27-09-2026, 12:54 AM
Mohan stepped inside, placing his laptop bag near the sofa.
? Mohan: “Hey… you seem unusually quiet.”
Padma offered a faint smile, trying to hide the tangled thoughts that had occupied her all afternoon.
? Padma: “Nothing. Just a bit tired.”
He stepped closer, studying her face.
? Mohan: “Did you get any sleep?”
She hesitated for a split second.
? Padma: “A little.”
She turned toward the kitchen before he could notice the warm flush rising on her cheeks. Mohan followed her with a curious smile.
? Mohan: “You look like you’ve been thinking about something all day.”
Padma glanced back over her shoulder.
? Padma: “Maybe I have.”
There was a subtle, unexpected softness in her voice that hadn’t been there that morning. Mohan noticed the shift, but chose not to push.
They settled into their usual evening routine, talking about ordinary things—his workday, dinner, and routine household chores. Yet, every so often, Padma caught herself stealing glances at him. The unsettling afternoon dream, fused with the remnants of last night's confessions, lingered heavily at the back of her mind.
After changing into comfortable clothes, Mohan came into the living room where Padma had prepared two cups of tea.
? Mohan: “So, how was your afternoon really?”
Padma handed him his cup.
? Padma: “Quiet. I rested for a while.”
He smiled, taking a warm sip.
? Mohan: “You really needed it.”
She sat beside him on the sofa, trying to keep her posture casual. But the memory of her afternoon dream kept her unusually self-conscious.
Mohan caught her staring off into space.
? Mohan: “There’s definitely something on your mind.”
Padma looked at him, then let out a faint, embarrassed laugh.
? Padma: “Nothing important. Just a strange dream.”
? Mohan: “A strange dream? About what?”
She immediately looked away, her eyes fixing on her teacup.
? Padma: “Forget it, Mohan.”
Mohan laughed softly, leaning in a little closer.
? Mohan: “Now you’ve made me curious.”
Padma shook her head firmly.
? Padma: “No. I’m definitely not telling you.”
She stood up quickly and took her cup toward the kitchen counter, pretending to focus on dinner prep. Inside, her thoughts were spinning: Why is that foolish dream still affecting me like this? She took a slow, deep breath, forcing herself to push the lingering images away. Tonight, she resolved, she would simply be Mohan’s wife. Nothing more.
The rest of the evening passed quietly. They ate dinner together, and for a short while, the suffocating tension of the past few days seemed to fade.
While clearing the table, Mohan looked at her teasingly.
? Mohan: “You’ve still barely said ten words tonight.”
? Padma: “I told you, I’m just tired.”
? Mohan: “Or maybe that mysterious dream was far more interesting than you’re letting on.”
Padma shot him an embarrassed, mock-stern look.
? Padma: “Mohan! I already told you—it was nothing!”
He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender.
? Mohan: “Okay, okay. I won’t ask.”
Padma smiled despite herself, feeling a brief, comforting flicker of normalcy return between them.
Then, her phone vibrated sharply on the wooden dining table.
Her smile vanished.
Padma glanced down at the screen.
? Rajan: “Hope you had an interesting afternoon.”
Padma stared at the text, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. She didn't understand what he meant—was he referencing her dream, or was he just playing another psychological mind game?
She quickly locked the screen and turned the phone face down.
Mohan saw the color drain from her face.
? Mohan: “Was that Rajan?”
Padma nodded slowly.
? Padma: “Yes.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room once again. The fragile peace was instantly shattered, replaced by the same dread that had haunted them the night before. But this time, beneath the fear, a new and sharper question began to form in Padma’s mind: How much of this is Rajan watching us... and how much of it is my own mind giving him power?
Padma kept the phone face down on the wooden table, her knuckles white against the dark glass.
Mohan’s eyes narrowed as he leaned across the sofa, his voice dropping into a tense, hushed murmur.
? Mohan: “Wait. Why would he say afternoon?”
Padma avoided his gaze, her chest rising and falling beneath her loose cotton top as her skin flushed with a sudden, restless warmth.
? Padma: “I don’t know, Mohan. Maybe he’s just throwing out words to scare us.”
? Mohan: “Padma… did you talk to him today while I was at the office?”
? Padma: “No!”
? Mohan: “Did you text him? Did he call you?”
She shook her head, her long dark hair swaying loose against her shoulders.
? Padma: “No, Mohan! I didn’t touch my phone all afternoon. Nothing happened!”
Mohan’s gaze lingered on her, tracing the sudden, flustered tightness in her posture. He wasn't convinced. The faint softness she had shown earlier—the quiet, self-conscious smile she had worn when talking about her "strange dream"—suddenly took on a far darker, more provocative weight in his mind.
? Mohan: “Then why that specific word, Padma? Why afternoon?”
Padma turned her face away, a sharp edge of defensiveness rising in her voice to mask the heat burning in her cheeks.
? Padma: “I don’t know! He’s playing mind games! Don’t turn every single word into some dirty mystery!”
Mohan fell silent, the tension between them growing thick, electric, and heavy with unspoken suspicion.
Bzzzz.
The sudden vibration of the phone on the table felt like a physical shock. Both of them froze, their eyes locking onto the glowing screen.
Slowly, with a trembling hand, Padma picked it up.
? Rajan: “You don’t have to tell Mohan everything, Padma. Some thoughts and dreams are better kept with you only like Sati Savitri .”
The breath caught in Padma’s throat. A wave of cold prickles washed over her skin, immediately followed by an intense, humiliating heat that pooled deep in her chest.
Mohan leaned over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the glowing text. His jaw tightened as he looked directly into her wide, panicked eyes.
? Mohan: “What thoughts, Padma? What is he talking about?”
Padma couldn't speak. In that suffocating second, the vivid, forbidden images of her afternoon dream—the lingering echoes of Rajan’s voice, the crude fantasies Mohan had confessed, and the shameful way her own body had responded—flooded her mind all at once.
She slammed the phone face down, clutching it tight against her chest as if trying to physically lock her secrets inside.
? Padma: “I… I don’t know what he’s talking about, Mohan. He’s lying!”
Mohan stared at her, his expression a turbulent mix of hurt, jealousy, and burning curiosity. For the first time, he didn't believe her denial. He could see the guilt written in the curve of her throat, the rapid pulse at her collarbone, and the undeniable flush of a woman caught in a secret thought.
And as the quiet of the room settled over them, a far more terrifying, intoxicating question took root in the dark:
How could Rajan possibly know what Padma had been thinking about that afternoon?
Mohan: “Padma… think carefully. Did anything happen this afternoon that you haven’t told me?”
Padma’s face became tense.
? Padma: “No. I was at home. I had lunch, did some work, and took a nap. That’s all.”
She deliberately left out the dream and her private curiosity, not because she wanted to deceive him, but because she felt too embarrassed to explain it.
Mohan noticed her hesitation.
? Mohan: “You’re hiding something.”
? Padma: “I’m not hiding anything important.”
Before he could respond, his own phone vibrated.
He picked it up.
A message from Rajan.
? Rajan: “Mohan, don’t ask her questions she isn’t ready to answer.”
Mohan’s expression hardened.
He immediately looked at Padma.
? Mohan: “He’s doing this deliberately.”
Padma swallowed.
? Padma: “Maybe he just wants us to fight.”
Padma’s phone vibrated again, the sharp buzz slicing through the heavy air of the living room.
She looked down at the screen.
? Rajan: “Don’t worry, Padma. I won’t tell Mohan what you were curious about today.”
The color drained from her face instantly. Her heart leaped into her throat, sending a sudden, prickling wave of heat straight to her cheeks.
Before she could press the power button to lock the screen, Mohan’s hand reached out, swift and firm, pulling the phone right out of her trembling fingers.
? Padma: “Mohan… wait—”
He ignored her plea, his eyes scanning the new message. His jaw tightened as he looked up, his gaze locking onto her flushed face.
? Mohan: “What was he talking about, Padma? What were you curious about?”
Padma lowered her eyes, unable to meet the burning intensity in his gaze. Her silence was a quiet confession in itself.
Without a word, Mohan tapped the browser icon on her phone and pulled up the recent search history. His thumb scrolled slowly down the screen.
Suddenly, his thumb froze.
The silence between them stretched paper-thin, heavy with an electric, suffocating tension. The color shifted in Mohan’s face as he stared at the exact words listed in her private search logs—the explicit adult search terms, the names of famous porn stars, and the crude, forbidden phrases he had confessed to her the night before.
He slowly looked up at his wife. The traditional, shy, soft-spoken woman sitting beside him was sitting with her shoulders curled inward, her hands tucked tightly in her lap, her whole body radiating a deep, helpless embarrassment.
? Mohan: “Padma… you searched for all this?”
Her chest rose and fell in a fast, shallow rhythm beneath her cotton top. She gave a single, tiny nod.
? Padma: “Yes…”
There was no anger or defiance in her voice—only the quiet, burning shame of being exposed.
Mohan sat completely still for a moment, his mind churning as he tried to reconcile the modest woman he knew with the forbidden curiosity now sitting open on the screen between them.
? Mohan: “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Padma finally raised her eyes, her dark gaze wide and glossy with unshed tears.
? Padma: “Because I was embarrassed, Mohan… I’ve never looked up things like that in my life.”
She looked down again, her fingers twisting the fabric of her casual trousers.
Padma remained silent for a long beat, her breath coming in soft, uneven hitches. Then, she hesitantly looked back at him, her voice barely above a whisper.
? Padma: “There was… something else.”
? Mohan: “What else?”
She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, her neck flushed dark with warmth.
? Padma: “I had a dream this afternoon.”
Mohan stared at her, slightly puzzled.
? Mohan: “A dream?”
She nodded, her voice tight with humiliation.
? Padma: “After I searched those things… I fell asleep. I dreamed about… about him. Not really him, maybe. My mind was just mixing up everything you told me, everything I read, and… him.”
Mohan listened, but he didn't take the dream seriously. To him, dreams were just random firings of a tired brain.
? Mohan: “Padma, a dream isn’t something Rajan could possibly know. You didn’t tell anyone about it.”
? Padma: “I know,” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “That’s why I’m frightened. How did he send that message right after I woke up?”
Mohan sat back on the sofa, his brow furrowed deeply as a cold realization began to take shape in his head.
? Mohan: “Maybe he isn't reading your mind, Padma. Maybe he’s getting information from somewhere else.”
? Padma: “What do you mean?”
? Mohan: “I don’t know yet… I’m just thinking of the possibilities.”
Eventually, unable to find an answer in the dark, they switched off the living room lights and went to bed.
While Padma lay under the sheet, turning restlessly and wondering how Rajan could somehow sense her innermost thoughts, Mohan lay awake beside her in the dark. He stared up at the shadowy ceiling, his mind locked on one terrifying, undeniable possibility:
What if Rajan hadn't read her mind at all... but had full, real-time access to her phone's search logs, browser data, and screen history?
? Mohan: “Hey… you seem unusually quiet.”
Padma offered a faint smile, trying to hide the tangled thoughts that had occupied her all afternoon.
? Padma: “Nothing. Just a bit tired.”
He stepped closer, studying her face.
? Mohan: “Did you get any sleep?”
She hesitated for a split second.
? Padma: “A little.”
She turned toward the kitchen before he could notice the warm flush rising on her cheeks. Mohan followed her with a curious smile.
? Mohan: “You look like you’ve been thinking about something all day.”
Padma glanced back over her shoulder.
? Padma: “Maybe I have.”
There was a subtle, unexpected softness in her voice that hadn’t been there that morning. Mohan noticed the shift, but chose not to push.
They settled into their usual evening routine, talking about ordinary things—his workday, dinner, and routine household chores. Yet, every so often, Padma caught herself stealing glances at him. The unsettling afternoon dream, fused with the remnants of last night's confessions, lingered heavily at the back of her mind.
After changing into comfortable clothes, Mohan came into the living room where Padma had prepared two cups of tea.
? Mohan: “So, how was your afternoon really?”
Padma handed him his cup.
? Padma: “Quiet. I rested for a while.”
He smiled, taking a warm sip.
? Mohan: “You really needed it.”
She sat beside him on the sofa, trying to keep her posture casual. But the memory of her afternoon dream kept her unusually self-conscious.
Mohan caught her staring off into space.
? Mohan: “There’s definitely something on your mind.”
Padma looked at him, then let out a faint, embarrassed laugh.
? Padma: “Nothing important. Just a strange dream.”
? Mohan: “A strange dream? About what?”
She immediately looked away, her eyes fixing on her teacup.
? Padma: “Forget it, Mohan.”
Mohan laughed softly, leaning in a little closer.
? Mohan: “Now you’ve made me curious.”
Padma shook her head firmly.
? Padma: “No. I’m definitely not telling you.”
She stood up quickly and took her cup toward the kitchen counter, pretending to focus on dinner prep. Inside, her thoughts were spinning: Why is that foolish dream still affecting me like this? She took a slow, deep breath, forcing herself to push the lingering images away. Tonight, she resolved, she would simply be Mohan’s wife. Nothing more.
The rest of the evening passed quietly. They ate dinner together, and for a short while, the suffocating tension of the past few days seemed to fade.
While clearing the table, Mohan looked at her teasingly.
? Mohan: “You’ve still barely said ten words tonight.”
? Padma: “I told you, I’m just tired.”
? Mohan: “Or maybe that mysterious dream was far more interesting than you’re letting on.”
Padma shot him an embarrassed, mock-stern look.
? Padma: “Mohan! I already told you—it was nothing!”
He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender.
? Mohan: “Okay, okay. I won’t ask.”
Padma smiled despite herself, feeling a brief, comforting flicker of normalcy return between them.
Then, her phone vibrated sharply on the wooden dining table.
Her smile vanished.
Padma glanced down at the screen.
? Rajan: “Hope you had an interesting afternoon.”
Padma stared at the text, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. She didn't understand what he meant—was he referencing her dream, or was he just playing another psychological mind game?
She quickly locked the screen and turned the phone face down.
Mohan saw the color drain from her face.
? Mohan: “Was that Rajan?”
Padma nodded slowly.
? Padma: “Yes.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room once again. The fragile peace was instantly shattered, replaced by the same dread that had haunted them the night before. But this time, beneath the fear, a new and sharper question began to form in Padma’s mind: How much of this is Rajan watching us... and how much of it is my own mind giving him power?
Padma kept the phone face down on the wooden table, her knuckles white against the dark glass.
Mohan’s eyes narrowed as he leaned across the sofa, his voice dropping into a tense, hushed murmur.
? Mohan: “Wait. Why would he say afternoon?”
Padma avoided his gaze, her chest rising and falling beneath her loose cotton top as her skin flushed with a sudden, restless warmth.
? Padma: “I don’t know, Mohan. Maybe he’s just throwing out words to scare us.”
? Mohan: “Padma… did you talk to him today while I was at the office?”
? Padma: “No!”
? Mohan: “Did you text him? Did he call you?”
She shook her head, her long dark hair swaying loose against her shoulders.
? Padma: “No, Mohan! I didn’t touch my phone all afternoon. Nothing happened!”
Mohan’s gaze lingered on her, tracing the sudden, flustered tightness in her posture. He wasn't convinced. The faint softness she had shown earlier—the quiet, self-conscious smile she had worn when talking about her "strange dream"—suddenly took on a far darker, more provocative weight in his mind.
? Mohan: “Then why that specific word, Padma? Why afternoon?”
Padma turned her face away, a sharp edge of defensiveness rising in her voice to mask the heat burning in her cheeks.
? Padma: “I don’t know! He’s playing mind games! Don’t turn every single word into some dirty mystery!”
Mohan fell silent, the tension between them growing thick, electric, and heavy with unspoken suspicion.
Bzzzz.
The sudden vibration of the phone on the table felt like a physical shock. Both of them froze, their eyes locking onto the glowing screen.
Slowly, with a trembling hand, Padma picked it up.
? Rajan: “You don’t have to tell Mohan everything, Padma. Some thoughts and dreams are better kept with you only like Sati Savitri .”
The breath caught in Padma’s throat. A wave of cold prickles washed over her skin, immediately followed by an intense, humiliating heat that pooled deep in her chest.
Mohan leaned over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the glowing text. His jaw tightened as he looked directly into her wide, panicked eyes.
? Mohan: “What thoughts, Padma? What is he talking about?”
Padma couldn't speak. In that suffocating second, the vivid, forbidden images of her afternoon dream—the lingering echoes of Rajan’s voice, the crude fantasies Mohan had confessed, and the shameful way her own body had responded—flooded her mind all at once.
She slammed the phone face down, clutching it tight against her chest as if trying to physically lock her secrets inside.
? Padma: “I… I don’t know what he’s talking about, Mohan. He’s lying!”
Mohan stared at her, his expression a turbulent mix of hurt, jealousy, and burning curiosity. For the first time, he didn't believe her denial. He could see the guilt written in the curve of her throat, the rapid pulse at her collarbone, and the undeniable flush of a woman caught in a secret thought.
And as the quiet of the room settled over them, a far more terrifying, intoxicating question took root in the dark:
How could Rajan possibly know what Padma had been thinking about that afternoon?
Mohan: “Padma… think carefully. Did anything happen this afternoon that you haven’t told me?”
Padma’s face became tense.
? Padma: “No. I was at home. I had lunch, did some work, and took a nap. That’s all.”
She deliberately left out the dream and her private curiosity, not because she wanted to deceive him, but because she felt too embarrassed to explain it.
Mohan noticed her hesitation.
? Mohan: “You’re hiding something.”
? Padma: “I’m not hiding anything important.”
Before he could respond, his own phone vibrated.
He picked it up.
A message from Rajan.
? Rajan: “Mohan, don’t ask her questions she isn’t ready to answer.”
Mohan’s expression hardened.
He immediately looked at Padma.
? Mohan: “He’s doing this deliberately.”
Padma swallowed.
? Padma: “Maybe he just wants us to fight.”
Padma’s phone vibrated again, the sharp buzz slicing through the heavy air of the living room.
She looked down at the screen.
? Rajan: “Don’t worry, Padma. I won’t tell Mohan what you were curious about today.”
The color drained from her face instantly. Her heart leaped into her throat, sending a sudden, prickling wave of heat straight to her cheeks.
Before she could press the power button to lock the screen, Mohan’s hand reached out, swift and firm, pulling the phone right out of her trembling fingers.
? Padma: “Mohan… wait—”
He ignored her plea, his eyes scanning the new message. His jaw tightened as he looked up, his gaze locking onto her flushed face.
? Mohan: “What was he talking about, Padma? What were you curious about?”
Padma lowered her eyes, unable to meet the burning intensity in his gaze. Her silence was a quiet confession in itself.
Without a word, Mohan tapped the browser icon on her phone and pulled up the recent search history. His thumb scrolled slowly down the screen.
Suddenly, his thumb froze.
The silence between them stretched paper-thin, heavy with an electric, suffocating tension. The color shifted in Mohan’s face as he stared at the exact words listed in her private search logs—the explicit adult search terms, the names of famous porn stars, and the crude, forbidden phrases he had confessed to her the night before.
He slowly looked up at his wife. The traditional, shy, soft-spoken woman sitting beside him was sitting with her shoulders curled inward, her hands tucked tightly in her lap, her whole body radiating a deep, helpless embarrassment.
? Mohan: “Padma… you searched for all this?”
Her chest rose and fell in a fast, shallow rhythm beneath her cotton top. She gave a single, tiny nod.
? Padma: “Yes…”
There was no anger or defiance in her voice—only the quiet, burning shame of being exposed.
Mohan sat completely still for a moment, his mind churning as he tried to reconcile the modest woman he knew with the forbidden curiosity now sitting open on the screen between them.
? Mohan: “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Padma finally raised her eyes, her dark gaze wide and glossy with unshed tears.
? Padma: “Because I was embarrassed, Mohan… I’ve never looked up things like that in my life.”
She looked down again, her fingers twisting the fabric of her casual trousers.
Padma remained silent for a long beat, her breath coming in soft, uneven hitches. Then, she hesitantly looked back at him, her voice barely above a whisper.
? Padma: “There was… something else.”
? Mohan: “What else?”
She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, her neck flushed dark with warmth.
? Padma: “I had a dream this afternoon.”
Mohan stared at her, slightly puzzled.
? Mohan: “A dream?”
She nodded, her voice tight with humiliation.
? Padma: “After I searched those things… I fell asleep. I dreamed about… about him. Not really him, maybe. My mind was just mixing up everything you told me, everything I read, and… him.”
Mohan listened, but he didn't take the dream seriously. To him, dreams were just random firings of a tired brain.
? Mohan: “Padma, a dream isn’t something Rajan could possibly know. You didn’t tell anyone about it.”
? Padma: “I know,” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “That’s why I’m frightened. How did he send that message right after I woke up?”
Mohan sat back on the sofa, his brow furrowed deeply as a cold realization began to take shape in his head.
? Mohan: “Maybe he isn't reading your mind, Padma. Maybe he’s getting information from somewhere else.”
? Padma: “What do you mean?”
? Mohan: “I don’t know yet… I’m just thinking of the possibilities.”
Eventually, unable to find an answer in the dark, they switched off the living room lights and went to bed.
While Padma lay under the sheet, turning restlessly and wondering how Rajan could somehow sense her innermost thoughts, Mohan lay awake beside her in the dark. He stared up at the shadowy ceiling, his mind locked on one terrifying, undeniable possibility:
What if Rajan hadn't read her mind at all... but had full, real-time access to her phone's search logs, browser data, and screen history?
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)