14-08-2026, 01:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-09-2026, 02:14 PM by Authorsunny.)
Chapter 15 – Late-Night Call
22 November 2025 – Saturday
The fairy lights we had put up the previous evening still glowed faintly along the window grill when I woke in the middle of the night. The main tube light was off. Only the small night bulb near the bathroom and the soft blue-white points from the grill gave any shape to the small room. Ma was not in the bed.
I lay still and listened. The ceiling fan turned its slow circle. Outside, the lane was almost quiet except for the occasional bark of a dog and the distant sound of a truck on the main road. Then I heard her voice — low, careful, coming from the kitchen corner.
She was on the phone.
The kitchen was small barely eight feet by eight feet at most, with the two-burner stove, the steel rack, and the small fridge that hummed through the night. There was no door to close. Any conversation held there at two in the morning would travel across the folding table, past the steel almirah, and reach the bed without effort. She must have known that. She had gone there anyway.
I kept my eyes closed and slowed my breathing. The pillow under my head still held the faint smell of her hair oil from earlier. I did not move.
Her voice came again, clearer now that I was fully awake and listening.
“No… he is sleeping… the fan is on, he won’t hear… yes, I came to the kitchen…”
A short pause. The fridge motor clicked on and then settled.
“I wore the navy one today… yes… I know you liked it…”
Another pause. When she spoke next her voice had softened in a way I had only heard in fragments before.
“Don’t say it like that… I am standing in my own kitchen… yes, I am alone… he is on the bed…”
I opened my eyes a fraction. In the dim light I could see the outline of her body near the stove. She stood with one hand holding the phone to her ear, the other resting on the edge of the counter. She was wearing the old cotton nighty, the one that had become thinner with washing. The neckline sat loosely. Even from the bed I could see that she had not bothered with a bra. The soft heavy shape of her breasts moved under the cloth when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
She listened for a long time. Then she gave a quiet laugh that stayed low in her throat.
“You are shameless… saying such things at this hour… yes, I am listening… I didn’t say stop…”
The fridge hummed. A scooter passed in the lane and the sound faded.
“I liked the way you spoke to me at the table… the way you looked… I know Sunny was there… I still liked it…”
My chest tightened. I forced my breathing to stay even.
She turned slightly and leaned her hip against the counter. The nighty pulled across the roundness of her seat and the full line of her thighs. She raised her free hand and touched the side of her neck absently, the same place where the mark had been days earlier.
“You want to see me tomorrow… during the day it will be difficult… there is cleaning and pooja… at night maybe… I will see…”
A longer silence. Whatever he said made her close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them her voice was even softer.
“I miss it also… the way you hold… yes… I think about it when the house is quiet… don’t make me say more, Azad Sahab… not while I am standing here like this…”
She listened again. Then she spoke in a near whisper that still carried across the small flat.
22 November 2025 – Saturday
The fairy lights we had put up the previous evening still glowed faintly along the window grill when I woke in the middle of the night. The main tube light was off. Only the small night bulb near the bathroom and the soft blue-white points from the grill gave any shape to the small room. Ma was not in the bed.
I lay still and listened. The ceiling fan turned its slow circle. Outside, the lane was almost quiet except for the occasional bark of a dog and the distant sound of a truck on the main road. Then I heard her voice — low, careful, coming from the kitchen corner.
She was on the phone.
The kitchen was small barely eight feet by eight feet at most, with the two-burner stove, the steel rack, and the small fridge that hummed through the night. There was no door to close. Any conversation held there at two in the morning would travel across the folding table, past the steel almirah, and reach the bed without effort. She must have known that. She had gone there anyway.
I kept my eyes closed and slowed my breathing. The pillow under my head still held the faint smell of her hair oil from earlier. I did not move.
Her voice came again, clearer now that I was fully awake and listening.
“No… he is sleeping… the fan is on, he won’t hear… yes, I came to the kitchen…”
A short pause. The fridge motor clicked on and then settled.
“I wore the navy one today… yes… I know you liked it…”
Another pause. When she spoke next her voice had softened in a way I had only heard in fragments before.
“Don’t say it like that… I am standing in my own kitchen… yes, I am alone… he is on the bed…”
I opened my eyes a fraction. In the dim light I could see the outline of her body near the stove. She stood with one hand holding the phone to her ear, the other resting on the edge of the counter. She was wearing the old cotton nighty, the one that had become thinner with washing. The neckline sat loosely. Even from the bed I could see that she had not bothered with a bra. The soft heavy shape of her breasts moved under the cloth when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
She listened for a long time. Then she gave a quiet laugh that stayed low in her throat.
“You are shameless… saying such things at this hour… yes, I am listening… I didn’t say stop…”
The fridge hummed. A scooter passed in the lane and the sound faded.
“I liked the way you spoke to me at the table… the way you looked… I know Sunny was there… I still liked it…”
My chest tightened. I forced my breathing to stay even.
She turned slightly and leaned her hip against the counter. The nighty pulled across the roundness of her seat and the full line of her thighs. She raised her free hand and touched the side of her neck absently, the same place where the mark had been days earlier.
“You want to see me tomorrow… during the day it will be difficult… there is cleaning and pooja… at night maybe… I will see…”
A longer silence. Whatever he said made her close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them her voice was even softer.
“I miss it also… the way you hold… yes… I think about it when the house is quiet… don’t make me say more, Azad Sahab… not while I am standing here like this…”
She listened again. Then she spoke in a near whisper that still carried across the small flat.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)