tangled with them were Monica’s grey gym pants — the ones she used for going to gym — damp in places, the waistband turned inside out as if they had been pulled off in a hurry. The two pieces of clothing were knotted together, the scent of sweat still faint but unmistakable in the closed room.
Rakesh stood frozen.
Why were Ranga’s boxers on their floor?
Had he exercised only in underwear then?
Why were Monica’s gym pants lying on top of them, twisted the same way?
What exactly had she been wearing while they “exercised”?
The questions arrived in a rush, each one heavier than the last. At the same time a thick, unwanted heat moved through him. The image of the two of them in this small room — Ranga half-naked, Monica in whatever remained after the gym pants came off — locked itself behind his eyes. He felt his cock harden inside his own shorts, the reaction so immediate it made his face burn with shame.
He heard movement from the bedroom. Monica was getting up.
Rakesh stepped out of the room at once, closed the door, and went straight to the bathroom. He locked it, turned on the shower, and stood under the water longer than necessary, the tangled clothes still vivid in his mind.
-----------------------------------------+++++++++
That night the rain came down in sheets.
Rakesh’s phone battery died sometime after eight. By the time he reached house it was 9:30. The by-lane behind their building was dark and shining with water. Two figures were walking slowly under a shared umbrella.
Monica and Ranga.
She saw him first and raised a hand.
“Rakesh ..where the hell you were ? Why so late? I kept calling you”
Rakesh pulled out his dead phone.
“Battery died Monica. No charge.”
Monica came closer, the umbrella still covering both her and Ranga. She was in a simple cotton kurti that had darkened slightly at the shoulders from the rain. Ranga stood beside her in a black t-shirt, his muscles bulging out.
“We waited for you,” she said. “Finally ate. Food is next to the oven — just heat it. We’re taking a short stroll. The rain slowed a little.”
Ranga gave Rakesh a small nod.
“Long day Rakesh ?”
“Yes.” Rakesh’s voice came out flatter than he intended. “You both carry on. I’ll go up.”
Monica smiled the ordinary evening smile she always gave him.
“We won’t be long.”
They turned and continued down the wet lane together. The umbrella moved as one shape. Rakesh watched them for a second longer than he needed to, then walked toward the lift.
Inside the lift he stared at his own blurred reflection in the steel wall. The morning’s discovery returned with full force — the sweaty boxers, the tangled gym pants, the questions he had not asked. Now this: his wife and Ranga walking in the rain after sharing dinner.
Rakesh felt the same dirty heat from the morning settle low in his stomach again, mixed with something colder and heavier. The proximity between Monica and the dangerous history sheeter was no longer occasional. It was growing — exercise, dinner, evening walks!
The rain had not stopped for three days.
Rakesh came home at the usual time, damp umbrella leaving a trail on the floor. Monica was already at the dining table in a soft cotton kurti, hair still slightly wet from a shower.
Rakesh and Monica sat down for dinner
“How was your day?” Rakesh asked
“Usual.” Monica passed him the bowl of rice. “Conference had too many foreign delegates. Long presentations, same slides. I came back after lunch. How was yours?”
“Same. Crazy workload. Client calls till seven.”
She smiled faintly.
“I was so bored the entire evening. Thought of going out, but this stupid rain…”
Rakesh tore a piece of roti “So what did you do?”
Monica reached for the water jug…“Ranga Saab came over to exercise again. I couldn’t go anywhere because of the rain, so he called me to try some of the lighter stuff with him. I anyway was not able to go to the gym because of the rain..So I went in. It was actually fun. Better than sitting alone watching the same series again.”
A dirty, immediate heat burned low in Rakesh’s stomach. The image formed without permission: his wife in the spare room with Ranga, the same man who had trained half-naked in their house two nights earlier, the same man who so dominantly stripped them for the business presentation.
He kept his voice normal.
“You exercised with him?”
“Just a little.” Monica shrugged, serving herself more sabzi. “He showed me some shoulder things and squats. I was terrible at it. He laughed. I realised the gym instructor I had showed me all wrong all these days . It passed the time.”
Rakesh nodded slowly, eyes on his plate.
“How long?”
“Forty minutes, maybe. Then he left. I showered and started dinner.”
After dinner they sat on the sofa and put on a series neither of them really watched. Monica leaned against him lightly, the way she did on normal nights. Rakesh kept one arm around her shoulders and stared at the screen, the earlier image of the exercise still running underneath everything.
When they finally went to bed the rain was still falling. Monica fell asleep first, breathing evenly. Rakesh lay awake longer, eyes open in the dark.
Rakesh woke before the alarm.
Monica was still asleep.
He moved quietly and went to the spare room for a folder he had left in the cupboard the previous week. The moment he stepped inside, his bare foot caught on some fabric. He looked down.
A pair of large dark boxers lay on the floor, still wrinkled and clearly worn. Tangled with them were Monica’s grey gym pants — the ones she used for going to gym — damp in places, the waistband turned inside out as if they had been pulled off in a hurry. The two pieces of clothing were knotted together, the scent of sweat still faint but unmistakable in the closed room.
Rakesh stood frozen.
Why were Ranga’s boxers on their floor?
Had he exercised only in underwear then?
Why were Monica’s gym pants lying on top of them, twisted the same way?
What exactly had she been wearing while they “exercised”?
The questions arrived in a rush, each one heavier than the last. At the same time a thick, unwanted heat moved through him. The image of the two of them in this small room — Ranga half-naked, Monica in whatever remained after the gym pants came off — locked itself behind his eyes. He felt his cock harden inside his own shorts, the reaction so immediate it made his face burn with shame.
He heard movement from the bedroom. Monica was getting up.
Rakesh stepped out of the room at once, closed the door, and went straight to the bathroom. He locked it, turned on the shower, and stood under the water longer than necessary, the tangled clothes still vivid in his mind.
-----------------------------------------+++++++++
That night the rain came down in sheets.
Rakesh’s phone battery died sometime after eight. By the time he reached house it was 9:30. The by-lane behind their building was dark and shining with water. Two figures were walking slowly under a shared umbrella.
Monica and Ranga.
She saw him first and raised a hand.
“Rakesh ..where the hell you were ? Why so late? I kept calling you”
Rakesh pulled out his dead phone.
“Battery died Monica. No charge.”
Monica came closer, the umbrella still covering both her and Ranga. She was in a simple cotton kurti that had darkened slightly at the shoulders from the rain. Ranga stood beside her in a black t-shirt, his muscles bulging out.
“We waited for you,” she said. “Finally ate. Food is next to the oven — just heat it. We’re taking a short stroll. The rain slowed a little.”
Ranga gave Rakesh a small nod.
“Long day Rakesh ?”
“Yes.” Rakesh’s voice came out flatter than he intended. “You both carry on. I’ll go up.”
Monica smiled the ordinary evening smile she always gave him.
“We won’t be long.”
They turned and continued down the wet lane together. The umbrella moved as one shape. Rakesh watched them for a second longer than he needed to, then walked toward the lift.
Inside the lift he stared at his own blurred reflection in the steel wall. The morning’s discovery returned with full force — the sweaty boxers, the tangled gym pants, the questions he had not asked. Now this: his wife and Ranga walking in the rain after sharing dinner.
Rakesh felt the same dirty heat from the morning settle low in his stomach again, mixed with something colder and heavier. The proximity between Monica and the dangerous history sheeter was no longer occasional. It was growing — exercise, dinner, evening walks!
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)