15-08-2026, 02:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-09-2026, 02:16 PM by Authorsunny. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 17 – Part 1
24 November 2025 – Monday
The morning after Laxmi Pujan began with the heavy, lingering smell of attar still sitting in the corners of the flat. The green-cloth box of dates and dry fruits remained on the folding table exactly where it had been left the previous night. Two diyas on the temple shelf had burned themselves out completely; only blackened wicks and a thin film of oil remained. The fairy lights were off. Daylight came in through the grill in a flat, grey November way.
I woke to the sound of Ma’s voice.
She was in the kitchen corner, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear, pouring water into the steel vessel with one hand. The old nighty she wore had slipped off one shoulder. Her hair was open and slightly tangled from sleep. She spoke in a low, warm tone that was already different from the voice she used with me.
“Yes… I slept… the mark is still there a little… don’t laugh… yes, I am listening…”
A short pause. She smiled at whatever he said, the same private smile I had seen in the dark two nights earlier.
“Today is better. The building will be quieter in the afternoon. Most people go out… yes, I can come… Sunny is here, but it is all right… I will ask him…”
She turned slightly and saw that my eyes were open. She did not end the call or change her tone.
“He is awake now… I will speak to him and message you… yes… saree with sleeveless blouse… as you decide… all right, Azad Sahab… I will call when we leave.”
She cut the call, kept the phone on the counter, and looked at me with a calm, almost bright expression.
“Good morning. Wake up now, it is already late.”
I sat up. The sheet fell to my waist. The air in the room still carried the denser scent from the previous night.
“That was Azad uncle?” I said.
“Yes. He asked about today. There is a mall near the highway with better shops for clothes and a proper cracker market a little further. He suggested we go together. Clothes for you, some things for the house, and crackers for the evening. He will come with the car.”
She said it as if she was announcing a normal family outing.
“We?”
“You and I. He will drive. It is simpler. The bike is new, no need to take it into that traffic today.”
She poured the tea and brought both glasses to the folding table. When she sat opposite me the nighty stretched across her full breasts.
“I will mostly wear saree again for today,” she said after a first sip. “Something a little better and more comfortable than yesterday’s. Yesterday’s was specifically for puja. Today I want something lighter, something that feels expensive. You also wear something nice, beta. Maybe that new shirt you last wore for the office function. It will suit you.”
I smiled and nodded.
She finished her tea faster than usual, stood up, and opened the almirah. From the upper shelf she took out a carefully folded peach colored saree I had never seen her wear before.
The blouse was the same soft peach, made of raw silk. She also took out a small plastic box of jewellery and a bottle of liquid foundation she rarely used.
“I am going to get ready properly today,” she said, almost to herself. “It is still celebration time. No need to look half-done.”
She carried the folded peach saree, the matching blouse, a fresh petticoat and the small jewellery box into the bathroom and pushed the door until it rested against the frame. The usual narrow gap remained. I stayed near the almirah, close enough to see without making my presence obvious.
The nighty came off first. She pulled it over her head in one smooth motion and dropped it on the stool. For a few clear seconds she stood completely bare except for the plain light-grey panties that sat low on her hips. The morning light from the tiny bathroom window fell across her skin. Her breasts were full and heavy, the dark nipples soft in the warm air. They shifted with the slight movement of her breathing. Her stomach was smooth, the waist still defined, the hips wide and rounded. The grey cloth of the panties cut across the fullest part of her seat, the fabric stretching whenever she turned.
She took the black lace bra from the stool. Thin lace cups, satin underband, delicate enough that skin showed through the pattern. She bent forward from the waist, let her breasts fall into the cups, and reached behind to hook it. The lace settled and lifted, gathering the soft weight into a full, rounded shape. She adjusted each side with her fingers, making sure the underwire sat correctly, then straightened. The black lace against her wheatish skin looked deliberate and private. The deep cleavage it created was already pronounced.
Next she stepped into the petticoat, pulled it up, and tied the drawstring firmly at her waist. The cotton sat smooth over her hips. Then she picked up the soft peach blouse. It was sleeveless, made of the same fine material as the saree, with a wide scoop neck and thin straps that left her shoulders and the upper part of her chest completely open. She slipped her arms through the straps and pulled the blouse down. The wide neck dropped low. The thin straps sat delicately on her shoulders. The fit was close, it held her firmly and made the soft upper curve of her breasts rise clearly above the neckline. The black lace of the bra was visible in a thin line along the edges whenever she moved.
She then pulled out a golden necklace from the jewelry box and tried to put it on. She tried to clasp the hook multiple times, but she just couldn't do it.
Then she called out.
“Sunny. Come for a minute.”
24 November 2025 – Monday
The morning after Laxmi Pujan began with the heavy, lingering smell of attar still sitting in the corners of the flat. The green-cloth box of dates and dry fruits remained on the folding table exactly where it had been left the previous night. Two diyas on the temple shelf had burned themselves out completely; only blackened wicks and a thin film of oil remained. The fairy lights were off. Daylight came in through the grill in a flat, grey November way.
I woke to the sound of Ma’s voice.
She was in the kitchen corner, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear, pouring water into the steel vessel with one hand. The old nighty she wore had slipped off one shoulder. Her hair was open and slightly tangled from sleep. She spoke in a low, warm tone that was already different from the voice she used with me.
“Yes… I slept… the mark is still there a little… don’t laugh… yes, I am listening…”
A short pause. She smiled at whatever he said, the same private smile I had seen in the dark two nights earlier.
“Today is better. The building will be quieter in the afternoon. Most people go out… yes, I can come… Sunny is here, but it is all right… I will ask him…”
She turned slightly and saw that my eyes were open. She did not end the call or change her tone.
“He is awake now… I will speak to him and message you… yes… saree with sleeveless blouse… as you decide… all right, Azad Sahab… I will call when we leave.”
She cut the call, kept the phone on the counter, and looked at me with a calm, almost bright expression.
“Good morning. Wake up now, it is already late.”
I sat up. The sheet fell to my waist. The air in the room still carried the denser scent from the previous night.
“That was Azad uncle?” I said.
“Yes. He asked about today. There is a mall near the highway with better shops for clothes and a proper cracker market a little further. He suggested we go together. Clothes for you, some things for the house, and crackers for the evening. He will come with the car.”
She said it as if she was announcing a normal family outing.
“We?”
“You and I. He will drive. It is simpler. The bike is new, no need to take it into that traffic today.”
She poured the tea and brought both glasses to the folding table. When she sat opposite me the nighty stretched across her full breasts.
“I will mostly wear saree again for today,” she said after a first sip. “Something a little better and more comfortable than yesterday’s. Yesterday’s was specifically for puja. Today I want something lighter, something that feels expensive. You also wear something nice, beta. Maybe that new shirt you last wore for the office function. It will suit you.”
I smiled and nodded.
She finished her tea faster than usual, stood up, and opened the almirah. From the upper shelf she took out a carefully folded peach colored saree I had never seen her wear before.
The blouse was the same soft peach, made of raw silk. She also took out a small plastic box of jewellery and a bottle of liquid foundation she rarely used.
“I am going to get ready properly today,” she said, almost to herself. “It is still celebration time. No need to look half-done.”
She carried the folded peach saree, the matching blouse, a fresh petticoat and the small jewellery box into the bathroom and pushed the door until it rested against the frame. The usual narrow gap remained. I stayed near the almirah, close enough to see without making my presence obvious.
The nighty came off first. She pulled it over her head in one smooth motion and dropped it on the stool. For a few clear seconds she stood completely bare except for the plain light-grey panties that sat low on her hips. The morning light from the tiny bathroom window fell across her skin. Her breasts were full and heavy, the dark nipples soft in the warm air. They shifted with the slight movement of her breathing. Her stomach was smooth, the waist still defined, the hips wide and rounded. The grey cloth of the panties cut across the fullest part of her seat, the fabric stretching whenever she turned.
She took the black lace bra from the stool. Thin lace cups, satin underband, delicate enough that skin showed through the pattern. She bent forward from the waist, let her breasts fall into the cups, and reached behind to hook it. The lace settled and lifted, gathering the soft weight into a full, rounded shape. She adjusted each side with her fingers, making sure the underwire sat correctly, then straightened. The black lace against her wheatish skin looked deliberate and private. The deep cleavage it created was already pronounced.
Next she stepped into the petticoat, pulled it up, and tied the drawstring firmly at her waist. The cotton sat smooth over her hips. Then she picked up the soft peach blouse. It was sleeveless, made of the same fine material as the saree, with a wide scoop neck and thin straps that left her shoulders and the upper part of her chest completely open. She slipped her arms through the straps and pulled the blouse down. The wide neck dropped low. The thin straps sat delicately on her shoulders. The fit was close, it held her firmly and made the soft upper curve of her breasts rise clearly above the neckline. The black lace of the bra was visible in a thin line along the edges whenever she moved.
She then pulled out a golden necklace from the jewelry box and tried to put it on. She tried to clasp the hook multiple times, but she just couldn't do it.
Then she called out.
“Sunny. Come for a minute.”
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