1 hour ago
(This post was last modified: 1 hour ago by SilverArrow. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Two weeks had passed since the coffee shop.
Rakesh’s fever had come down, then returned in weaker waves, leaving his body strangely drained. He slept most of the day. Even short conversations left him exhausted. Monica had started coming home earlier from office, the worry sitting permanently behind her eyes.
That evening she unlocked the apartment door a little after seven and stopped cold.
Rakesh was on the sofa, skin flushed and damp, eyes half-open and glassy. When she touched his forehead the heat shocked her.
“Rakesh?”
He tried to answer and only managed a weak sound. Monica’s stomach dropped. She grabbed her phone and called the family physician while pulling the blanket off him.
The doctor’s voice was calm but firm.
“If the fever is climbing again this late, don’t wait till morning. Bring him in. Night spikes can turn ugly.”
Monica’s hands were already shaking as she called Bahadur, the society help.
“Bahadur, please come up. Rakesh Saab needs to go to the hospital. Now.”
By the time they reached the elevator, Rakesh could barely stand. Bahadur supported most of his weight. The doors opened on the ground floor just as Ranga was walking in from the parking area, a thin folder under his arm.
He stopped when he saw them.
“What happened?”
Monica’s voice came out tighter than she intended.
“His Fever’s suddenly turned bad. We’re going to the hospital. It’s fine, we can manage”
Ranga looked at Rakesh’s half-conscious face and then at her.
“I .. I will come along…I’ll drive”
“I said we can manage,” Monica replied, the old sassy edge rising out of panic. “Bahadur is here. You don’t need to—”
“Monica.” Ranga’s tone stayed even but left no room. “I’m coming along. You’re in no condition to argue right now.”
She stared at him for a second, then gave a short, reluctant nod. The three of them got Rakesh into the back seat of the car. Monica sat with her husband’s head against her shoulder, one hand continuously checking his temperature.
At the hospital the resident doctor moved quickly. IV fluids, fever medication, continuous monitoring. Within forty minutes the temperature started coming down. Rakesh drifted into a heavy, medicated sleep.
The doctor stepped out to speak to Monica.
“We’ve controlled it for now, but he needs strict monitoring for the next two or three days. No chances. If it spikes again at night, bring him straight back.”
Monica nodded, exhaustion clear on her face. Ranga stood a few feet away, silent.
When they finally left the hospital it was past ten. Ranga helped Rakesh into the apartment and all the way to the bedroom. He adjusted the pillows while Monica set up the thermometer and medicines on the side table. Once
Rakesh was settled and breathing evenly, the two of them stepped back into the living room.
The silence felt heavier than usual.
Monica rubbed her forehead, then looked at Ranga. The memory of the cabin flashed for a second — the desk, the force, the way she had cum on his cock — and she pushed it down. Still, the hesitation showed in her eyes.
“It’s late. You’ve been running around with us for the last three hours.. You want to have dinner? .I can make something quick !”
Ranga studied her for a moment.
“No ..you please take care of Rakesh, he need to have dinner”
Monica looked at him
“I know. I’ll feed him when he wakes up. I am sure you don’t have anything cooked ..So you can stay back for dinner”
Ranga nodded “Okay”
Monica went into the kitchen. Ranga went to the room to check on Rakesh.. Ranga asked him in a twisted voice “ How you feeling brother ?”
Rakesh nodded in what was a weak acknowledgement. Ranga said “ Ok ..You rest “ and then came to the living room and switched on the television
Monica heated the leftover dal, quickly scrambled two eggs, and toasted a few slices of bread. The ordinary sounds — the scbang of the spoon, the click of the gas — felt louder than usual in the tense quiet of the apartment.
When Monica brought the plates out, he stood up and took one from her hands without comment. They sat at the dining table. For the first few minutes they ate in near silence.
Monica spoke first
“The doctor said the next two or three nights are critical. If the fever climbs again after midnight, we have to go straight back to the hospital!”
Ranga nodded, chewing slowly.
“You should set an alarm every two hours. Don’t rely on Rakesh calling out for help”
“I know.” She pushed the eggs around her plate. “He’s never been this weak before. Even after the fever breaks, he practically has no strength. It’s like the illness is sitting in his bones.”
“It happens with some hormone problems” Ranga said. “Body takes time to come back. Don’t worry so much!”
Monica nodded and then took the remote to change the television channel and put on a new Hindi movie.
“Any real movement on Deshmukh, or is he still playing games?” She asked Ranga
Ranga leaned back slightly.
“He’s feeling the pressure. I’ve made sure people above him are asking questions about why this particular file is stuck. He doesn’t like that. He’ll move. Just not as fast as we want.”
Monica gave a short, dry breath that was almost a laugh.
“You and your methods. One day you’re going to create problems that can’t be cleaned up.”
“Maybe, Yes” His eyes met hers across the table. “But this file will get cleared certainly”
The eye contact lasted a second too long. Monica looked away first, reaching for her glass of water. The discomfort flickered across her face — the memory of his hands, what happened that day inside the cabin— before she controlled it.
After dinner, Ranga casually picked up the used plate and walked towards the kitchen
"Please leave it, Ranga Saab," Monica said "I will manage that. You are a guest tonight!"
"I have two hands, Monica" Ranga replied calmly, already walking toward the kitchen sink. "And you really exhausted!"
Monica watched his broad back as he rinsed the plates quickly, the domestic normalcy of the act clashing violently with the brutal memory of what those same hands had done to her in the site cabin. The discomfort was still there, hot and shameful, but the sharpest edge of it began to slowly blunt under the bizarre reality of the night.
When Ranga walked back into the living room, Monica had moved to the sofa, sitting perfectly upright with a cushion beside her. He sat down on the opposite end, leaving a safe distance between them.
On the television, a tense interrogation scene from a new Hindi movie played out in a dark room.
Monica watched the screen for a minute before looking over at him "Do you like Crime thrillers ? I find these good time pass!”
Ranga turned his head slowly, leaning his arm against the back of the sofa. "I don't watch them," Ranga said, his dark eyes glinting with dry amusement in the dim light. "I'll only watch one if they ever decide to make a movie on my life. But I doubt the censor board would clear the script."
Monica was off guard with that joke. A genuine laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. She pressed a hand over her mouth, shaking her head, the heavy
"You are terrible," she murmured, the corners of her eyes crinkling
.
"I am just being practical," he corrected smoothly.
A few minutes later, Monica glanced at the wall clock and smoothed her kurti. "It’s time to give him his second dose of antibiotics. Excuse me for a moment."
She stood up and walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. Rakesh lay exactly as they had left him, a pale, shivering shadow under the heavy blanket. Monica gently lifted his head, coaxing him to swallow the pills with a few sips of water. He barely registered her presence before sinking back into a heavy, medicated sleep.
When she returned to the drawing room,
"You look exhausted, Monica," Ranga noted quietly. "Your eyes are completely red."
Monica gave a dismissive shrug, straightening her spine instinctively. "I’m perfectly fine. Just a long day. I'll make some strong coffee in some time!"
Ranga leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. "If I may suggest," he started “You look really exhausted.. you go and please rest, I will surely give the pills to Rakesh on time”
Monica stopped in the center of the room, her eyebrows knitting together.
"Thanks, Ranga Saab," she said politely. "But Rakesh gets very cranky when he is ill .. You’ve driven us to the hospital, carried him around, and sat here all night.. That’s enough .. Please go home and sleep"
"I appreciate the concern, Monica, but I wasn't planning on sleeping anyway," he said evenly.
With a sheepish, almost entirely unapologetic shrug, he pulled out a large, unopened bottle of Indian whiskey and placed it squarely on the glass center table.
"I find this keeps the eyes open quite effectively," Ranga laughed
Monica stared at the amber bottle, then slowly looked up at his face.
A sassy, playfully irritated smile broke across her face. She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You and your weird Methods Ranga Saab.." Monica muttered ..” you brought a bottle of whiskey to a medical emergency. What is wrong with you?"
The sharp, metallic crack of the whiskey bottle’s seal breaking sounded obscenely loud in the quiet apartment.
Monica watched from the opposite end of the sofa as Ranga unscrewed the cap. The heavy scent of the alcohol immediately cut through the sterile, medicinal smell of the apartment
"So," Monica began, crossing her legs and leaning back, "You said Deshmukh is feeling the pressure. Tell me exactly what kind of pressure you applied”
Ranga paused, holding the tumbler in one large hand. A slow, dark amusement flickered in his eyes.
"I didn't lay a finger on him. I simply joined him for his morning walk at the Botanical Gardens."
Monica’s perfectly arched eyebrows shot up. "What ? You went on a morning jog with him?"
"I walked. He sweated," Ranga corrected, leaning his arm along the back of the sofa, “ I just brought up a few public records. Specifically, the two commercial plots registered under his wife's name in South Delhi. Properties that far exceed a government servant's pay grade. I asked him if the vigilance department had updated their files lately."
Monica stared at him, a genuine, sassy smirk breaking through her exhaustion. She shook her head, letting out a sharp breath of disbelief.
"You blackmailed a senior government official publicly?" she asked, her tone laced with bold, mocking approval
"Yes Kind of.. but he is not an easy nut to crack!" Ranga replied flatly
“Hmm ..So what next ?”
Ranga drank in one go and replied “Lets see I still think he will eventually break!”
Ranga watched the tension leave her shoulders. He looked at her and offered “ You wanna have a glass with me?”
Monica glanced down at the liquid, then brought her dark eyes back up to meet his.
"No way," she said, her voice crisp and polished. "I don't drink on a Tuesday night. Certainly not while my husband is recovering from a 104-degree fever just down the hall. I’ll stick to my coffee, thank you."
He leaned back, shifting the conversation seamlessly back to business. "Deshmukh will stall for another three days,"
Ranga continued, his deep voice vibrating in the quiet room. "He has to save face eventually. He’ll ask Mishra for one more useless document—a soil report or something fucking crazy, maybe”
Monica listened, nodding slowly, but her focus was beginning to fracture.
The dim lighting caught the subtle flex of his chest under his shirt when he breathed. She found her gaze drifting to his hands—those massive, calloused hands resting so casually on his knee. A sudden, phantom heat flared deep in her belly. Her body, betraying her logic, remembered exactly what those hands felt like gripping her fleshy ass, pinning her against the rough wooden desk of the site cabin. She remembered the suffocating pleasure, the way he had stretched her apart, the filthy, breathless moans she had made while surrendering to a filthy history sheeter she was supposed to despise.
The memory was so vivid, so visceral, that she had to subtly shift her thighs together on the sofa, a flush of shameful heat creeping up her neck.
Ranga stopped talking and focused on an intense fighting scene played on the television.
Rakesh’s fever had come down, then returned in weaker waves, leaving his body strangely drained. He slept most of the day. Even short conversations left him exhausted. Monica had started coming home earlier from office, the worry sitting permanently behind her eyes.
That evening she unlocked the apartment door a little after seven and stopped cold.
Rakesh was on the sofa, skin flushed and damp, eyes half-open and glassy. When she touched his forehead the heat shocked her.
“Rakesh?”
He tried to answer and only managed a weak sound. Monica’s stomach dropped. She grabbed her phone and called the family physician while pulling the blanket off him.
The doctor’s voice was calm but firm.
“If the fever is climbing again this late, don’t wait till morning. Bring him in. Night spikes can turn ugly.”
Monica’s hands were already shaking as she called Bahadur, the society help.
“Bahadur, please come up. Rakesh Saab needs to go to the hospital. Now.”
By the time they reached the elevator, Rakesh could barely stand. Bahadur supported most of his weight. The doors opened on the ground floor just as Ranga was walking in from the parking area, a thin folder under his arm.
He stopped when he saw them.
“What happened?”
Monica’s voice came out tighter than she intended.
“His Fever’s suddenly turned bad. We’re going to the hospital. It’s fine, we can manage”
Ranga looked at Rakesh’s half-conscious face and then at her.
“I .. I will come along…I’ll drive”
“I said we can manage,” Monica replied, the old sassy edge rising out of panic. “Bahadur is here. You don’t need to—”
“Monica.” Ranga’s tone stayed even but left no room. “I’m coming along. You’re in no condition to argue right now.”
She stared at him for a second, then gave a short, reluctant nod. The three of them got Rakesh into the back seat of the car. Monica sat with her husband’s head against her shoulder, one hand continuously checking his temperature.
At the hospital the resident doctor moved quickly. IV fluids, fever medication, continuous monitoring. Within forty minutes the temperature started coming down. Rakesh drifted into a heavy, medicated sleep.
The doctor stepped out to speak to Monica.
“We’ve controlled it for now, but he needs strict monitoring for the next two or three days. No chances. If it spikes again at night, bring him straight back.”
Monica nodded, exhaustion clear on her face. Ranga stood a few feet away, silent.
When they finally left the hospital it was past ten. Ranga helped Rakesh into the apartment and all the way to the bedroom. He adjusted the pillows while Monica set up the thermometer and medicines on the side table. Once
Rakesh was settled and breathing evenly, the two of them stepped back into the living room.
The silence felt heavier than usual.
Monica rubbed her forehead, then looked at Ranga. The memory of the cabin flashed for a second — the desk, the force, the way she had cum on his cock — and she pushed it down. Still, the hesitation showed in her eyes.
“It’s late. You’ve been running around with us for the last three hours.. You want to have dinner? .I can make something quick !”
Ranga studied her for a moment.
“No ..you please take care of Rakesh, he need to have dinner”
Monica looked at him
“I know. I’ll feed him when he wakes up. I am sure you don’t have anything cooked ..So you can stay back for dinner”
Ranga nodded “Okay”
Monica went into the kitchen. Ranga went to the room to check on Rakesh.. Ranga asked him in a twisted voice “ How you feeling brother ?”
Rakesh nodded in what was a weak acknowledgement. Ranga said “ Ok ..You rest “ and then came to the living room and switched on the television
Monica heated the leftover dal, quickly scrambled two eggs, and toasted a few slices of bread. The ordinary sounds — the scbang of the spoon, the click of the gas — felt louder than usual in the tense quiet of the apartment.
When Monica brought the plates out, he stood up and took one from her hands without comment. They sat at the dining table. For the first few minutes they ate in near silence.
Monica spoke first
“The doctor said the next two or three nights are critical. If the fever climbs again after midnight, we have to go straight back to the hospital!”
Ranga nodded, chewing slowly.
“You should set an alarm every two hours. Don’t rely on Rakesh calling out for help”
“I know.” She pushed the eggs around her plate. “He’s never been this weak before. Even after the fever breaks, he practically has no strength. It’s like the illness is sitting in his bones.”
“It happens with some hormone problems” Ranga said. “Body takes time to come back. Don’t worry so much!”
Monica nodded and then took the remote to change the television channel and put on a new Hindi movie.
“Any real movement on Deshmukh, or is he still playing games?” She asked Ranga
Ranga leaned back slightly.
“He’s feeling the pressure. I’ve made sure people above him are asking questions about why this particular file is stuck. He doesn’t like that. He’ll move. Just not as fast as we want.”
Monica gave a short, dry breath that was almost a laugh.
“You and your methods. One day you’re going to create problems that can’t be cleaned up.”
“Maybe, Yes” His eyes met hers across the table. “But this file will get cleared certainly”
The eye contact lasted a second too long. Monica looked away first, reaching for her glass of water. The discomfort flickered across her face — the memory of his hands, what happened that day inside the cabin— before she controlled it.
After dinner, Ranga casually picked up the used plate and walked towards the kitchen
"Please leave it, Ranga Saab," Monica said "I will manage that. You are a guest tonight!"
"I have two hands, Monica" Ranga replied calmly, already walking toward the kitchen sink. "And you really exhausted!"
Monica watched his broad back as he rinsed the plates quickly, the domestic normalcy of the act clashing violently with the brutal memory of what those same hands had done to her in the site cabin. The discomfort was still there, hot and shameful, but the sharpest edge of it began to slowly blunt under the bizarre reality of the night.
When Ranga walked back into the living room, Monica had moved to the sofa, sitting perfectly upright with a cushion beside her. He sat down on the opposite end, leaving a safe distance between them.
On the television, a tense interrogation scene from a new Hindi movie played out in a dark room.
Monica watched the screen for a minute before looking over at him "Do you like Crime thrillers ? I find these good time pass!”
Ranga turned his head slowly, leaning his arm against the back of the sofa. "I don't watch them," Ranga said, his dark eyes glinting with dry amusement in the dim light. "I'll only watch one if they ever decide to make a movie on my life. But I doubt the censor board would clear the script."
Monica was off guard with that joke. A genuine laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. She pressed a hand over her mouth, shaking her head, the heavy
"You are terrible," she murmured, the corners of her eyes crinkling
.
"I am just being practical," he corrected smoothly.
A few minutes later, Monica glanced at the wall clock and smoothed her kurti. "It’s time to give him his second dose of antibiotics. Excuse me for a moment."
She stood up and walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. Rakesh lay exactly as they had left him, a pale, shivering shadow under the heavy blanket. Monica gently lifted his head, coaxing him to swallow the pills with a few sips of water. He barely registered her presence before sinking back into a heavy, medicated sleep.
When she returned to the drawing room,
"You look exhausted, Monica," Ranga noted quietly. "Your eyes are completely red."
Monica gave a dismissive shrug, straightening her spine instinctively. "I’m perfectly fine. Just a long day. I'll make some strong coffee in some time!"
Ranga leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. "If I may suggest," he started “You look really exhausted.. you go and please rest, I will surely give the pills to Rakesh on time”
Monica stopped in the center of the room, her eyebrows knitting together.
"Thanks, Ranga Saab," she said politely. "But Rakesh gets very cranky when he is ill .. You’ve driven us to the hospital, carried him around, and sat here all night.. That’s enough .. Please go home and sleep"
"I appreciate the concern, Monica, but I wasn't planning on sleeping anyway," he said evenly.
With a sheepish, almost entirely unapologetic shrug, he pulled out a large, unopened bottle of Indian whiskey and placed it squarely on the glass center table.
"I find this keeps the eyes open quite effectively," Ranga laughed
Monica stared at the amber bottle, then slowly looked up at his face.
A sassy, playfully irritated smile broke across her face. She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You and your weird Methods Ranga Saab.." Monica muttered ..” you brought a bottle of whiskey to a medical emergency. What is wrong with you?"
The sharp, metallic crack of the whiskey bottle’s seal breaking sounded obscenely loud in the quiet apartment.
Monica watched from the opposite end of the sofa as Ranga unscrewed the cap. The heavy scent of the alcohol immediately cut through the sterile, medicinal smell of the apartment
"So," Monica began, crossing her legs and leaning back, "You said Deshmukh is feeling the pressure. Tell me exactly what kind of pressure you applied”
Ranga paused, holding the tumbler in one large hand. A slow, dark amusement flickered in his eyes.
"I didn't lay a finger on him. I simply joined him for his morning walk at the Botanical Gardens."
Monica’s perfectly arched eyebrows shot up. "What ? You went on a morning jog with him?"
"I walked. He sweated," Ranga corrected, leaning his arm along the back of the sofa, “ I just brought up a few public records. Specifically, the two commercial plots registered under his wife's name in South Delhi. Properties that far exceed a government servant's pay grade. I asked him if the vigilance department had updated their files lately."
Monica stared at him, a genuine, sassy smirk breaking through her exhaustion. She shook her head, letting out a sharp breath of disbelief.
"You blackmailed a senior government official publicly?" she asked, her tone laced with bold, mocking approval
"Yes Kind of.. but he is not an easy nut to crack!" Ranga replied flatly
“Hmm ..So what next ?”
Ranga drank in one go and replied “Lets see I still think he will eventually break!”
Ranga watched the tension leave her shoulders. He looked at her and offered “ You wanna have a glass with me?”
Monica glanced down at the liquid, then brought her dark eyes back up to meet his.
"No way," she said, her voice crisp and polished. "I don't drink on a Tuesday night. Certainly not while my husband is recovering from a 104-degree fever just down the hall. I’ll stick to my coffee, thank you."
He leaned back, shifting the conversation seamlessly back to business. "Deshmukh will stall for another three days,"
Ranga continued, his deep voice vibrating in the quiet room. "He has to save face eventually. He’ll ask Mishra for one more useless document—a soil report or something fucking crazy, maybe”
Monica listened, nodding slowly, but her focus was beginning to fracture.
The dim lighting caught the subtle flex of his chest under his shirt when he breathed. She found her gaze drifting to his hands—those massive, calloused hands resting so casually on his knee. A sudden, phantom heat flared deep in her belly. Her body, betraying her logic, remembered exactly what those hands felt like gripping her fleshy ass, pinning her against the rough wooden desk of the site cabin. She remembered the suffocating pleasure, the way he had stretched her apart, the filthy, breathless moans she had made while surrendering to a filthy history sheeter she was supposed to despise.
The memory was so vivid, so visceral, that she had to subtly shift her thighs together on the sofa, a flush of shameful heat creeping up her neck.
Ranga stopped talking and focused on an intense fighting scene played on the television.
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