[krish_999]

Hello guys. I'm making a small announcement about my next story. 


After the Ashes


It is a short story that I've been jolting down during my free ' travels. It's shaping towards completion. Like I had said earlier, it would be less than 15 chapters. 
Hopefully you will like it like my other stories. 
Love. Krish.

Chapter release date: 
Chapter 1: 31 January 26✓
Chapter 2: 04 February 26✓
Chapter 3: 09 February 26✓
Chapter 4: 15 February 26✓
Chapter 5: 22 February 26✓
Chapter 6: 01 March 26✓
Chapter 7: 05 March 26✓
Chapter 8: 12 March 26✓
Chapter 9: 18 March 26✓
Chapter 10: 24 March 26✓
Chapter 11: 31 March 26 01 April 26✓
Chapter 12: 08 April 26 09 Apr 26✓
Chapter 13: 15 April 26 19 April 26✓
Chapter 14: 26 April 26 27 April 26✓
Chapter 15: 02 May 26 03 May 26 (Final Chapter)✓

Apologies to all readers for the delay in posting a few chapters.

[krish_999]

Thanks for the response, guys.
I am planning frequent posts for this story. This time I hope I will succeed.
For a change, I will tell you when the next chapter will be posted. I will add the date on the first post as you can see. When I post first chapter, I will tell when I will post the second and so on. 
Thanks again guys!

[krish_999]

AFTER THE ASHES

Chapter 1

The sky was bright in Dubai that morning, but Anjali sat in the dark. Luggage was packed in the night already.
She didn't even try to open the curtains to see if it was day or night. The air conditioner was on, but she didn't notice the chill. It had been like that for a while. Since her return from India after the funeral of her husband, who passed away in a gruesome accident in Dubai, it was as if all her feelings had gone numb. Days of crying had left her empty, and now there was just a dull ache in her chest. Everything sounded too quiet and purposeless.
It happened three weeks ago when Vinayak went to the airport to receive his mother. She had just arrived from India and would stay with them for a week. Anjali was supposed to go along, but Vinayak called, "You take rest, Anjali. I'll get her on my way home."
That was the last words she heard from him, except for his voice that still echoed around her.
Their cab never made it back. A truck lost control and crashed into their car on the highway. Both Vinayak and his mother were killed instantly. Anjali was home, making tea and making the bed for her mother-in-law. By the time she heard the doorbell, her world had changed.
She kept thinking about staying home that day. That one choice meant she was alive now - but sometimes she wondered if that was really lucky. She survived, but everything that mattered had gone.
Vinayak's business shut down soon after. His team made some effort to continue, only to learn that it was impossible. He had been the glue holding everything together. When Anjali returned after the funeral in India, she had thought about helping. She thought it was her purpose to continue what Vinayak had started, but she couldn't even walk into his office. Her legs felt too heavy. So she packed everything, sold what she could, and left the rest for the lawyers to sort out. After that, there was no reason to stay in Dubai anymore.
Arriving in Pune, the heat and traffic felt too bright after her many weeks of indoor stay. Vinayak's father, Madhav, had come to pick her up. He looked older and thinner than she ever remembered. The pain was right there in his eyes. He had always been Dad to her after she married Vinayak. She wanted to run to him, but her throat closed up. She could only stare at him. No words.
Neither of them said anything on the drive home.
She had asked her parents not to bother coming to the airport. She wanted the arrival to be quiet. She was going to stay in Vinayak's house after returning.
The house in Pune still looked the same - neat garden, familiar nameplate, and the trace of incense. But a sense of emptiness hung in the air, like someone had opened a window and let all the life disappear.
Their maid, Shalini, had arranged her bedroom. It was the same room she and Vinayak used to stay during their brief stay in India after marriage. The room looked different altogether, making Anjali think there had been a conscious effort to help her from falling back into memories and the pain they evoked. The layout of the room, including the mat on the floor, was changed. However, when Anjali opened the window, she spotted the guava tree in the backyard, only to remember how Vinayak used to boast about having planted that tree by himself years ago. She stood there and cried silently.
That night, they ate in near silence. Madhav pushed food around his plate, barely touching anything. If Anjali asked a question, he answered, but that was it. She realised that he wasn't just tired. Perhaps he had lost more than her. Along with his lone son, he had lost his wife too, at this juncture of a lifetime. If grief were a game, he had been thrashed to defeat at the mid-break itself, beyond any scope of a comeback.
The next day, expectedly, Anjali's father called.
"Come home, dear. It'll help you." Manohar said.
Anjali walked out to the lawn. Madhav was there, watering the plants, even though it had rained the previous night. His mind was somewhere else.
"No, daddy," Anjali said. "I'll stay. Vinayak's papa needs support, and only I can help him."
When some relatives visited, they tried to compliment her, saying that she was a good daughter-in-law for staying back. Anjali thanked them for the nice words. But their words brought no relief to what she was feeling inside. She knew their grief wasn't the same as the one she shared with Madhav.
In the nights that followed, she would find herself sitting quietly in the living room, thinking about Vinayak and Sharadha, his mom, and how much things had changed. She noticed how Madhav still kept his wife's saree in the pooja room and spent long minutes in front of Vinayak's photo until the candle burned out. She felt he was trying to question the God. A silent conversation, a confrontation, was going on every day.
His sorrow didn't need words. Anjali was convinced that she wasn't alone in her pain. And she was convinced that her pain wasn't just about how she lost her husband. It was also about how Madhav had lost even more.

One night, on her way to get water, she noticed a light still on. Madhav was sitting on the sofa, holding an old photo, shoulders shaking. For a moment, Anjali just stood there in the doorway.
Then she moved closer, unsure what to say or do.
Madhav didn’t hear her come in. Anjali noticed that the photo in his hand had a cracked frame. It was an old beach trip photo - his wife smiling in the center, Vinayak holding her waist, Anjali at the right side, and Madhav’s hands on their shoulders.
Now, two of them were gone. That's half the family. Anjali stood quietly, not wanting to disturb him. But seeing Madhav cry quietly, like a man who’d run out of ways to hold it in, touched something inside her. She hadn’t seen him like this - in the rituals, at the airport, or at dinner. It broke something in her. She sat down beside him, silent. Her hand rested gently on his arm.
He looked up, startled, then softened when he saw her. He wiped his tears and tried to steady his voice.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were awake.”
“It's alright, Dad,” she said softly.
For a while, they just sat. Two broken people, connected by the same loss.
The next morning, Anjali made tea and brought two cups to the living room. Madhav pretended to read the paper.
“Thought you might need this,” she said, placing a cup near him.
He glanced up and gave a small, rare smile. “Thanks.” They sipped in silence. Outside, birds called from the gulmohar tree.
Later, Anjali sorted through Vinayak’s old files in the shelf—documents, business cards, unfinished plans. She set some aside in a folder, unsure if they still mattered.
When Madhav came back from the bank, he saw the folder on the table.“You found these?”
She nodded. “Thought they might help if you want to try restart his business.”
He stared at it, sighed. “I'm a businessman but I haven’t been involved in any part of his. He had his own ideas. And I don't know if I'm left with the kind of energy to chase them now.”
“You don’t have to do it all at once,” she said. “We’ll take it slow.”
That “we” hung in the air longer than either expected. He noticed; she didn’t take it back.
Days passed. A quiet rhythm settled.
They shared breakfast, worked on files, took slow walks in the yard. Sometimes they spoke little; sometimes one sentence was enough.

On the fifth evening, after dinner, they watched a cooking show his wife used to love.
“I don’t know how she managed it all,” Madhav said. “Work, temple, Vinayak, me... and still smiling.”
Anjali smiled softly. “She called me every day, even just to ask what I had for breakfast.”
They laughed, the first time in weeks. Though the laughter faded quickly, they both remembered that they laughed. The silence afterward felt tender.
That weekend, relatives came - two aunts and a cousin - with fruits and kind words, followed by whispers in the kitchen.
“You’re lucky to have her,” one aunt told Madhav. “Most girls would have run home. She’s here, caring for you like a daughter.”
Madhav nodded but looked at Anjali, folding a clothe quietly in the corner. She didn’t turn, but he knew she heard.
At dinner, he said softly, “You don’t have to stay out of duty or pressure. If you want to be with your parents, I won’t stop you.”
She looked up, surprised. “No, Dad. I’m here because I want to be. This house and life... it’s all I have left.”
He studied her a long moment, then nodded.

Later, she turned off the kitchen light and walked toward her room. Her feet brushed the cold floor tiles quietly. But she stopped at Madhav’s door - it was ajar, like before. Streetlight cast a dim glow through the curtain, and she saw him lying curled up without a blanket.
His shoulders shook every few seconds, breath uneven. Sleep hadn’t spared him from pain. The blanket lay near his feet.
Anjali stood there, watching him struggle with the unknown. A soft ache stirred inside her - a quiet urge to go to him, to hold him close and maybe stop his shivering. Maybe it would stop hers too. She’d been cold in her own room only moments before.
It wasn’t desire - such emotions were dead already. It was a need for comfort, closeness. Warmth only lonely people could offer.
She stepped in gently, picked up the blanket and covered him, tucking it around his shoulders. Madhav stirred briefly, then stillness returned. Anjali stood there, watching him with a sense of fondness. She felt calm and content with an unknown feeling she couldn’t name.
And then she left the room.

[krish_999]

Great start indeed. Hope this is not incest story?

Is this incest or what?
Please no.

You can't call it incest because incest is between people of blood relation. But I have to warn you, it has some strong elements of taboo. 

Thanking you all for the comments and encouragement.

[krish_999]

Chapter 2

When Madhav woke up the next morning, he was surprised to find the blanket around him. He couldn't remember covering himself with it the previous night. But as he sat up, he first caught the scent of aromatic tea and then the sight of a teapot next to his bed. Now he remembered. It must be Anjali.
He poured tea into the cup and had a small sip from the steamy cup. A tiny smile formed on his lips, and he recollected that he hadn't felt like smiling like that in the morning for a while.
Anjali was in the kitchen, drying her hands. When their eyes met, there was a moment of quiet.
"Shalini didn't come today?" Madhav asked.
"I asked her to come late," Anjali said, forcing a smile along. "I felt like I should start my mornings myself."
"So, are you making something for breakfast?"
"I'm maknig idlis. I know you ate very little for dinner."
Madhav nodded. "You too."
Anjali didn't reply. She quietly came forward to collect the tea cup from his hand and went back to the sink. Madhav stood there for some time, watching her. Anjali was wearing a faded green kurti, the fadeness being a deliberate part of its design. The hair was tied up neately with a small towel to dry the wet hair. She had taken a shower already. Madhav couldn’t guess whether the fresh fragrance lingering in the air came from her shower gel or from herself.
They had breakfast together. Even though they didn't talk much, their silence didn't feel heavy anymore.
That afternoon, Madhav napped on the sofa while Anjali sat with a magazine by the window. She could not read much. She kept skipping the large articles and read only small columns. When she finished, she kept the magazine and looked at Madhav. She noticed how peaceful he looked in his sleep. It was far from the image she had in her mind, most of which was made by Vinayak in the past. Vinayak always told her heroic stories of his dad, one of the most impressive ones was about helping one of his office staff.
A married woman staff in his office was brutally beaten by her husband over dowry. By the time Madhav learned of the assault, the man had already fled the country. Madhav tracked him down in Sudan and sent his men there - not to bring him back, but to beat him up and leave him behind with a broken hand. The man was made to cry, beg for mercy and seek forgiveness from his wife over a video call.
Anjali wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t heard it from Vinayak himself. The fear and respect Vinayak carried for his father - despite Madhav never openly opposing his choices - were enough to tell her that there was far more to him than what he chose to display.
There were many stories. All of them made an easy impression of how he valued his business and the people who worked for him.
Anjali wondered how he had left all his work suddenly after Vinayak's death as if they never existed. Madhav visited his office, but never stuck to the time. He stayed there for a few hours a day. Some days, he even chose not to go. As if they didn't matter anymore. Anjali felt she still knew nothing of him. Perhaps he had cried a lot too much, for nothing is coming out of him now. Perhaps he hadn't cried enough, probably hiding a volcano behind his calm, lost demeanour.
And she felt she was right when she chose to stay with him. There has to be someone.
At night, before going to bed, she went to check Madhav. The window was open, and the curtains fluttered in the wind. Again, the blanket was at his feet. As Anjali approached him, she paused with fondness and felt a want to climb in, to wrap her arms around him. Not because she wanted to hug him, but just a desire to provide comfort and relief from the cold.
But she didn't. She slowly covered him with the blanket.
As more days passed, the house fell into a rhythm of routine and both of them began to feel better without anything happening. One day, Madhav decided to go to his office in the morning itself. Anjali was happy to see him getting ready at the regular time.
Madhav noticed her. "Do you want to come to my office?" He asked.
Anjali didn't know how to respond. "You should come, Anjali."
And she agreed.
It was the first time she was stepping into his business world. It was a company owned by him, exporting various products to foreign countries. His name was a brand with M as its stylish logo.
Madhav introduced her to his managers and led her through various sections of the company. She returned home at lunchtime. That evening, when Madhav came home, he asked her if she wanted to work.
"I won't fit in, Dad," she hesitated.
"From what I saw today, I have a different opinion." Madhav encouraged her.
The next day, she returned to his office. At first, she just watched everything, then she started organising files and making calls. On the third day, he involved her in a meeting and allowed her to share her ideas. It helped that she was an MBA graduate.
Madhav noticed her ability to stay calm all the time. On a particular occasion, he found her explaining a better way to overcome an obstacle to a supervisor with surprising confidence. When she finished and the man left the office, Madhav smiled at her.
"You're doing well," he told her. "Better than I thought possible."
Anjali smiled, "Just trying to do what Vinayak would have done.”
"He had told me you were a bright student, long ago" Madhav came forward to embrace her. "And he was right. I can't tell you what I'm feeling like. You give me energy to breathe again."
Anjalli was surprised by his warm gesture. She hugged him back, tight. "Thank you, Dad."
At home, she had found Sharadha's old recipe book, that had food stains on most of the pages. She looked up Madhav's favourite dish - the one she had heard about from Vinayak. The page obviously contained most food stains. Anjali cooked it that night.
When Madhav tasted the first bite, he stopped. "This... this was her recipe."
Anjali smiled and told him the truth. Madhav's eyes stayed on her. "Thank you," he said.
Days passed, filled with small gestures and small conversations - and they found their attachment growing.
Her parents Manohar and Kavya kept inviting her to his home regularly, and Anjali kept refusing. Her mother was a silent type who always stayed in Manohar's shadow. But she seemed less interested in bringing Anjali back to stay with them. There were two reasons. One, she had another daughter to care about. She thought the presence of a widowed sister in the house would hamper the prospects of a good relationship in the future. Two, Anjali's wedding to Vinayak was against the wishes of her parents. Vinayak was a junior in Anjali's college, and they could never accept their MBA graduate daughter getting married to a 'student'. It was another thing that by the time they gave the nod to their wedding, Vinayak had not only finished his MBA but also established his own business in Dubai - a subsediary venture of his dad's company. Anjali's mother was still of the opinion that full acceptance of Anjali would pass a wrong message to her sister and to their family. However, Anjali was happy with her mother's silence.
As days passed, Madhav started to stay back until the closing hours of the company, like in earlier times. Anjali returned home earlier. By the time Madhav would reach home, she would have freshened up and even added a side dish to the dinner. The main course would have been prepared already by Shalini.
One evening, Anjali waited on the couch for Madhav, and she dozed off. When he came, he found her curled up, phone loose in her hand. He stood there watching her chest slowly rising and falling as she breathed. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead and, though gentle, woke her up.
"You could have slept in the room, dear," he said.
Anjali gave a tired smile, "I was just waiting for you, Dad."
He reached for her hand as she sat up, steadying her.
It had started raining outside. He asked for coffee, and she brought two cups. They sat together on the balcony couch, rain breathing against the air. The cold air brushed against her sleevless arm and she ran her palm over it to keep warm. Her silky, soft, and straight hair danced with the wind.
Madhav pulled her gently closer. "I can't thank you enough. I would've survived all of that, but you know, with you, I feel alive, dear."
Anjali leaned into him. "Me too, Dad."
As he held her closer, his hand rested on her stomach, reaching from around. She was sure it was by accident. And it felt like comfort, not awkwardness.
The hot coffee could not outlive the rain, which made the night colder. Anjali sat close to him, it just felt better.
However, as she kept watching the rain, she found herself secretly wishing to be held just a little tighter.
Their conversations often ended with talking about either Vinayak or Sharadha. It means they always ended abruptly, one feeling pain and the other sighing. However, after Anjali joined Madhav's office, they seemed to find more topics to talk on. For a change, some conversations even ended up in laughter. And the fact that their office conversations were a continuation of what they paused at home, they started to feel private, shared only between the two of them. What once felt like a quiet company was turning into something deeper.
One evening, Anjali found Madhav lying on the couch silently but not sleeping. It felt like he was listening to something. Amused, Anjali turned to him.
"Sleeping or awake?"
Madhav smiled at her. "I'm actually listening to your footsteps. It is sort of music."
Anjali laughed aloud. Louder than she remembered for long.
"That's unintentional flirting." She mumbled as if to herself.
A few minutes later, Anjali brought tea to him. She came in quietly and set the cup down on the table. Madhav was still half asleep, and he noticed more than he usually let himself see - a full glimpse of her cleavage through the gap formed at her neckline as she bent down, the gentle curve of her body under the thin material of her dress, the soft swing of her hips as she moved. He was half asleep as to immediately startle himself, but he knew he had seen all of it at once, and as the visuals sunk deep into his head, he looked away deliberately, hoping she hadn't noticed. He ended up sitting up in his attempt to play it down, and Anjali, upon seeing him getting up handed the cup to him. Still, he couldn't ignore the feel of their fingers touching as he took the cup from her. Sudenly there was a sense of awkwardness in such simple touches. He knew he had seen what he shouldn't have.
The next day as they worked together in his office, as she snatched his mouse to show him a specific point on his desktop, he caught the same old fragrance from her, and became more assured that it was of her body, not from shower gel. Madhav found his pulse beat awkwardly again. He grabbed the mouse back, only to have Anjali hold his hand deliberately.
"Wait, Dad," she said enthusiastically. "Let me make you understand this fully."
But he could not concentrate on what she was teaching him. Instead a visual from previous evening came back to his head. He saw her breasts, though medium in size, hanging but well in the protection of the black bra inside her dress. No, it was not black. It was navy blue.
"Have you spoken to your dad?" He asked out of blue. "How long are you going to stop his request? You should go, dear."
"Shut up and concentrate, Dad!" Anjali warned, and patted softly under his chin before turning her attention back to the computer screen.
Madhav was glad to see how effortless Anjali was around him.
That night, after dinner at home, Madhav found her rearranging the books on the shelf in the living room. Her hair was loose over her shoulders. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," he said.
"Then why did you ask me to listen to my daddy's wish?"
"Because it was his right."
"No." Anjali shook her head sideways. "It is my right."
Madhav shook his head in agreement and stepped closer. "Yes, you are right," he said and forwarded his hands instinctively. Anjali was perhaps anticipating it; she quickly moved into his arms and let him embrace her. Madhav's arms went around her, tight, holding on like he suddenly realised how much he needed a hug. Anjali statyed in the embrace, until he started realising he had started getting the scent of her body. Suddenly aware, he let her go.
"I'm sorry, Anjali," he whispered, backing away. "I didn't mean to..."
Anjali caught his wrist, stopping him.
"You are not the only one feeling it, Dad." She said, quietly. Then she moved forward, and hugged him. She wrapped her arms properly around him, and pushed her body towards him to make him rest his hands at her waist. They leaned into each other, neither pulling back, neither speaking a word. They knew both needed each other.
Perhaps they were just letting the moment be what it was.
But the lines between comfort and something more had begun to blur, and both of them were uncertain yet unwilling to let go.

[krish_999]

This is my first ever message on Xossipy, and honestly my whole and sole purpose of making an account is Krish only.

I really want to appreciate your writing skills, man — you just simply nail it. The way you portray emotions… uhh goshhhh, so damn good.
You won’t believe it, but I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve reread your Knowing Your Wife, Knowing You as Well series. Just incredible. I want to say so much, but I’m literally out of words. I just adore you, Krish, and please make one promise — never ever stop writing.

Talking about this story, it’s quite different from what you usually write, and that’s what makes it so interesting. As you mentioned in one of the comments, it’s going to be a kinky taboo, so I’m already seated, unblinking, patiently (not really) waiting ??

Please don’t hold back — we’re ready. 

You made my day bro 

[krish_999]

Chapter- three

In the month of October, the city witnessed the unusual outpours on a regular basis, and the weather brought a cold charm to the evenings. Madhav chose to sit in the balcony at night after dinner, staying in the calmth of staring at the sky. One day Anjali made tea and joined him with two cups. The stillness of the night and the hotness of the tea gave them a sense of comfort that felt better than any blanket. The air was cold but they were always close, Madhav's arm around Anjali's shoulder, her head often leaning onto his shoulder.
At first it was just for comfort. Soon it felt like something neither dared to name. But they both rested assured by an unknown trust in each other. The fact that no one was there to judge their attachment probably helped.
Madhav had age and maturity on his side, which made him confident that, no matter what, he would never drift into unsteady emotions. Yet whenever Anjali wore loose, thin fabrics, he found himself confronted with fleeting sights that made his pulse quicken - if only for a few seconds.
Her slender body held a quiet perfection in its curves, and every movement carried a natural grace that made it difficult to look away. Had she chosen tight clothes, he would have braced himself for the temptation. But loose, delicate fabrics were different - they offered sudden, unintended glimpses of a hidden beauty, catching him unprepared.
And when she laughed, Madhav felt as though she was the last spark in a world that had nearly gone dark.
Perhaps they had grown too confident with each other. Their touches became natural. Hugs became frequent. Their touch became longer. Nobody said anything. But they both knew they were becoming more fond of each other's company.
One night, when Anjali sat next to him in the couch, she was wearing a sleeveless dress. His hand was already resting on her shoulder, when she shivered he let it slide down her arm. She leaned in, accepting the comfort.
"You should've worn a shawl." He said.
Anjali smiled, "I don't feel the cold when you're around."
"Oh," he smiled at her, and his arm tightened around her.
And then, one morning, she was gone. Her mother had fallen ill and was forced to stay with your parents for a while. Madhav had his meals alone, adding the memories of Anjali to the recurring list of those of Vinayak and Sharada. In the presence of Anjali he had grown slightly comfortable with the memories of his wife and son, and now, in her absence they came back with a vengeance to haunt him.
He couldn't find sleep in the night, as his body couldn't distinguish between day and night. And his days became as darker as the nights should have been. One night, tired, he went to Anjali's room and sat on her bed. He could sense a psychic warmth from the room, feel the scent she left behind, and hear the echoes of her footsteps.
He didn't leave the room that night. And he slept in Anjali's bed, peacefully.
Anjali returned two weeks later. It was a moment Madhav had been waiting, and he wanted to pull her into a tight hug and tell her how much he missed her presence in the house. However, Anjali was accompanied by her father and Madhav controlled his emotions.
"Welcome back, dear." Madhav said quietly. His eyes were damp.
"Are you alright?" Anjali asked.
"No," he admitted softly. “But I am now.”
She smiled, yet kept her distance; her father’s presence demanded it. Still, her eyes lingered on Madhav with an unguarded warmth, as if the happiness in his eyes reflected her own, pleasing her quietly.
Manohar stayed with them overnight. Anjali asked Shalini to prepare the guest room for him, and they all had dinner early. Manohar told Madhav about a marriage prospect that he had found for his younger daughter Roopali. Madhav said it was good, but inside her became nervous due to the thought that Roopali's marriage means Manohar would push more for Anjali's return to his home.
However, Madhav said nothing about his worry. He knew he shouldn't.
That night, Madhav didn't sit out in the balcony. Manohar had gone to sleep, and Madhav too retired to his bedroom early.
Anjali prepared the tea, and brought two cups into Madhav's room. He was sitting on the bed, knees straight, staring at an old stain on the wardrobe door.
Anjali placed the cups down and sat next to him. Their eyes met, and spoke a lot through that look within seconds. They both knew that the tea was just an excuse.
Anjali was the first to make a move to open up. She leaned towards him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
"I missed you, dad," She whispered. "More than you know."
"I can imagine," Madhav breathed, “because I missed you too, dear.”
Anjali smiled, as if relieved to hear that. His words sounded like a medicine to her.
"You know, I've been crying a lot these days. Because I felt like I have lost Vinayak again. Yes I have, but with you it felt like there is part of him still staying with me. You are what making me believe I haven't lost him. I don't want to leave you, dad. I don't want to go home, because I don't want to move on from Vinayak. Please." Her eyes had become wet and by the time she said please, tears had fallen off.
Madhav cupped his palms around her face and wiped her tears with his thumps.
"I will never ask you to go, dear." He whispered.
Anjali leaned forward again kissed his forehead gently and instinctively, as if seeking forgiveness for what she was about to do. Then his eyes, closing hers as she did so, letting her grief settle there.

She should have moved back, but instead she pushed herself to stay in the warmth of his embrace, as if she was desperate for it.
Her breath caught between sobs. Her nose brushed against his, and for a moment, she stayed there, their foreheads resting against each other.

"You’re him now,’ she whispered. "You’re my Vinayak…"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she brought her lips to his. Soft. Searching. Uncertain.

Madhav was startled. His hands stayed at his sides. His eyes fluttered open in disbelief. But he didn’t push her away.

She pulled back slightly, breathless, heart pounding.

"I don’t want to lose what I have left dear," he nodded. "I don’t think I can…"

She kissed him again, this time with trembling lips and more longing. But when he didn’t respond, her fingers clutched his shirt and her voice broke.

"Please, Madhav… I’ve missed you so much. You don’t know what it felt like to be away from you."

He closed his eyes.

And then, slowly, he gave in.

His lips parted, not gently this time, but with aching hunger. With every pretense of restraint crumbling away, he kissed her deeply and desperately, his lips locking hers with the weight of everything they had been holding back.

She didn’t need to cry anymore.

She was home.

The kiss deepened, not just in intensity, but in meaning. It carried many months of silence and grief, and the unbearable loneliness of two people who had endured the same lose. What started as a trembling expression of emotion soon became something neither of them could control.

Something unspoken awakened within them. It wasn’t lust, it was something older, something hidden. Dormant feelings were being awakened, impossible to resist. They had no idea how to tackle this moment. No plan. Only surrender.

Their mouths breathed into each other, their hands slowly searching, discovering, invading. Neither of them knew how to stop; they only knew to let it flow.

And then, gently, Anjali pulled back. Her heart was beating hard. Her eyes, misted with tears and flickers of desire, locked onto Madhav’s.

She didn’t say much. Only a whisper.
"Make me live again… Dad."

Madhav blinked. Time stopped. But he didn’t have the strength to question the weight of that plea. She wasn't asking for approval. She was begging for release. To express the love she deserved.

Anjali slowly lifted her kurti and pulled it over her head. The dim light traced the lines of her bare skin, and she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her knees pressing into the bed. Then she kissed him again - deeper, slower -guiding him back into that space where pain became intimacy.

Madhav was no longer thinking. The boundaries between right and wrong blurred, until they disappeared altogether. He kissed her hungrily, as if every moment without her had been a drought. His hands found the curves of her back, her waist, the softness of her bare skin. He didn’t pause to admire her body - it wasn’t a moment of aesthetic worship - it was a need. A primal need to feel, to belong, to express a bond only he could fulfill.

She lifted her hips slightly as his palms slid past the waistband of her palazzo. She moved her torso forward, allowing him more comfort to slide his hand to feel the roundness of her ass. Her breath hitched, her body trembling under his touch as he moved in and ran his finger tips along the crack of her ass. And he slowly squeezed her ass cheeks. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t stop him. Her hands moved to his waist, trying to lower his trousers - but he couldn’t lift his body beneath her. Still, it was enough. She managed to slide down the front of his pajama. Her fingers reached in and found his length, hot and hard and alive. Her hand trembled as she slowly wrapped her fingers around it, pulling it out of his clothes. She didn't look down. She didn’t need to. And she wasn't paying much attention. She was only moving instinctively, as if she was being guided. Her breath grew heavier, lips parting in a quiver, and she kissed him again - deeply, desperately. By now she had completely forgotten that she was about to mate with her father-in-law. As she pushed her lower lips into his mouth, she felt wanting him to suck it with more intent, and she ended up sucking his upper lips instead. Perhaps he was old-college and thus hesitating a bit. But the kiss grew intense with each share of breath. And their soul and passion grew closer.

Then, slowly, she lifted her hips once more. A silent offering. A silent permission.

Madhav’s hands moved to her waist and slid her lower garments - palazzo and panty- just enough, only a few inches, but enough. She guided herself back down onto his lap, her breath catching as their bodies aligned. And just like a moment of continuation, Anjali instinctively guided his throbbing manhood into her pussy as she lowered herself onto it. She allowed her body to sink deep into him, letting herself be filled by his length. She moaned into his mouth and almost cried with relief. It felt like she deserved it. A wave of hot shivering passed through her stomach. She knew what she was doing wasn't right but she couldn't help her stop it. She knew she was going to regret it, yet she could not turn away. She felt it was the moment of two broken souls finding something to hold onto. It didn’t feel like an act of desire. Instead it just felt like a bond was complete.

And in that moment, as their bodies moved into become one, it felt like someone, somewhere, had written this moment long ago. It felt like fate.
And she knew he too deserved it equally, which made the whole thing worth experiencing. That feeling itself brought joy into her, and she started moving her hip up and down.
"Oh my... Oh my dad... Mmm... Love me, please..." she kept blurting through her broken breath. Her breasts kept shaking within the confinement of her light pink bra.
Madhav's hands moved from her ass cheeks and held firmly at the sides of her hips, helping her move effortlessly. No words were spoken apart from the occasional encouragement from Anjali, but the vigour and togetherness never faded. They didn't even care to move their clothes more than necessary. They had moved enough to get to the point. The kiss too had ended; they were now just staring into each other's eyes while they continued to fuck nonstop.

After a couple of minutes, Anjali watched his eyes shine with an expression. An anticipation. Anjali started moving faster. She could feel Madhav's length throbbing inside her.
"Oh God, Anjali..." he breathed.
"Do it, Madhav. Don't stop it," Anjali said.
She knew he was about to come, and she moved as fast as she could until he let out a small groan, and she watched Madhav immerse himself in the pleasure of release. She stopped moving and held her body down to let him come inside her and fill her. Then, as he completed, she gifted her lips to him to devour. By the time he took a break from the intense kiss that followed, every drop of his had been exchanged from him to Anjali’s body.
Anjali spent a few seconds to settle her breathing, before slowly moving off him. His half limb length slid out of her and its top was still smeared with his white cum. Anjali sat beside his leg and she could feel wetness leaking out of her. She looked around for a cloth and only found her kurti. She grabbed it and pressed it between her thighs. She couldn't look straight at Madhav. She felt shy, ashamed a little, before moving on to an underwhelming feeling which she couldn't make out whether relief or guilt. She only knew she had done the irreversible.
Madhav sat back tired, eyes becoming moist as reality seeped in. He pulled his pants back and stared at the ceiling, unable to make out what to say. He looked around his room and it felt like another world all of a sudden.
Anjali saw his eyes become wet. She placed her hand on his chest.
"Don't hate yourself, dad," she said. "We needed each other, that's all."
Madhav looked at her, and nodded slowly. "You’re stronger than I am, Anjali. Tell me what to do.”
She touched his cheek and nodded. "Let me go," she whispered and got up, pulling the pants back. She didn't want to wear the top anymore, for it had become spoiled with her fluids mixed with his cum. She clutched the crumbled cloth against her chest to hide her bra clad breasts from him.
Her head felt like spinning at she stood straight. "Dad," she didn't say anything further as she walked back with a quiet urgency to get back to her room.
She pulled open the half-closed door and almost ran to her room, holding the clothes pressed to her chest. Inside the room, she tossed the kurta onto the bed and rushed into the bathroom. She took off the remaining clothes before turning on the shower faucet to spray water on her body. However, water only helped her realise the coldness of the reality and a moment later, her breath started to cover in bursts. She cried. She couldn't understand why she was crying but she didn't want to stop it. Eventually, she turned on the shower and stood straight under it, with the hope of letting it all get washed away.

In the hall outside, Manohar stood frozen in the dark, a steel water bottle forgotten in his hand. He had come out to drink some water.
But instead, he had seen his daughter hurriedly moving out from her father-in-law's room - frantic, topless, and clutching her rumpled kurti top against her chest.
He didn’t need to guess what had happened.

And as he stood there, alone in the silence, the darkness swallowed not just his figure… but his peace.

[krish_999]

yet another master piece episode...too good

absolute writing. effifany

but the way it happened and the way it was seen by manohar is totally a different take. lets see how it unfolds the next morning. and its going to be a long night, indeed.

That's an intense update with a Krish's mark curious ending   Eagerly waiting for the next one

wow excellent

This is an absolutely masterful piece of storytelling, and your narrative control is what truly sets it apart. You didn't just write a taboo scene; you crafted a profound and heartbreaking study of grief, loneliness, and the desperate human need for connection. The foundation you built with the shared tragedy was essential; it wasn't just two people left alone, but two people who had lost their entire futures, their identities as husband, wife, son, and daughter-in-law, all erased in a single, brutal moment. That shared void became the new foundation of their relationship, and you explored its terrifying and inevitable consequences with breathtaking skill.

The narrative choice to separate them, to have her visit her father, was a stroke of genius. It served as a crucial test, a pressure cooker for their burgeoning dependency. In her absence, you didn't just tell us he missed her; you showed us in the most poignant and vulnerable way possible. The scene of him seeking solace in her room, sleeping on her bed, and inhaling her lingering scent was a moment of pure, narrative gold. It was a silent scream of his loneliness, a deeply symbolic act that demonstrated how his need for her had transcended paternal care and morphed into something far more primal and essential. It was the moment the reader understands that the line has already been crossed in his heart, long before any physical touch occurs.

When she returns, the tension you've built is almost unbearable. Their reunion isn't joyful; it's a collision of two starving souls. You perfectly narrated that "craving" and "missing each other" not as simple longing, but as a deep, cellular need for the only other person who understands their specific pain. The phrase "one thing led to another" can so often be a lazy cliché, but here, you earned it. You made it feel like a dam breaking, a frantic, almost fumbling search for a warmth that could stave off the cold of their mutual grief. The "hot sex" was impactful not just for its physicality, but because it was the culmination of all the unspoken pain, vulnerability, and desperate need you had so carefully layered throughout the story. It was an act of both profound transgression and profound solace.

But the absolute masterstroke was the final scene. Just as the reader is processing the intensity of their union, you introduce the outside world in the most brutal way possible: her own father. The image of him seeing his daughter leaving her father-in-law's room is a gut-wrenching, perfect conclusion. It’s a silent, cinematic moment that conveys a universe of shock, betrayal, and the shattering of another family. In that single image, you force the reader to confront the real-world consequences of the emotional journey you just took them on. It was a bold, risky, and absolutely brilliant way to end the episode, proving that you are not just a writer of erotica, but a true author who understands character, pacing, and the devastating power of a perfectly executed narrative.

Thank you all for the overwhelming response. Your comments are truly encouraging, and inspire me to keep writing.

A special mention to sherlock096. You made me read your comment twice. Your word flow is commendable. The way you convey your thoughts is just as impactful as what you want to say. I feel proud to receive such a comment on this platform.
Thank you all, once again.

As promised, Chapter 4 will be out today.
Keep reading. Keep posting.
Love. Krish.

[krish_999]

Chapter - four

In the morning, Madhav slept longer than usual. But the moment he opened his eyes, he woke to his reality with a jolt.
“Anjali?” He looked around, as if he could still feel her presence in the room. She wasn’t there. Yet he could feel it.
Her presence. Her breath. Her smell. Her moans. Her movements. And the memories of how she had ridden him and brought him the forbidden pleasure. Madhav closed his eyes in shame.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, running a trembling hand down his face. “What have I done?”
He prayed that the previous night had been a stupid dream and quickly got out of bed. He searched for Anjali immediately. She hadn’t come out of her room. A lightning thought struck him, and he stumbled across the house to her door and knocked hesitantly.
For a moment, a thousand thoughts passed through his mind. None of them was any good. He had the maturity to understand the extent to which a lost woman could possibly go to atone for the grave mistake she had made. The seconds Anjali took to open the door almost made Madhav decide to break in.
Anjali looked at him with sleepy eyes.
“Dad?”
She looked at him with suspicion.
Madhav sighed.
“Are you okay?”
He knew she wasn’t. Her eyes told him she had been deprived of sleep the whole night.
Anjali looked over his shoulder to make sure her father was nowhere in sight, then shook her head sideways.
"Not really, Dad. I’m sorry.”
Tears began to flow from her eyes.
“Oh, dear,” Madhav said softly. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“No, Dad, it’s not your fault. I initiated it. It was my...”
“There’s no use calling me a grown-up if I can’t control my actions. I acted like a stupid...” Madhav shook his head in disgust. “Shit! What have I done!"
He looked away in anguish, unable to look her in the eyes.
"Dad." Anjali moved and grabbed his hand. "It was me who crossed the line. Your mistake was that you should have slapped me and pushed me out of your room. But you didn't. But please don't blame yourself for it. Perhaps I needed it at that moment. We both needed it."
Anjali spoke like she had thought a lot about it and had made up her mind about how to talk about it. She went on. “I came to your room, Dad. I kissed you. I touched you. I was longing for Vinayak... I wanted to feel close to him, and you were the only one who really understood. We both needed that moment. Let’s not pretend it was only you."
He looked away, ashamed. “Still… you call me dad!"
“I will,” she interrupted firmly. “Nothing’s changed. What happened between us stays between us.”
A part of Madhav wanted to believe her claim. Another part feared the weight of their actions. They stood there quietly, the awkwardness thick but thinning.
They heard the sound of the back door opening. It was Shalini, their maid, entering the kitchen from the back. That was how she used to come every morning.
Anjali patted Madhav's hand and went to the kitchen. Madhav stood there staring at her for a while and then went back to his room, his feet still heavy. He stopped in front of his son's photo and felt his heartbeats rising. He felt Vinayak was there, watching his dad mating with his wife, and watching it helplessly.
'Oh, son. How could I do it to you?' Madhav pressed his hand to his chest. 'Forgive me, son, I couldn't stop. Forgive me, please...' he begged silently. Unable to stand there, he rushed to the washroom.
After the shower, Madhav got ready early. He didn't want to face Manohar, who still hadn't come out of his room. Madhav knew he wouldn't be able to look at Manohar's eyes and speak properly when guilt was brewing inside him.
After Madhav left, Anjali managed her composure. Manohar had not come out of his bedroom. Anjali took a teacup to his room. Shalini was outside, washing the tiles on the porch.
“Are you still sleeping, Daddy?” Anjali was surprised to see Manohar still lying on the bed.
Manohar opened his eyes immediately, as if he had not been asleep. He sat up and looked at her like a stranger. There was a sense of disgust in his eyes. In one second, Anjali knew her dad’s eyes were searching for something on her.
"What happened, Dad?" She asked, calming herself despite a wave of suspicion shaking her mind.
“I should have known,” Manohar said with contempt. “I should have asked why you refused to leave this house.”
Anjali’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”
"The truth, Anjali. Your filthy, shameful truth. You and Madhav. Your father-in-law. An affair so horrible that it would disgust even the dirtiest mind."
She froze. “Daddy, what are you saying…?"
“Don’t pretend to be more stupid than you are, Anjali. I saw you last night - coming out of his bedroom, naked! What the hell were you doing there without clothes? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That it could stay hidden?”
His anger burned through his words.
Anjali was stunned. She felt the room spinning around her. A world was crumbling, and she knew what it was.
Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. “No… please… it’s not like that…”
He wasn’t listening. “How long? He died just a few months ago, Anjali. Are you so desperate? Is this your love for your dead husband? Or is his death a blessing for you - so you can sleep with his father?"
Anjali covered her mouth, sobbing. “No, daddy! Please... don't say that.”
Manohar shook his head, denying her words.
"Do you realise what you’re doing to our family? Do you remember your sister? No one will want to marry her if they learn that her widowed sister is sleeping with her father-in-law.”
“Please, stop,” Anjali begged. “It isn't what you understand. It's not like that..." Anjali struggled for words that made sense. "It happened once. It wasn’t sex. It was grief, helplessness, pain. We were broken… and made a mistake.”
“But you did it, Anjali!” he yelled. “Now drop it - and pack your things. You’re coming home.”
“No!” she said, voice fierce. “Give me time. I’ll come with you, Daddy, but not now.”
"What?" He stared at her with hatred. "Why do you want time? You want to say goodbye to that..." He stopped, as if hesitating to resort to abusive language.
"Please... daddy, I know it's wrong. It was a mistake." Anjali looked away momentarily as she spoke. "I'm in shock myself. He's also...same. Never expected this to happen... And he's broken. If I leave now, he will die. And I will also... Please understand. Please."
Manohar stared at her for a long moment, as if unable to understand her.
“You have a few days. After that, I’m taking you, like it or not.” Manohar declared in the end.
Anjali nodded.
“One more thing,” Manohar said. “You’ll stop working in his office.”
Anjali froze again. “What?”
“I said you’ll stop working in Madhav’s office.”
“No, Daddy… please…” Anjali almost grabbed the edge of her clothes, as if she were a child being scolded by her father. “That’s not fair.”
“But it’s necessary,” Manohar replied. “As long as you’re working with him, you’re vulnerable, and I can't allow it.”
“I’ve already agreed to come with you...and leave this house,” Anjali said. “Give me some time. Please.”
“Time is exactly what you don’t deserve.” Manohar’s voice hardened. “I won’t allow you to keep seeing him under the excuse of work.”
Anjali shook her head in defiance. “You’re taking away everything.”
“I’m protecting you,” he said flatly. “Decide quickly.”
"Daddy, please...understand that what happened there was an accident. And much as I'm...he’s also reeling with shame and guilt. If I leave him now, it’s going to break him forever, and I’ll lose him. I’ll be the only one answerable for that - please remember that. You won’t see me alive if that happens,” Anjali said.
Manohar stared at her again for a long moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
“Don’t take my empathy for foolishness,” he finally said. “I’m giving you this so-called time only because I don’t want to bring this drama back to my home.”
Anjali could only nod.

Manohar left without looking back. Anjali collapsed onto the bed, shaking with tears. Hours passed before Madhav’s name lit up her phone.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Wiping tears, she steadied herself. “I’m okay.”
That night, Madhav came home late. The change was visible between them - no smile, no tea time on the balcony. She said nothing about her secret being found by her father; she couldn’t bear to add his burden. For the whole night, they chose silence as if it were their medicine.
The next morning, she found Madhav sitting on the couch staring at Vinayak’s photo on the wall, eyes heavy with guilt.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
“That my son would never forgive me.”
Anjali placed her hand on his shoulder. “If I marry someone else… would you stop me?”
Startled, Madhav looked up. “Never. I want you to be happy.”
“Then don’t torture yourself. What we did wasn’t lust. It was longing for comfort, for healing. Vinayak would have wanted us to take care of each other. You are his father. And I… I still care for you.”
"It's a stupid way to console ourselves, Anjali," Madhav said quietly.
"But you have to believe me now."
She said and stepped closer to embrace him. Madhav felt a breeze fill his heart. He pressed his face into her belly. Anjali held him close and caressed his hair. For a moment, Anjali felt as though she was the elder and he was just a child. She then wondered where she was gathering so much courage from.
The day felt lighter. Madhav felt she was right. He had no choice but to try to believe Anjali’s point of view, no matter how foolish it seemed.
When called from the office the next day, Anjali said she wanted to join him. He said okay. An hour later, Anjali arrived, wearing a kurti and palazzo. Though it was another style and colour, memories of her pulling her kurti off her head the other night flashed in front of his eyes. Madhav couldn't face her at first. But once they got busy with work, he felt better.
They worked side by side, and it felt like healing.
But peace was fragile. Anjali's father suffered a heart attack the next day. Anjali rushed to meet him. She knew she was the reason behind his pain. She wondered if she should tell Madhav that their secret had been found by Manohar. But she couldn't tell him. When Madhav said he would accompany her, she stopped him.
Manohar had survived the heart attack but was admitted to the ICU. Anjali’s sister, Roopali, hugged her and cried, standing outside the ICU. Anjali cried too; half of her pain came from guilt.
When her mother saw Anjali, she was angry. “When will you stop giving your daddy trouble and tension, Anjali?” she asked, her eyes swollen with worry.
Anjali’s heart nearly stopped. Did Daddy tell her?
She couldn’t speak.
Kavya continued, “He kept telling you to come home, and you never listened. He’s been so worried about you. He was crying the whole night silently. This tension… it is what broke him. You are the reason for this.”
But as her mother went on, Anjali realised that she was still unaware of the truth. A quiet sense of relief soothed her, even as guilt continued to weigh heavily on her heart.
The doctor revealed that Manohar’s life had been saved only because of his friend’s timely response in giving CPR to him during the heart attack. He was with Manohar when he collapsed in pain and lost consciousness. CPR was given immediately, bringing him back, and he was rushed to the hospital soon after.
The doctor told Anjali’s mother that she should be more grateful to the man who had the presence of mind to perform CPR at the moment of the heart attack than to the doctor standing in front of her.
Anjali’s mother later told her that it was Vicky who had saved Manohar’s life.
Vicky was known to Anjali. He wasn’t exactly Manohar’s friend, but the son of his friend Shyamal Das. He was present at the hospital when Anjali’s mother and sister arrived. But Anjali hadn't noticed him. Perhaps Anjali was too lost in her own world of guilt to notice him then. Later, she looked for him but couldn’t find him.

When Anjali finally got a chance to meet Manohar, she cried silently, seeking forgiveness. She couldn’t speak because her mother was standing beside her.
After a while, Madhav arrived at the hospital, and Anjali feared her father’s condition might worsen. But nothing happened. Manohar calmly asked Madhav to let Anjali stay with him for the time being. It was the first thing he had said since the heart attack.
Madhav agreed, and Anjali stayed.
Manohar was discharged from the hospital the following day. Anjali went along with him to her house.
Manohar did not talk to her. In fact, he did not talk to anyone. And three days later, she called Anjali aside and dropped a bomb.
“I’ve found a solution for your loneliness,” he said, holding her hand. “Shyamal Das’s only son.”
Her fingers grew cold.
“Who?” She blurted in confusion.
“Vicky. Vikram. Our family knows him, and he saved my life. He told me he knows you from college days. He runs his own business, a good match.”
She recalled him - Shyamal Das uncle’s son, a quiet boy who had once proposed to her in college. She had gently refused him then; she was already seeing Vinayak.
Anjali hadn’t seen him at the hospital, though she had wanted to meet him and thank him for saving her father’s life. But now, suddenly, she felt she would never want to see him.

"No, Daddy. I don’t want this,” she said bitterly.
“I didn’t ask. You will meet him. This Sunday.” Manohar’s voice hardened.
“But I’m not ready.”
“You will be. And you’ll see him as your future husband. That’s final,” Manohar said sternly.
Anjali sat frozen. A new chapter was beginning - one she wasn’t sure she was ready for. And she had no idea how to stop it.

[krish_999]

[quote pid='6143993' dateline='1771123654']
Your words are exceedingly gracious, and I receive them with sincere humility. If my comment merited a second reading, it is solely because your writing deserved the first — and perhaps several thereafter. True eloquence is often a reflection of the work that inspires it, and your narrative, with its emotional subtlety and restrained intensity, makes thoughtful response almost inevitable.

To be acknowledged so generously by a writer of your calibre is both flattering and deeply appreciated. I do hope you will continue this journey with unwavering dedication.

And if I may venture one modest request do consider gracing us with updates every three or four days. A week’s interval feels rather interminable when one is so thoroughly invested in the unfolding drama.

With sincere regards.
Sherlock.

[/quote]

Thanks a lot again for the comment. And also to all other readers who have read my story. Your gestures matters a lot to me.

About your request about quicker updates. I'm sorry to tell you that I can't promise you that because I want to be realistic with my promises. I funny want to promise something and deliver something else. Please understand. But I will surely try to ensure that the new chapters come weekly once at least, I mean not more than 7 days gap. 

Thanks again. New update comes today. 
Keep reading. Keep posting. 
Love. Krish.

[krish_999]

Chapter - five

A few days after Manohar was discharged from the hospital, Madhav visited him at home. All the family members were present, including Anjali. Everyone was happy to see him, but he was happier to see Anjali breathe easy around him.
However, there was something odd in the way Manohar interacted with him. He knew something was definitely wrong when Manohar, once no one was around them, told him he was waiting to meet him privately.

Manohar waited until coffee time and the pleasantries were over, then bolted the room from inside.
“Madhav… I’ve found someone for Anjali,” he said while turning to him, without wasting a second.
Madhav blinked, disoriented. “Someone?”
“Someone I know very well. From a good family. My friend Shyamal’s son, Vikram.”
There was a long pause before Madhav finally spoke.
“Did you talk to Anjali?”
“She’s hesitant,” Manohar admitted, his voice tight. “But she will listen. Eventually. It’s for her own good.”

Madhav wanted to argue. He wanted to say that Anjali wasn’t ready, that her eyes still lingered often on Vinayak’s photograph, that grief still weighed heavily on her every move. And that Anjali needed more time to move on. But before he could speak, Manohar’s thin smile cut through the silence.

“Or maybe you’re just not ready to let her go.”

The words pierced deeper than Madhav expected. He looked away, swallowing hard.

“I’ve seen it, Madhav,” Manohar continued softly. His words startled Madhav like hell. Manohar went on, “You’ve grown close to her more than ever, since she returned to you. I don’t blame you. She’s lovely, caring, and maybe you both needed comfort to grieve your losses. But this - it isn’t helping her. It’s holding her back.”

Madhav was tense but said nothing. He couldn't understand what Manohar meant exactly when he said, 'I've seen it'. The words that followed had brought ambiguity. He felt a sense of helpless fear taking over his mind. He couldn't ask what Manohar meant with his words, for he feared the worst to be true, even though he believed it wasn't possible for Manohar to 'see' what had happened.

“She needs to move forward. And so do you.” Manohar added.

Madhav wanted to argue, but the guilt from that forbidden night made him sit still, unable to express any opinion. And he was forced to think the way Manohar wanted him to.
Yes, she needs to move forward. And so do I.
Slowly, he nodded.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said finally.

Madhav stayed at Manohar’s house overnight. After dinner, he gently brought up the idea to Anjali while they were sitting on the balcony upstairs.
Anjali sat still for several minutes, struggling for words. Then her voice came out as barely a whisper. “Do you think I can just forget everything? Become someone else’s wife?”
“You don’t have to forget,” Madhav said softly, though his voice lacked conviction. “Just heal.”
She shook her head. “I’m trying. But I don’t want to be touched by another man.”
He stared at her, and she held his gaze for a moment. “Oh, Dad… I mean… I see him in you. That’s what… I… I hope you understand me."
“I do, dear. I understand.” He paused before continuing. “I’m not counting myself. That’s why I said you need to try… just once. Just open a door, and let’s see what’s ahead.”
Anjali said nothing. She no longer had the strength to fight. She knew that even if she could convince Madhav, her father would never agree.
Before Madhav left in the morning, he gave his word to Manohar that he would convince Anjali to say yes to the proposal. The next day, Manohar allowed Anjali to return to Madhav’s house.

The following evening, Vikram called. He asked if she would meet him, and out of a mix of pressure and uncertainty, she agreed.

They met at a quiet café, which Vikram suggested. Anjali was meeting him after a long break; she hadn’t seen him in years, and he seemed like a different man now.
In her memory, Anjali remembered the lean, soft-spoken guy who had proposed to her during their college days.


"Anjali, do you have a minute? I want to talk to you.”
She was on her way to meet her friends, who were waiting for her behind the stage at the start of a cultural event. She was in a hurry but chose to be polite.
“I’m in a rush, Vikram. You need to talk fast,” she said, continuing to walk.
“I’ve just… Anjali, I’ve thought of a lot of ways to say this, but I guess there’s no time for any of that. I’ll hurry… I… I love you. Anjali, I love you. I can’t be any quicker than this.”
He blurted it all out in one go. Anjali stopped, amused, finding it slightly funny.
“Oh. That’s sweet. But I’m sorry—you weren’t quick enough. I mean… I’m seeing someone else already. Bye.”
Even though she said that, she and Vinayak weren’t actually in a relationship then. They were just good friends—friends with a special connection.

Later that day, when she told Vinayak that someone had proposed to her, he jumped out of his seat and turned to her.
“What? What did you say?”
From his voice, Anjali sensed what he was feeling.
“What should I have said?” she asked.
“No.” Vinayak grabbed her hands. “I am not going to let you go, ever. You’re my sweetheart. Forever.”
“Is that how you propose to me?” Anjali laughed.
Vinayak moved closer and put his arm around her, looking deep into her eyes. “Look at me and say you don’t love me.”
“I don’t…” She paused.
“You don’t? Go ahead,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment.
“I don’t want to tell you that.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
She hugged him tightly and then kissed him.

That night, she ended up at his place, and they made love – promising each other a lifetime of love.
The next day, when Anjali saw Vikram staring at her from a distance, she remembered the night with Vinayak, and a faint smile appeared on her face. It amused her that Vikram, with his proposal, had unintentionally played a part in pushing her straight into someone else’s arms.

Everything flashed through Anjali’s memory in a second. It was all still fresh there – except for the never-fading truth that Vinayak was no more.

"Hello, Anjali." Vikram greeted her, walking over to her. Anjali watched him walk confidently and with a charming smile. He looked like a completely changed man. The cream kurta shirt revealed the shape of his muscular body, and the perfume and the metallic watch he wore carried a sense of affluence to his character. The lean figure Anjali remembered from her college days no longer existed. Vikram looked impressive in his charismatic avatar. Except that Anjali was certain not to be impressed by anything.

Vikram extended his hand to her, and Anjali returned the handshake.
“You look fabulous. Thanks for coming, Anjali. How’s your daddy now?”
“He’s okay. Thank you for saving his life.”
“It was my fate to be there at that time. Sometimes we’re late. Sometimes early. But when we’re at the right time and in the right place, we can pull off miracles, can’t we?”
Anjali smiled genuinely. “I guess so.”
“Come, let’s find a place to sit.” Vikram led her into the café, and they found a table. He softly pulled out a chair and allowed her to sit before taking the seat opposite her. They ordered coffee.

Vikram spoke smoothly about his family and business before he opened up about a longtime dream.

"Anjali, I respected your decision years ago, the moment you told me you had chosen Vinayak. That respect never faded with time. In fact, it grew when I later heard how you married him despite your family’s strong objections. It proved that you were serious about your relationship with him. And honestly, a person like that is everyone’s dream – the one who would stay, right?
When Vinayak died, I didn’t know about it. I was on a world tour – a personal choice. When I returned, I decided not to contact you because I didn’t want to seem opportunistic. I deliberately held back from meeting you. I knew there was nothing I could say to make you feel better. I thought that was how it would remain.
But when your daddy told me how much you’ve been struggling with the past, I felt like I should step in. Not like a saviour. But like a…” Vikram paused and leaned slightly forward before continuing, “I can’t see you in pain, Anjali. The love and respect I had for you in the past are still intact, and that makes me hope that I can be your man for the rest of your life.”

Anjali was lost in his monologue. She couldn't blink. Vikram went on, "When your father approached mine, I felt like fate was finally giving me a chance. I don't want to lose this one."

Anjali lowered her gaze, her heart pounding with a sense of grief. She knew it was going to be harder than she thought to say no.

"I'm not ready, Vikram," she said softly. "I know he won't come back, but I'm still holding onto him."

Vikram stared at him for a second and then reached across the table to catch her hand. “Then let me help you heal, Anjali. I will wait. Say yes only when you are ready."

The softness of his words felt heavy. Anjali smiled politely, torn between a secret sense of guilt and a strange feeling of uncertainty.


After the coffee, he accompanied him to her car in the parking lot. As she sat in, before she could start the engine, Vikram leaned in. "I have something for you," he said with a smile.

Before she could respond, he placed his right palm under her left cheek to turn her face toward him and pressed his lips hard against hers.

Anjali froze. She couldn't move.

Pulling away with a confident smile, Vikram said, “Take care, Anjali.”


Trembling, Anjali drove away, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wiped her lips many times, as if to wipe off the startling memory.

He kissed me!

The kiss haunted her like a storm warning. Something was coming. He had promised that he would wait. But no, he was not going to wait. Anjali could already imagine the days ahead: his hands on her waist, his breath hot on her skin, his body over hers.

For a moment, she was convinced that Vikram had come only to reclaim what he had once set his eyes on.

The road back home felt longer than it was. The traffic appeared a blur as Anjali's eyes clouded with tears. She could not escape the weight of Vikram's unwelcome kiss on her lips even after reaching home. She didn't even know why she was crying.

Home felt colder than usual. She walked in and stood in the living room for a few minutes, unsure of what to do, her handbag still hanging from her shoulder.

Her mind kept drifting back to the cafe. She felt she shouldn't have met Vikram. She felt angry at her father. And she cried again. She sat on the sofa, hid her face in her palms and cried. It took her some time to gather herself, eventually.

She spent the rest of the evening in silence, each passing moment adding to her sense of solitude. She thought she would never be able to wipe off the stain of Vikram's kiss from her lips.

It was not a forced kiss. It wasn't a violent intrusion into her privacy. It was a quiet, confident step into her part of life, aimed at joining her. More than the kiss, she felt his confidence that she would accept his kiss was more hurtful.

She thought of saying no by making an offence of his act. But she knew what her father would say.

He saved my life, Anjali. I know him very well. He deserves a chance. You deserve a chance.

But a kiss?

Daddy would laugh it off. He would try to talk about it as a youthful affection. Vikram is still a man under thirty.

And Anjali knew it very well that complaining too much about the kiss would make her daddy question her moral ground. Because he knows what I have done with my father-in-law. It wasn't a kiss.

Anjali knew that she stood on altered moral ground after crossing the line. She wondered where it was all going to lead her. Perhaps she would marry Vikram. Eventually, she would let him touch her. Share her bed. She would end up giving herself to him. What she had once given to Vinayak would then belong to Vikram.
The thought made her stomach twist.
Anjali's mind was looping through her helplessness.


When Madhav returned from the office, he found her sitting on the sofa, eyes fixed somewhere between the wall and nowhere.

"Hey," he said, placing his bag down. "You alright?"

She nodded lightly, not meeting his gaze. "Yeah."

Dinner was quiet. She barely ate, and when it was over, she excused herself and went to her room without a word. Madhav knew something was wrong. After a while, he went and knocked on her door.
“Anjali?”

The door wasn’t bolted from the inside. Madhav opened it and saw Anjali sitting on the edge of the bed. She didn’t look like she was in a hurry to sleep.
“What’s going on?” Madhav asked gently. "You’ve been distant all evening.”
Anjali looked at him for a long second, as if deciding whether to tell him, before speaking. “Today I met Vikram, Dad.”
“Yeah, I wanted to ask you about it, but couldn’t find an opportunity,” Madhav said. “How did it go?”
“He wants to marry me,” Anjali said, looking away.
Madhav smiled slowly. “Well, it’s natural for him to feel that way. What do you think of him?”
Anjali turned sharply. “And he kissed me.”
Madhav's eyes narrowed. "What?" For a moment, he was clueless about how to react. "How? I mean, did he force himself?"
"No, Dad. It wasn't like that. But it was sudden, when I was leaving in my car, he just leaned in and kissed me. It was unexpected."
Madhav tried to remain calm. "He really likes you then, I suppose."
"I don't want him to like me," Anjali shook her head. "I don't want anyone to like me."
"Anjali..." Madhav began to talk, but Anjali cut in. "I don't want anyone to replace Vinayak. I love him. Only him, Dad. It's always him."

Tears started to slip down her cheeks. Madhav moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, beside her. As soon as he sat, Anjali grabbed onto his shirt and leaned into him, sobbing against his body.
"My daddy will never understand. He didn't understand me when I fell in love with Vinayak. He didn't understand me when I wanted to marry Vinayak. And he doesn't understand me now. He will push me into this because it looks perfect in his eyes. Just because it makes sense to him, not because I wanted."
Madhav held her close, his hand moving slowly over her back. “Anjali… Vinayak is gone. You need to accept that.”
“No!” she cried, lifting her head. “Don’t ever say that to me. He’s not gone. He’s here. In this house. In you.”
Her eyes were blazing now. “Do you know why I slept with you that night?” she whispered. “Because I saw him in you. I see him in you. That’s my only justification.”
Madhav remained silent.
She hugged him tightly, her breath growing heavier. “Please… don’t let me go. Dad… please.”
Her right hand clutched him firmly. Then she wrapped her left arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Madhav froze as he felt the warmth of her lips press against his cheekbone. She was doing it deliberately.
Anjali looked up at him, her eyes filled with desperation. It wasn’t lust. It was longing.
Anjali's hand was getting tighter around. And she was about to kiss him on the lips. Madhav stiffened. He held her shoulders and gently began to pull away.
"Please… don’t do this, Anjali," he murmured, his voice barely holding together. "We can't go there again."
Anjali took a deep breath. "Just tell me you won't leave me. I don't want to be alone, Dad."

Madhav's breath was shaky as he spoke, "I am proud to be your father-in-law, dear. I am so proud that you are still in love with my son, even so long after his death. But we have to be cautious. We have to remember our limits. Yes, we did cross it, but we should not do it again."
Anjali nodded understandingly, "But I will die without him, Dad."
She reached for his hand, "today Vikram questioned the existence of my love. I cannot endure that insult." She said and slowly placed his hand against her chest. "You are my best option to keep telling me that I still belong to Vinayak. When you hold me, I don't feel like I lost him."
Madhav could feel her palm pressing over his palm on her chest, making him feel the softness. He pulled his hand out of her grip and cupped her face gently, eyes full of conflict.
"What are you making me into...Anjali?"
She cupped his face in return, her eyes locking into his. "I only want to live in his memories, and you are...." She paused to smile at him, as if instinctively, and then went on, "I know what we have done is a sin in the eyes of the world. But not in Vinayak's eyes. You are not stealing me from him. You're keeping me with him."
Tears slipped down her cheek despite her attempts to smile again. "Please don’t push me towards things I don’t want. I don’t want Vikram to touch me. Ever. Not even in a dream. I only want you… dad."
She paused, breathing unevenly.
"Kiss me. Please."

For a moment, Madhav sat frozen between duty and devastation. Then his eyes fluttered closed, and he kissed her. This time, there was no resistance.
Their mouths met with a slow, aching fire.
Anjali moaned softly into the kiss and leaned her body against his, desperate for warmth. She grabbed his hand again - this time, placing it firmly over her chest, and confidently pressing it to make him feel the softness of her breast.
"God forgive me…" Madhav whispered into her mouth before melting into her completely.

Their kiss deepened. Their breathing quickened. Before the kiss ended, Anjali gently leaned back, drawing Madhav along with her. Her hand held the back of his neck, not letting him part from her lips even for a breath. He followed her, slowly, as though caught in a current too strong to resist.

She lay on her back across the bed, and he climbed over her, his body trembling under the weight of choice, of sin, of something far more human than either of them could name. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, planting kisses that were slow and reverent. Anjali closed her eyes and let herself dissolve into the moment, into the warmth of him.

Her fingers reached under his T-shirt, exploring the chest she had wept against. She began lifting it, slowly, giving him time to stop her - but he didn’t. He raised his arms, allowing her to undress him. The sight of his bare chest, weathered with age and loss, only made her heart ache more.

She pulled him down beside her, and in one breathless movement, climbed over him - her legs straddling his waist. Her eyes met his as she pulled up her black floral kurti and tossed it aside. Without hesitation, she removed her creamy white bra to reveal her tender tits. She felt no shyness. She looked into his eyes and leaned down until her bare skin pressed against his chest.
"He loved this," she whispered to him. "Vinayak. He loved this part of me."

Madhav watched in, but his mind had shut its eyes in surrender. She first brought his hands to her breasts, and then started kissing him deeply. As Madhav opened his mouth to savour her warmth, Anjali's hands travelled lower, fumbling with the knot of his pyjama lace. She undid it quietly, and a moment later, she lowered it enough to free his dick. It was hard and long. There was no hesitation in her movements now - only the urgency of needing to feel him, to feel alive, to remember. She ran her palm along his length a few times, as if to ensure it was ready. A few moments later, she sat back to remove her pants. She removed her panties too to turn herself completely nude, like a statement on its own that said she was doing what she absolutely wanted to. As soon as she was naked, she grabbed his manhood gently again and then lowered herself on him, slowly, gasping softly as he entered her. Her eyes closed as their bodies joined without words, without barriers.
"I can feel him, Dad." She whispered and then started rocking against him in a quiet rhythm, her hands on his chest, her hair falling over her face.

Madhav gasped - lost in the moment, lost in her, lost in the weight of years lifted by the intimacy of this act. Anjali at first rod him in a sitting position, and soon lowered her chest to his body, while still moving her hip up and down. Madhav's mature body had caught fire, and he started jerking his hip upwards in an instinctive attempt to move his dick deeper into his daughter-in-law's tight pussy.

Anjali was getting tired of all the hard work, and her movements slowed down despite her eagerness to ride him till the end. She realised that the last time he might have been caught surprised, which resulted in an early finish, and this time it wasn't the case. Eventually, she surrendered.
"Dad...I want to lie down... Please go up... And..." She panted, "Please fuck me.... Please..."
She said and fell right next to him. Madhav had lost all his inhibitions by now. And he felt younger than he had ever felt in a decade, and he knelt between her legs and shoved his dick into her pussy. It disappeared smoothly, and Anjali welcomed him with a moan.
"Aaaah... Dad!"
"You good, dear?" Madhav asked.
Anjali shook her head, invitingly, "yes dad... mmm... It's good..."
Madhav lowered his head to land a passionate kiss on her lips, which she welcomed with utmost eagerness, and he then started fucking her. He rammed slowly but deliberately, making sure his dick travelled deep inside her young pussy.

Anjali spread her legs wide to let him complete access, and then pulled his torso down to her. She felt the desire to let him own all of her, peaking at the moment.
Leave nothing for anyone else. Leave nothing for Vikram.
"Aaah...dad... Yes.... Right there....aaah...!" She kept on encouraging him.
Madhav soon found the peak of his rhythm. When he finally let go, he groaned like a young man. He could not make it; whether it was lust or a sense of urgency propelled by guilt that made him groan like that.
He came inside her, and Anjali didn't make any attempt to stop him. She was happy to receive her father-in-law's live seeds into her pussy.

As he collapsed beside her, she felt a sense of satisfaction that was beyond the pleasure of everything that happened until then. She curled into him, her bare skin flush against the warmth of his body. She rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat. Her breasts pressed softly into him, her arm dbangd lazily over his waist.

She kissed his neck, not with hunger but with affection - like a woman who had finally stopped running.
"I feel alive now, Madhav," she murmured. She couldn't resist the urge to call him by name.
He looked down at her, faint surprise flickering in his eyes at hearing her use his name. He remembered that she had called him by name last time also, at the peak of emotion. He quickly felt good about it, for unknown reasons.
She smiled again, her eyes still heavy with emotion.
"A lot better," she added softly. "Thank you."

Madhav said nothing at first. He felt a little of his guilt fade away because of her daring act of calling him by name. It made the whole thing seem like something other than what existed between a father-in-law and daughter-in-law. He simply pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her with gentle protectiveness. Then he kissed her forehead lightly and let his hand rest on her bare back.
They didn't speak after that. A lot was left to be spoken, they both knew, but they also knew nothing would matter now.
Wrapped in each other's warmth, they fell asleep. They had walked through a long trail of grief and guilt, and it felt as though they had finally found a moment to rest.
But it was written that it would only be momentary.

[krish_999]

Thank you all for the comments and reviews. Some comments make me so excited. Today's chapter is slightly smaller but I promise the next one will come with shortened gap. (See the first post)

[krish_999]

Chapter - six

Anjali woke up to find herself lying naked in bed with Madhav. For a moment, she felt a moment of calm, as if she had reached a destination and there was no need to worry about anything. But then, as she looked around and let the truth fill her mind, she froze. The fragments of the night started flashing in her head. She remembered how she had sat on Madhav's hip and ridden him to pleasure. The hangover of how she had tried to please him without an ounce of shame came rushing back.

Before guilt could take hold, Anjali quietly moved away. At the exact moment, Madhav stirred and opened his eyes, meeting hers. She was sitting upright, her bare skin glowing faintly in the early morning light that crept into the room. It wasn’t fully bright yet, but enough for her to feel exposed. The tousled hair which she was trying to put back in place, and the neatly waxed armpit which she exposed while doing so, and then the fully naked youthfulness of her breasts, along with the almost non-existent belly folds - all of them were for him to witness as the first sight. Shyer than she had felt the night before, she instinctively tried to cover herself.

She looked around for her clothes but couldn’t find them. She must have thrown them away in her hurry last night.
Yes, I was in a hurry, she thought. In a hurry to sleep with my father-in-law.

Sensing her unease - or perhaps overwhelmed by his own guilt - Madhav turned away, sitting up on the other edge of the bed. She noticed the faint movement of his muscles beneath his shoulders, and memories of his body hovering above her came flooding back. He was aged, yes, but still manly enough.

But no, she told herself firmly. I won’t do it again. Though she quickly questioned the meaning of such self-assurance, after doing it for the second time despite knowing it was wrong.

Madhav bent down and picked something from the floor - it was her kurti.
Anjali grabbed it and quickly stood up to put it on. She almost walked out of the room before realising that it was, in fact, her own room, and that Madhav had come to her last night. For a brief moment, she wondered if it had all been a dream. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

As the morning light filled the room, reality settled between them like an invisible weight. They had done it again. And this time, it was deliberate. They had crossed the line so consciously that it could no longer be hidden under the veil of desperation.

At breakfast, Madhav finally spoke.
"We cannot repeat this again," Madhav said quietly. "Let’s not do it - it will not end well. I understand that we did it out of need, not desire. But it’s something that can make us addicted, and once it does, it will destroy everything you hold close to your heart."

He lowered his voice as Shalini entered the dining hall with tea.

Anjali nodded silently.

Madhav left for work later than usual that day. Anjali didn’t go anywhere. Before leaving, Madhav said softly, "Don’t think too much about it." He patted her shoulder as he spoke.

She nodded again.

But thinking about it was all she did. And in one of those long silences, she realised something strange - there was one small comfort in what had happened.

She no longer worried about Vikram’s kiss.

When she thought about it now, she felt oddly at peace.

That night, after dinner, Anjali made tea once again. The house had quieted down, the echo of plates and cutlery fading into silence. She stepped out onto the balcony with two cups in hand, the night breeze caressing the bare skin around her neck. She was wearing a brown sleeveless kurti. Madhav was already there, sitting on the couch, looking out at the dimly lit street below.
She handed him a cup and sat beside him. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward - it was the kind that held space for words yet to be formed.
Then Madhav asked softly, “What happened yesterday? With Vikram?”
Anjali didn’t meet his eyes. Her fingers circled the rim of her cup. “Vikram kissed me.”
Madhav turned slightly toward her. His expression didn’t change much. “You said it wasn't forced?”
“I couldn’t stop him.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I stood frozen… as if I owed it to him.”
Madhav nodded slowly, taking a sip of his tea. “It’s okay,” he said, after a pause. “He’s going to marry you. I want to meet him...”
“I don’t want to marry anyone,” Anjali interrupted, her tone sharp.
Madhav looked at her, surprised.
“I’m not ready to pretend again. And definitely not with someone like him.”
“But he’s your father’s choice,” Madhav reasoned gently. “He must be a good man.”
Anjali scoffed. “He liked me even before I married Vinayak. I remember the way he looked at me. And now that Vinayak is gone, it's like his wait is finally over. Do you know how awful it feels to think someone might be secretly happy about your husband’s death?”
Madhav’s face tensed. He didn’t deny her feelings. “Maybe that’s just how you see it.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Tell me I’m being unfair.”
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sighed and set his cup aside. “Vinayak isn’t coming back, Anjali. And we… we’ve done things. Things that we can't undo. Maybe, in some way, we’ve already started moving on. So, there's no point in claiming we can't move on."
She looked at him, her eyes searching his face. “I didn’t sleep with you to move on from Vinayak,” she said quietly. “I did it because… you’ve become him for me.”
Madhav couldn't reply. Her words sank in like slow drops of rain into parched earth. He turned to face her fully, his voice low. “I understand. More than you know. But in front of the world, Anjali… what we are, what we’ve done - none of it will be accepted. We can’t keep going like this. And we have proved that we can't stop ourselves."
She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder. He didn’t move. The night air held them in a stillness that felt like both shelter and silence.

The Next Day.
The phone rang late in the morning. Anjali picked it up and saw her father’s name flashing on the screen.
“So,” Manohar’s voice came through with its usual calm, “what do you think about Vikram?”
Anjali sighed. “I told you, Daddy. You see, Vikram liking me before my marriage with Vinayak is a positive sign, but I see it as a negative sign. I don’t like that he might be happy about Vinayak’s death. That this… opportunity has come to him only because my husband died.”
Her father laughed lightly, brushing aside her concern. “He told me he loves you more now. You know what? If he were an opportunistic person, her would have tried to come into touch with you as soon as Vinayak died. But he didn't. In my opinion, he always loved you, and Vinayak's death only added empathy in him; that's why he opened up to me when he learnt about my pain. And he said he felt something strong between you when you met. Anjali, you don’t need to worry - he’s ready to wait until you're ready for marriage.”
Anjali remained silent, her jaw tightening.
“He would help you move on from bad memories, Anjali,” her father added.
She closed her eyes. “Vinayak gave me no bad memories till death, daddy.”
There was a pause. Then her father’s voice softened. “His death is your bad memory, dear.”
Anjali didn’t respond. There was nothing more to say.
Despite repeated invitations from Vikram for another date, Anjali turned each one down, politely but firmly. Her silence became her resistance. But the quiet didn’t last.

One evening, her phone rang. It was her father, and his tone was sharp, unyielding.

“You’re being selfish,” he snapped. “You care nothing for the family. A good man is willing to accept you - with all that’s happened - and you reject him without a thought; without a thought about your sister and your parents."

His words stung, but it was what came next that made her chest tighten.

“Or is it because you’re enjoying the company of that old man, Madhav?” His voice was now bitter. “Don’t forget, he’s still your father-in-law. Do you want the world to know who you're living with, and how?”

The silence on Anjali’s end wasn’t guilt. It was the weight of betrayal by the one man who had once promised to protect her. She wondered when was the last time her daddy trusted her.

“I just need time,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m not saying no to Vikram. I just need space to be sure.”

“Space? Or excuses?” Manohar accused. “Vikram is coming to the city this weekend. You will meet him. You say you feel hostile to him, but that cannot be the end. Spend some time with him until you are comfortable. Get to know him. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice trembling with defiance.

“That’s fine,” he replied coldly. “I’ll consider your refusal as affirmation for the marriage. I’ll take it from here.”

“What kind of father are you?” she asked, her breath catching.

“The kind who still believes you can be saved,” he replied. “If you refuse again, I’ll take you away from Madhav - whether you agree or not. Don’t think I can’t.”

"Daddy," Anjali tried to remain calm. “You can’t do that. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. And I can defend myself.”

There was a pause before Manohar spoke again. “If I act, I’ll make sure Madhav is in no position to stop me. I will break him first. And then you’ll have no choice but to return to me.”

Fear curled like a cold serpent in Anjali's chest. She knew what her father was capable of - his words weren’t idle threats. Madhav has built a small empire through hardwork by himself that can be destroyed.
With no options left, Anjali gave in. Quietly. Unwillingly.

“I’ll go,” she said. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Before hanging up, Manohar issued one final warning. “Don’t tell Madhav. I want your mind clear of his influence. That’s the whole point of this meeting.”

Later that night, Vikram called.

“I heard that Dad was a little too harsh,” he said, his voice gentle. “But he’s just looking out for you. He thinks some fresh air, some distance, might help you think better.”

Anjali said nothing. She felt her daddy was scared that her persistent rejection would make Vikram back off from his proposal and move on. Otherwise, he wouldn't have assigned himself the role of a marriage broker like this.

“I’ll be in the city Friday night. There’s a business meeting I need to attend, but on Saturday I’m free. We can spend the day however you like.” Vikram said.

“I’m not meeting you in a hotel room,” Anjali said immediately, her voice firm.

“I’m not expecting you to,” he replied. “We’ll keep it decent. Your dad just wants you to be away from... everything else for a while. I hope you’ll come.”

Anjali didn’t respond at first. But in the end, fearing the storm her father might unleash, she said, “Okay. Saturday.”

[krish_999]

Dear Krish,

Before I address the recent update, allow me to first articulate something that has long demanded expression.

My admiration for your writing extends far beyond a single story. With the lone exception of your Malayalam work, a limitation solely on my linguistic capacity, not on its merit, I have followed your narratives with unwavering engagement. In fact, I have found myself withdrawing from other platforms entirely. I no longer feel compelled to explore stories elsewhere. The reason is neither novelty nor explicitness, it is depth.

What distinguishes your writing is not grand drama, nor sensationalism, but nuance. The restrained glance that lingers a second longer than necessary. The pause in dialogue that carries more meaning than the spoken word. The quiet confession that trembles beneath composure. The almost imperceptible gestures of intimacy that feel startlingly real. It is in these subtleties that your storytelling transcends fiction.

There is a particular scene from one of your stories that continues to reside in my memory with remarkable clarity. To an external observer, it may have seemed inconsequential, even simple. Yet for me, it was quietly transformative.

A married couple attends a wedding. Amidst the social bustle, they separate briefly to greet acquaintances. The husband, seated at a distance, watches his wife with a soft, unguarded smile — not possessive, not performative, merely present. She notices. She approaches him with playful composure and asks, “Are you trying to impress me with your smile, mister?” And before he can answer, she adds lightly, “I’m sorry… I’m already married,” raising her hand to display her ring.
Nothing dramatic occurs. No elaborate declarations. No heightened emotion. And yet, within that exchange lies a universe — affection, security, desire, companionship, exclusivity, playfulness. It is sensual without vulgarity. Romantic without exaggeration. Intimate without spectacle. That moment encapsulated a form of connection I find myself yearning for a love that is aware, assured, and quietly electric.

Your characters do not merely exist on paper; they infiltrate imagination. Meera, for instance, has become more than a fictional construct in my mind. There are moments in real life when a simple smile from someone evokes a spontaneous comparison — an unconscious wondering of how she would have smiled in that instant. It may sound irrational, perhaps even indulgent, yet it is a testament to how deeply your writing embeds itself within emotional consciousness.

And your erotic passages - oh my my - it possess a rare integrity. They do not feel engineered for provocation; they unfold as an organic extension of emotional proximity. There is psychological texture to them — a lived intimacy rather than a staged performance. The physicality is never detached from emotional context. It breathes. It flows. It feels inevitable rather than inserted.

Most remarkably, your narratives do not feel “constructed.” They feel observed. Conversations move with the cadence of real life. Emotional shifts occur gradually, without theatrical manipulation. There is an authenticity that renders the fiction almost indistinguishable from lived experience.

Now, turning to this latest chapter.

The psychological restraint demonstrated here is extraordinary. The aftermath of Anjali and Madhav’s transgression is rendered not through melodrama, but through stillness. That quiet morning — heavy with awareness — speaks louder than confrontation ever could. The absence of overt remorse makes the tension even more palpable. They are not reacting impulsively; they are reckoning consciously.

Anjali’s admission on the balcony elevates the narrative into profoundly complex territory. When she confesses that she did not seek Madhav to move beyond Vinayak, but because he has, in some intangible way, become him, the moral landscape shifts dramatically. This is no longer mere forbidden desire; it is emotional displacement, grief seeking continuity, attachment seeking preservation. One is compelled to reflect: is she escaping loss, or preserving it in another form? And does Madhav comprehend the psychological magnitude of what she has entrusted to him?

Manohar’s intrusion recalibrates the tension entirely. His paternal authority is layered with social calculation. Concern and control coexist uneasily within his tone. His threat toward Madhav signals that this story may soon transcend internal conflict and approach tangible confrontation. Whether this remains intimidation or evolves into action will define the coming arc.
Vikram, too, remains compellingly ambiguous. His composure could signify patience or strategic restraint. He is neither sufficiently virtuous to command sympathy nor overtly flawed enough to condemn. That ambiguity renders the forthcoming meeting laden with narrative potential.

This chapter does not merely progress the story; it deepens its moral and psychological architecture. The characters are increasingly human — flawed, self-aware, conflicted. The boundaries between right and wrong blur, yet the emotional truth sharpens.

Finally, allow me to extend sincere gratitude for the early update promised on the 5th. 

There remains much more I wish to articulate — but for now, I will simply say this:
Your writing does not merely tell stories. It shapes emotional imagination.

With anticipation for what lies ahead.

Warm regards, 
Sherlock. 

What an insightful comment. 
From the long explanation, I would like to quote one sentence that pleased me the most.
"Your writing does not merely tell stories. It shapes emotional imagination."
If this line feels true to anyone reading my stories, I will consider my writing fulfilled its purpose.  I've mentioned this during my comments in my earlier stories as well. I aim to make others imagine beyond what's written. I want readers to anticipate and imagine an intimate scene between two characters even before they actually happen in the story. The pleasure happens in the reader's mind.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts in such a detailed manner. 

Love. Krish.

[krish_999]

Chapter- seven

On Saturday, Anjali went to meet Vikram for lunch at a Dine-in restaurant. She chose a simple white midi dress with delicate embroidery, light and flowing against her skin, paired with a fitted denim jacket worn casually over it. Flat sandals and a medium-sized open-top bag, its handles hanging from her hand, completed the look - she had carefully chosen not to draw attention from Vikram. She reached the restaurant around noon, where Vikram was already waiting. They exchanged smiles and soon found themselves seated across from each other, sharing a quiet meal. Anjali found herself looking at his lips, thinking about the moment he had unexpectedly kissed her the other day. She felt uncomfortable during the early moments.
However, Vikram was charming in his conversations, polite in his gestures, slowly helping her come out of the memory.
After lunch, he surprised her by suggesting they watch a magic show nearby. He took her to the place in a hired car. Vikram had already booked a ticket.

The performance lasted almost an hour and a half, filled with wonder and lighthearted moments. They both laughed, clapped, and occasionally leaned in to whisper reactions, making the experience feel unusually intimate. At one particular moment, when the magician reappeared safely after a seemingly fatal challenge, Anjali grabbed Vikram's hand and shouted, "holy shit!" She quickly laughed at herself.
By the time it ended, Anjali felt at ease with Vikram.

Later, they moved to a coffee shop in the same complex. As they sipped their drinks, Vikram gently brought up a subject left hanging since their last meeting.

"I'm sorry for the other day," he said, sincerity softening his tone. "I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking."

Anjali was caught off guard by the apology, but it felt good to hear. It gave her a sense of control again.

"Thank you for saying that," she replied. "Because I've been feeling very bad about it."

The conversation soon drifted to their personal lives and ambitions. Vikram opened up about his business - how he built it from scratch without relying on his father’s legacy. Anjali listened with interest. His story sounded similar to Vinayak's. When he asked about her own career, Anjali mentioned how she had once tried to help Vinayak's company in Dubai after his death. “It didn’t work out... I was alone there,” she added. “But helping Madhav here was different. He supported me.”

Vikram leaned in slightly, his voice gentle. “You can take up a key role in my firm if you wish. Though, if you ask me honestly... I’d love for you to just be by my side - as my life partner.”

His words held both affection and a possessive pride that made Anjali feel desired and thus slightly uncomfortable. But she smiled and said, “I’ll work. It keeps me busy.”

He chuckled. “Then your ideas are welcome too. I’d value your perspective. The Anjali I know from the college was sharp - I'm sure you'll see what others miss.”
Anjali smiled as she remembered that it was a remark Madhav had told her a couple of times after joining his office.
As they finished their coffee, Vikram suggested they see another part of the building. Anjali agreed without much thought. The lift carried them to the top floor, opening into a lavish suite. For a moment, Anjali felt confused about how they ended up in such a place. Vikram hadn't taken her to the reception. Anjali realised it only when she walked into the private suite. It seemed spacious enough to accommodate a small crowd, the size of the room psychologically providing a sense of security. The suite had a low bed covered in white linen, a large two-seater sofa beside a glass-topped tea table, and a tall dressing mirror as the main set of furniture. Soft ambient lamps and thick curtains decorated the room, while a few neatly stacked magazines appeared to be designed to impress rather than invite.

Anjali noticed the bed at once. It seemed like a symbol of romantic invitation, a reminder that this evening is in fact a date, and she was there with a man who must have dreamt of mating with her on the same bed. The sight unsettled her, and she looked away immediately.

She chose the sofa, sitting down carefully.
"This is where I stay when I visit the city," Vikram said casually.
"You live well," Anjali replied.
"I love to live well," Vikram said and sat with her. And he slowly grabbed her hand. "Would joining a life like this trouble you?"

His sitting close and touching her made Anjali's body stiffen. But she didn't feel the urge to get up. She just looked away, her mind torn. Vikram wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t harsh like her father. But his insistence stirred something uncomfortable inside her - like she was being slowly moulded into a role she hadn’t chosen for herself.
"I should leave," she said, thinking of the quickest way to leave and head home.
"We will," Vikram leaned closer, and put his left hand behind her, casually touching her back. Her right hand remained in the grip of his right hand. "But before that, I want clarity." He added.
"Clarity?" Anjali looked at him.
“I’m not the kind of man who waits around, Anjali,” he said. “I don’t enjoy long misunderstandings or endless emotional stalking. I believe people know fairly quickly what they’re willing to step into.”
She didn't look away. “And you think a hotel room settles that?”
“No,” he said calmly. “A decision does.”
Anjali felt his left hand pressing behind her waist - though not pulling her closer, just present. Making the touch deliberate. She hated that her heart was beating faster. She wanted to stay calm, showing no nervousness.
"Do you think this is the right way to talk me into something?" Anjali didn't hide her disgust. "You can't impress any girl like this."
"I don't know how to impress a girl," Vikram admitted blankly. "The girl I proposed before this was you, years ago. After that, I've lived the life of a businessman. I'm no womaniser, and I'm not trying to be one. Look, Anjali, there's no secret between us. You already know that I love you, and I have expressed that already. I have the consent of your daddy. I'm not asking you to date me. That stage is over, and I also know that you're not expecting a date."
"But you are talking like I'm an object that's up for taking."
"Maybe I don't know how to communicate. But I intended to be honest."
"What do you think I do now? I just let you take my hand and lead me to that bed?"
"That's an exaggeration." He glanced at the bed as if wondering what was wrong with it.
"Then?"
“I don't know." He looked away from her and then back. "Maybe I will take a kiss.”
She stared at him. “You’re serious?” She couldn't believe he said that.
“Yes.”
“No,” she said at once and looked distantly to the other end of the room. “That’s not happening.”
“Then this ends here. I'll speak to your daddy.” Vikram said and took his hands off her.
“That’s not fair,” she said. “You bring me here and ask for something like this?”
“I didn’t force you to come,” he replied. “And I’m not forcing you now.”
She leaned backwards on the sofa, crossing her arms. “You think a kiss proves something?”
“It proves you’re at least willing to try,” he shrugged his shoulder as he said. “I don’t want promises. I don’t want explanations. Just clarity. Isn’t that what your daddy asked for? Just a chance?”
What my daddy asked for!
Her father's voice still echoed in her ears - 'If you refuse again, I’ll take you away from Madhav... I will make sure he is in no position to stop me. I will break him first.' She swallowed hard.

After a moment, she exhaled. “Okay,” she said. “Just to end this torture.”
Even as she said that, at the back of her mind, she was thinking if she could just get up and leave. But something inside her kept holding her back into inaction. A sense of helplessness was growing inside her. She knew she had no one to complain to.
"Well then... come..." Vikram invited her. He slowly grabbed back her hand, and she felt his other hand behind her waist again. Her heartbeats began to rise further.
But she gathered herself and leaned towards him. There was hesitation in her movement, but she managed to lean closer to brush her lips against his - featherlight contact, just enough to end the conversation.

But Vikram seized the moment. Before she could pull back, his left arm moved around her waist, and he placed his other behind her ear, and his mouth pressed firmly on hers, turning it into something longer, deeper. His lips moved hungrily, sucking her lips into his mouth, like he had been waiting for this permission.

Her body stiffened.
This wasn’t the kiss she gave - it was something he was taking.
Her chest tightened. A wave of resentment rose in her throat, not just for him, but for herself.
In that moment, it wasn’t Vikram she saw - it was a stranger trying to write himself into a chapter she had not agreed to start. Her mind flashed with the realisation: If I marry him, there will be more kisses like this. More touches. More nights. And eventually, she’d lie beside him, submitting her body while her heart still ached for Vinayak.
Anjali broke away abruptly and pushed him back. And she jumped up to stand two steps away from the sofa.

“Scoundrel,” she muttered in a tone mixed with more embarrassment and less anger. “What the hell was that, Vikram?” She wiped her lips with her hand.
He only grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “That's called a kiss. Our first kiss. Don’t act shocked now.”
“You said I would kiss. Not you. I intended just a light kiss, not this feeding you my lips," she snapped, stepping back further. “This is not what I meant.”
“You didn’t stop me either,” he replied, his voice still laced with playful arrogance. “And if we’re being honest, you didn’t exactly hate it.”
Her eyes flared. “Don’t you dare put words in my mouth.”
“Then put better ones,” he said with a wink.
For one moment, Anjali felt Vikram was actually a womaniser who could seduce any girl he wanted, but chose to act weirdly only to enjoy the thrill of toying with her emotions.

She continued to stare at him, despite her heart thudding in her chest. “You think this is all a joke, don’t you?”
Vikram was completely unfazed. He leaned back on the sofa. “I think it’s the beginning of something.”
“No,” she said, “it’s the beginning of nothing.”

She turned and walked away quickly towards the lift, needing space and air. She felt she needed to shut out the sick feeling inside her that she had just betrayed something sacred.
“Next time, maybe we'll skip the conditions.”
She heard Vikram from behind her. She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Because she had realised that he was not just wrong as a match for her, it was dangerous. He was not after her. He was after winning.
Anjali soon found a cab to return home. Sitting in its backseat, she couldn't help but replay the memory of that kiss. She couldn't shake the feel of his body pressing against hers. His hands had circled her lower back, pulling her close. She had even felt his manly desire for her. It unsettled her. She pressed her teeth in anger.

She thought for a moment about telling her father - but she knew it would change nothing. For him, Vikram expressing his passion for her would be exactly what he wanted. 'Marry him,' he would say.

At home, she threw away her denim jacket on the couch and sat there. And waited for Madhav to return. Shalini was cooking dinner in the kitchen. However, when Madhav returned, Anjali couldn't feel the energy to talk to him, though she had a sea of thoughts to convey to him. She took a quick shower, hoping it would clear her clogged mind, but only in vain. The restlessness only increased.
Even after dinner, she couldn't erase the strange impatience stirring inside her - a need to take back control of her body, her decisions, her desires.

“No tea time today?” Madhav asked with a smile, seeing her close the kitchen door. Shalini had already left.
“No tea,” she said softly. “But... I have something else for you tonight.”
She reached for his hand, and without saying more, she led him quietly towards her bedroom.
Madhav hesitated. “Anjali…” He knew.

But Anjali didn’t wait. Her mind still burned from the violation of being kissed against her will. She wanted to feel wanted again - but this time by someone who understood her silences, who touched her with care, not conquest. Her grip on his hand didn't loosen.

Inside the room, she locked the door and took off her bright yellow kurta straightaway. Then she stepped forward and kissed him, gently at first, but with a longing that spoke volumes.
Madhav stood still, mechanically allowing her to kiss him. However, as Anjali's kiss grew passionate, he also sensed his mind feeling lighter. A thought that he was being useful in calming down an agitated soul became an instant justification not to step back. However, the truth was that his body and soul had become accustomed to the pleasure he had enjoyed twice in being useful to his daughter-in-law's strange method to deal with the heartbreak. Slowly, without making a conscious effort, Madhav's arms circled her, caressing the bare skin behind her belly. And he opened his mouth to return her kiss, sucking her lips slowly. But Anjali's energy outgrew him with fervor and she kissed him like she was possessed.
"I need you, Dad. Take me to the bed." Anjali whispered in a hurried breath during the kisses.
Madhav followed her lead to the bed and sat on the edge. Anjali quickly started to unbutton his shirt. After a few top buttons, she hurriedly pulled the shirt to remove it over his head.
"What happened today?" Madhav looked up. He knew there must be a reason behind her behaviour.
"Nothing," Anjali replied without thinking, for she didn't want to recollect what had happened. She bent forward to kiss Madhav again, this time all over his face. "I only need you in this world. I'm happy to be here, Dad."
Madhav was still not putting in much effort. Anjali grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts. "Dad..." She called as if to wake him up. And then quickly reached behind her to unhook her bra with one hand. She had caught his eye like a hook, and she smiled fondly as she slid down the bra straps and finally pulled it off to present her father-in-law with a full view of her young, delicate breasts. And then with a newfound confidence, she leaned forward and hugged him, bringing her soft melons to his mouth. Not only that, but she also took extra care to bring her tits into his mouth to make him suck on them. Very soon, Madhav hit the tempo she had been longing for, and sucked on her tits, licking and caressing them with equal measure. The hesitation, responsibility, and guilt faded with each passing moment as his testosterone took over his senses. The erect and tender nipples became wet as he ran his tongue around them. Anjali was delighted with his growing enthusiasm. She cupped her palms around his face.
"I've chosen you, Dad," she whispered. "You're the only person I can get peace from, now..."
She turned around as if you let him enjoy her back, and even felt the courage to slightly bend forward to invite him to feel the roundness of her ass cheeks. The way he had been fondling them made her think he held a special liking for their softness. But she felt shy as soon as she turned away from him and bent forward. She smiled and sat on his lap. And then brought his hands to her breasts from both sides. She leaned further back and turned her head to kiss his left cheek. Madhav caressed her breasts fondly and proceeded to press her soft belly before going further down to insert his fingers inside her pants. His right hand went all the way inside her panties and touched her pussy. She was wet; she knew the first touch itself would have soaked his fingers.
"Mmm..." A soft moan escaped her lips.
She breathed and turned her head to kiss him again, this time he welcomed her with his lips. They kissed intensely, with both of them sucking each other's mouths. Madhav's fingers started moving, and Anjali's breathing only got heavier.
"It feels so good, Madhav. So hot yet so calm. Keep going, please..." She whispered. Madhav's left hand was still roaming over her breasts, fondling the softness and occasionally pinching her erect nipples.
Anjali couldn't stop the urge to reciprocate his touch; she brought her right hand into his lower body, immediately finding the growing erection in his pants. It was getting close to the shape she had been secretly longing for. She moved a little to the side, to sit on his left thigh and confidently inserted her hand inside his pants. She found the length and soon grabbed it.
"Aaahh...mmm... I'm feeling good, Madhav... Don't you like me touch it? Mmm?" She asked while trying to stroke it gently, still inside his pants.
"I like it, Anjali."
Madhav admitted. The shame had vanished without a hint.
"I want to give you more," Anjali said and got up, and lowered her remaining clothes. She removed one leg from it and then kicked the cloth off her other leg in a hurry. When she touched his pants, Madhav helped her by getting up slightly to drop them down to his ankles. Anjali immediately climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs. And without a pause, they together guided his whole length inside her pussy.
"Aaah..." She moaned again. The pleasure of getting her pussy walls stretched by him invaded her body and mind like vengeance. No matter how hard anyone tried to get her, she knew she had chosen what she wanted at heart. She felt at peace with her inner self.
This is who I am. She felt.
She started to ride him while kissing him. The kiss soon broke, as she rode him faster. Her breasts danced into his face. Her nipples kept touching his mouth and nose, and she felt even better. After a few minutes, Madhav eased himself to move a little back and lay across the bed, with Anjali properly climbing on to him, and throwing her hip up and down to ride his dick. The pleasure was mounting despite her breath getting heavier. Her body had caught on fire with lust.
Eventually, she lay on the bed, across it, and invited Madhav to get on top. He lifted her legs up and wide, and then pushed his dick into her well fucked open hole. Anjali welcomed his sudden entry with a surprise cry, "haaah!" And then giggled a little. She had enjoyed it.
"I loved that, Madhav. I love you." She gasped.
"I love you too, dear," Madhav said and brought himself down to kiss her lovingly. They shared a lot of saliva during the kiss, and he soon started moving, fucking her properly. Her young and firm breasts kept changing their shape each second, dancing to the tune of his thrusts. The soft bed squeaked. The room was filled with the sound of them moaning and panting together. But still, the sound of their hips hitting each other became the loudest. Anjali was surprised by the strength and stamina of Madhav. She remembered that she hadn't particularly experienced the pleasure of his dick moving in and out of her pussy, and how tight it felt inside of her, due to the pressure of the situations both the previous times. Both times, she just wanted to merge with him and become his part rather than treating it like a lovemaking process. This time, however, it felt different. She wanted him to go on forever and keep on extending the pleasure.
"Keep going... Madhav... Don't stop... it's so good, oh God, please...." She had lost track of her words. She held her legs wide and accepted the hard pounding.
In her mind, she even wanted to warn him from cumming and killing the pleasure. She controlled her urge, though, seeing no sign of Madhav losing his strength. He took a couple of pauses in between to adjust and arrange his posture, and he went on to fuck her deeper and longer to push her senses beyond her grasp, and to a place she hadn't anticipated. An innate feeling to explode within gradually took over her, and she felt it all getting completely out of control.
"Aaahh... God! Oh my god, oh my god! Haaa..." She screamed with pleasure. She felt her whole body trembling with an unexpected sensation and goosebumps. She didn't hold back her response and pinched his skin while crying out through the orgasmic pleasure.
Madhav didn't stop there. He continued to fuck her steadily for more, and when he came down to kiss her, Anjali pushed her tongue into his mouth and let him suck it deep into his mouth. She felt an urge to make him suck all the saliva out of her mouth. And when he ended the kiss and smiled through the heavy breathing, she held his head still and licked over his lips. In response, he kissed her again and pressed his teeth deliberately on her lips. His thrusts were getting faster, and she felt his dick was growing even stronger inside her. She couldn't control the aching pleasure it gave her, and she cried.
"Oh my God... You are doing it so well, Dad... It is sooo good....aaahh...aaah..."
Madhav's breathing started resembling an animalistic grunt. Anjali felt he was preparing to cum.
"Do it... Dad... Inside me. I'll take a pill. Just finish it, please..." She encouraged him. Madhav remembered that she hadn't mentioned taking a pill before this.
"Did you take a pill last time too? Huh?" He asked, without pausing.
"I was on safe days, Dad."
"Oh," Madhav smiled as if he didn't expect that. He came down to kiss her once. And then he murmured, "Then I'm cumming inside you, my girl." So saying he rammed hard and then shot his load inside her. Anjali felt the thrill of getting her pussy filled with his hot sperm as joyous as the orgasmic pleasure she had experienced a few minutes ago. "It feels great, Madhav. I'm so happy now. You make me happy." She didn't feel shy to express her emotions.
Madhav panted heavily, and it took him some time to recover from the pleasure blast. Anjali kept caressing his arms and body. Madhav eventually fell and lay next to her, and Anjali quickly hugged him tight from the side.
"You are great, Dad."
"I love it when you call me Madhav. Am I that young?" Madhav wondered.
Anjali smiled at him sheepishly. "I've just found that you are so," she reached to kiss his neck, and patted lovingly at his cheek. "You are my Vinayak."
She didn't hesitate to bring back Vinayak's memory, for she didn't believe she was betraying him. Through Madhav, she felt like finding a way to return to Vinayak.

She kissed him again and again, as if each kiss was a seal to something sacred, something only the two of them could understand.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, their bodies tangled, their breaths slowly returning to rhythm. Anjali rested her head on his chest, her breasts pressing against his body, her fingers drawing lazy circles across his skin. She could sense the dampness on his chest. He had worked harder than ever, and it was worth it.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said after some time. “But it makes me feel… better. You make me feel better.”
Madhav turned his head towards her, though looked unsure of what to say. Anjali added with a grin, “You’re good at this. Not just good - great.”
He let out a low chuckle. “I know.”
She smiled, eyes soft and sleepy. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere. Away from this place, this house, these people. Just you and me. Somewhere, the world doesn’t know us. We could live in peace, with our memories. You’ll get your wife back. And I… I’ll get my Vinayak.”

She kept whispering, her voice growing more tired with each word, her fingertips gently stroking his chest. She felt strangely soothed by the contrast - the warmth of his body against her, and the cool air brushing her bare back.

Madhav remained quiet. He was still catching his breath from their intense session, his body feeling younger, strangely alive. A part of him wanted to say yes. Wanted to believe it was that simple.
But he knew the world they had to wake up tomorrow was not kind to people like them.

He closed his eyes and held her closer, letting her dream aloud. For tonight, at least, he would let her believe that such a world could exist.

[krish_999]

Chapter- Eight

The next morning, Madhav did not leave for the office at his usual time. He suggested to Anjali that they leave together for his office. By the time Anjali got ready, Shalini had finished her morning chores and left. And Madhav asked Anjali to sit on with him for a chat.
“Anjali, I'm not sure how serious you were when you suggested it last night," he began carefully. "About continuing like this… but I still want to talk about it. Because it's not realistically possible.”
Anjali remained silent, her eyes on the floor in front of her.
“We may have our own explanations to satisfy ourselves,” Madhav continued, “but that’s not how the world works. Everyone is answerable to someone, in some way.”
Anjali looked down at her hands.
“I know I have to move on,” she said quietly. “But sometimes… it feels hard to endure life...”
Madhav watched her for a moment before replying.
“You should at least consider the person your daddy has chosen,” he said. “Manohar isn’t saying it for himself. He believes it will be good for you.”

For a moment, Anjali wondered if she should tell him the truth, that Manohar already knew about what had happened between them. But the words refused to come.
Madhav leaned back slightly.
“And if you’re not comfortable with Vikram,” he added, “that’s fine. No one's forcing you. We can find someone else.”
She looked up, surprised.
“You don’t have to rush into anything serious. Just meet people. Have a coffee. Go on a short trip. Take a small vacation. You have friends, don’t you?”
His tone was calm, but the meaning was clear. He was stepping away from the mess.
Anjali said nothing.

They left for the office together. Nothing was spoken about the subject thereafter.
Until she got a call from her father, just before lunch break.

“So,” Manohar began, his voice betraying the eagerness in his mind, “how did it go with Vicky? Must have been a good evening, no?”
Anjali took a moment before replying. “He’s a decent person. Polite… but, Dad… he… I mean… he's a little weird. I don't know how you understand... he tried to....”
There was a pause, and then Manohar chuckled. “Well, Vicky told me he got a kiss from you. Didn’t sound like he was forcing anything.”
Anjali’s fingers clenched around the phone. “It wasn’t like that. He crossed the line.”
“You girls these days get upset over the smallest things,” he scoffed. “He’s going to be your husband. You’d better get used to closeness.”
Anjali closed her eyes, the familiar sting of powerlessness crawling up her spine. Her father’s tone wasn’t angry - it was worse, it was indifferent. Perhaps he was just content that he was finally making her do what he wanted. Her voice, however firm, always fell into an abyss when it came to matters he had already decided.

Anjali told Madhav about her father’s call. “He’s deciding everything,” she said angrily. “Where I live. Who do I marry? As if I don’t exist.”
Madhav listened, and after a long pause, he sighed.
“Anjali, last night you mentioned leaving the country and living in a distant world. It’s possible you said that in a sudden rush of emotion. Still, I wanted to tell you that it’s not practical, not even as an imagination to provide comfort to our minds."
Anjali frowned. “So we just pretend this never happened?”
“We know what we’ve lost,” he said calmly. “But running away won’t fix it. The world doesn’t disappear because we want it to.” He paused. “The pain… I know. But we can’t live with it forever. For that to happen, you need to move on.”
“From you?” she asked softly.
Madhav didn’t answer immediately. Then he nodded.

In the evening, she got multiple phone calls from Vikram. She didn't answer any of them.

The next day, something unusual happened. As she was walking through the corridor of Madhav’s office, Vedant - a young manager known for his professionalism and boyish charm - approached her.
He gave a polite smile. “Anjali, I hope this doesn’t come off the wrong way… but would you mind joining me for a coffee sometime?”
It was the first time he was talking to her. The only interactions they had until then were the smiles of acknowledgement they had exchanged during meetings.
She blinked. “Coffee?”
“I mean… if it’s okay to ask. You can say no. I just thought... I’d like to know you beyond meetings and reports.”
There was something disarming about his honesty. No games, no pretence. Just a kind request. After a moment’s pause, Anjali surprised herself by saying yes.

They met at a small café tucked away from the busy street. The lights were soft, and the breeze carried the scent of roasted beans and cold rain. They talked easily - mostly about office jokes and food, and later a bit about music and movies. He was witty, flirted gently, but never stepped across the line. Anjali found herself smiling more than she had in weeks. To help her feel at ease, Vedant never asked anything about Vinayak. He already knew the tragedy.

However, when it ended, Anjali suddenly wondered if Madhav had something to do with it. The timing of someone showing up to ask her out felt too convenient. Yet she didn’t ask Madhav. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Perhaps she preferred that her doubt not turn out to be true.

In the evening, she left Vikram's phone calls unanswered as usual. But every time his name flashed on the screen, she found her heartbeats getting tighter. She was getting nervous.

That night, Manohar called again. His tone was not amused.
“You went out with another man? Who is this Vedant?”
"How do you know about Vedant?" She didn't know how her father had found out about her casual coffee date. “It was just a coffee.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Manohar's voice rose. “You need my push and convincing to go out with Vicky, but have no problem going with some random guy?"
Anjali stiffened. "It was just a coffee, Daddy." She said.
“I don’t care!” Manohar shouted. “From now on, I don’t want you to disrespect Vicky. Put it into your head, Anjali. This marriage is happening. You’d better write that on your wall, so you wake up every day and read it.”
Anjali’s protests were met with silence. He had hung up.

Two days later, after her morning yoga practice, Anjali was stepping into the shower. Madhav had already left for the office, and Shalini was preparing to leave after finishing her household chores.
Just as the warm water began to run down her shoulders, Anjali heard the doorbell ringing. Anjali closed the tap and tried to listen to know if Shalini was still there to answer the doorbell.
She heard the front door opening, and a few seconds later, Shalini's footsteps.
Shalini said it's someone named Vikram.
“Tell him to wait,” Anjali said aloud. “I’m in the shower. And can you make tea for Vicky before you leave?”
Shalini went back. Anjali closed her eyes as the water streamed over her face. She wondered why he had come. Perhaps Daddy would have told him he had chided his daughter, and now Vikram would be expecting her to show warmth and cooperation. Despite the anger, Anjali knew she had to be careful.
And she decided she needed to warn Vikram not to convey the outcome of every meeting to her daddy.

After finishing her shower, Anjali wrapped a towel around herself and hurried to her room to change. She had just slipped into her leggings and was holding her kurta against her front when there was a knock on the door.
“Anjali?” Vikram’s voice.
“I’m changing. Wait outside.”
The door opened anyway.

He stepped in and then tapped the door backward to close it behind him. His face was serious, impatient.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “but I can’t wait anymore. I need to know. What’s the final word, Anjali? Yes or no? I can’t live in this uncertainty.”
Her heart began to pound. She clutched the kurta tighter across her chest.
“What is this behaviour, Vikram? Can’t you see I’m changing?” she snapped. “You should go out. Now.”
“I didn’t see anything,” he said calmly, dismissing her anger. “Put it on first, and then tell me your decision.”
“I still need time,” Anjali said as she forced herself out of the shock and quickly wore the kurti. She turned slightly to the side, but she knew it still exposed her bra-clad body to him. Vikram watched nonchalantly, as if she were simply drinking a cup of water.
“But why? Is there someone else?” His voice lowered. “Is there something you’re hiding?”
She didn’t turn to him, her mind racing. Vinayak. Madhav. The tangled truth she couldn’t speak. She kept adjusting the kurti on her body. The thin fabric clung to the places where there were still drops of water on her skin.
“Anjali.” He stepped closer, and the distance between them shrank. Anjali didn’t know what to do. For a moment, she even wondered why Shalini wasn’t showing up at the door.
He grabbed her hand and turned her toward him. “Tell me.”
She flinched. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
“I want you to trust me.”
“I’ll call Shalini,” she said sharply, raising her voice. “Shalini!”
Vikram didn’t move. “She left,” he replied evenly. “After serving the tea. I told her I've come to pick you up.”
Anjali’s stomach tightened. She had told Shalini to leave after making tea, but she wasn't ready to admit it to Vikram.
“You sent her away?” she asked.
“I just wanted some privacy,” he said. “Don’t overthink it.”
The room suddenly felt smaller. The air felt heavier.

The tension that had been building in her mind each time his name flashed on her phone screen over the past few days was now reaching a peak. She didn’t know how to respond.

“Don’t be scared of me, Anjali,” Vikram said nonchalantly, placing his hands softly on her upper arms. Then he lowered them slowly, his palms sliding along her forearms. After reaching her elbows, his grip tightened, and he continued downward, claiming her arms with deliberate firmness.
Anjali did not let go of her stance, but a wave of unease surged through her. He was forcing space between them.
“What are you doing? Leave my hand,” she protested, pulling her arms free from his grasp.
Vikram did not grab her again. Instead, he spoke softly, as though calming a restless child. “Shh… Anjali. Don’t fight what’s meant to be.”
Her voice trembled. “I’ll scream if you try to force me.”
“I have no such intentions, Anjali. We’re not going to have sex,” Vikram said calmly.
“Then what is this?” she demanded.
She backed away until she hit the edge of the dressing table. As she steadied herself by placing her hands behind her on the surface, her posture opened unintentionally. Though she was now fully dressed, she felt unbearably exposed under his gaze.
“Vikram! Stop this!” she shouted.
But he moved even closer.
“I just want you to understand how much I want you,” he said quietly.
“If this is how you show it, then you’re intimidating me. And I’ll have to keep my distance,” Anjali warned, trying to steady her breath.
His eyes moved over her slowly. She felt it—the weight of his stare, the hunger he was trying to mask behind measured breathing. It made her skin prickle, not with desire, but with alarm.
Then his voice shifted.
“I know what happened between you and your father-in-law.”
Anjali’s heart stopped.
“What?”

“Don’t try to deny it,” Vikram said, his tone steady but firm. “I’m the only person you don’t need to lie to anymore. Because I already know the truth.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Anjali froze - not because of his accusation, but because of the certainty in his voice.
For the first time, fear replaced anger.
And she realised this visit had never been about a proposal.
It had been about control.

Anjali's lips parted, but no words came out. A thousand questions bombarded inside her. The sum of all of those broken questions was how he knew.
Only her daddy had found out. But her daddy couldn't betray her like that.
Or had he whispered it in Vikram's ears so that he could stun her beyond self-grip?
No. It wasn't possible. She tried to assure herself.

Vikram stepped closer and gently cupped her face. “You look like lightning just struck you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Do you think I don’t see how shattered you are?”

Vikram's face was moving closer to hers. She felt her breath would soon touch him. Anjali felt something hollowing out her chest. She wanted to scream. She wanted to vanish. Her heart ached with the force of a blow she hadn’t braced for.
“You probably have no idea how much I want you,” Vikram whispered, and before she could react, he kissed her.

This time, she didn’t stop him. Something in her had broken too far. She stood still, lips caught in his, limbs heavy with confusion and helplessness.
He paused briefly and touched his forehead to hers. “That’s how much you’ve grown into me,” he said. “You live here now - inside me.”
Then his lips found hers again, firmer, hungrier. His arms wrapped around her. She barely remembered that she was standing in an absurd condition. Her legs and arms were shaking from the inside. Her lips were being pulled into his mouth. The back of her hip was being invaded by his arms. And she couldn't even breathe properly.
She was dazed - lost between the power to resist and the will to surrender.
Vikram gave a break to the kiss after a few seconds, making Anjali gasp, though it didn't relieve her with any solace whatsoever.

“Do you love him, Anjali?” Vikram asked suddenly, his breath warm against her chin.
Anjali blinked, shaken by the question. “What?”
“Do you love your father-in-law the way you loved Vinayak?”
Anjali didn’t answer at once. Her gaze dropped. Her lips parted slightly.
“No,” she said finally, her voice a mere whisper.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Vikram said, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You need saving. You need to be pulled out of this... illusion. And I’m going to do that. Because I love you more than anything in this world.”

Then he kissed her again. Longer. Deeper. His hands roamed her back, her waist, her hips, and pressed her closer. In a few seconds, he had her pinned against the dressing table. His lips trailed along her neck, down to her chest, and lower - his movements filled with a hunger she hadn’t felt from him before.
“Vikram...” she murmured, a hint of hesitation.
But he was already on his knees. His mouth pressed over her lower belly, then moved between her legs, still over the fabric of her clothes.
Her breath caught. “Vikram, stop…”
He looked up. “Don’t make me stop, Anjali. I just want to show you how much I want you. Believe me.”
"You are forcing me..." Anjali tried to talk.
“I won’t cross the line,” he said quietly. “I just want you to understand something. What happened in your past doesn’t frighten me. It doesn’t disgust me. If you think it makes you flawed, then I’m willing to accept those flaws.”
His voice softened, but the intensity did not.
“I’m not here to take something from you. I’m here to show you that nothing about you pushes me away.”
She swallowed. “Then what are you doing?”
“I’m communicating,” he replied. “How deeply you’ve grown inside my head. You can’t stop me now. Even I can’t. I’m obsessed with you, Anjali.”
The way he locked her eyes and said it froze her more than his touch.
He reached beneath the kurti, and she felt the last barrier fall away. Her mind screamed to move, to protest - but her body felt distant, unresponsive. Shock had numbed her.
Before she could respond, he reached under the kurti and tugged down her pants along with the panties in one swift motion. She gasped, hands instinctively reaching to stop him, but he was already there - pressing his mouth against her now bare centre. His tongue traced deliberate, aching circles. She whimpered, her body reacting against her will.
“Vikram… don’t… please…”
But his hands gripped her thighs and parted them further. He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder, making her feel vulnerable - exposed - but unable to pull away.

His mouth moved with slow, deliberate precision, and his tongue began with a delicate touch over her inner lips. It tickled Anjali at first, with a sense of disgust still brimming inside her, and then her breath became shallow, her chest arching inward, and her mouth quivering.
Vikram’s tongue moved over her as if it were searching for an entrance. It finally stopped right at the opening, but he didn’t push it in. Instead, his lips moved and engulfed her, and then his tongue slid masterfully forward to directly touch her clit.
“Ahh… Vikram…” she gasped, clutching the edge of the table, knuckles pale.
Anjali didn’t realise it, but her body had been anticipating it, longing for a wet touch right there. The moment his tongue came into contact with her clit, she felt a shiver pass through her body, replacing the ticklish feeling with something new - something she had never felt before. And she didn't know which spell had been cast upon her.

It was the first time she was feeling a man’s tongue there. She never knew she would welcome him like this. She wanted to take her leg off his shoulder - but that was only until a moment ago. Vikram's tongue continued to move around her, and by the time he paused and looked up into her eyes, Anjali had surrendered her will to resist. She didn’t know when she had begun to see him as someone who held authority over her.
“This is all I want to do. Can you bear this version of me?” he asked, a tint of teasing in his eyes.
“Oh, Vicky… what are you doing with me?”
She sighed. The cold air now touching her exposed pussy annoyed her, but she didn’t know how to cover it.
“Did you like it?” he asked again.
He got up without waiting for her reply. Anjali barely placed her foot on the floor and steadied her breath as Vikram led her to the bed.
“Lie down here,” he said and kneeled again, as Anjali sat on the edge of the bed. Vikram grabbed her legs again, and Anjali knew what he was going to do. This time, she was ready. She lay back across the bed, stared at the ceiling, and let him lift and spread her legs. She closed her eyes and anticipated.
The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue met her again, and she let out a soft moan.

From there, Vikram met no resistance from her as he continued with unhurried exploration and confident rhythm. His mouth didn’t move away, even for a break. Heat coiled low in Anjali’s stomach as she let the pleasure spread through her body. To her own dismay, she was completely overwhelmed. She took deep breaths, gasping for air in an attempt to contain the rising waves within her. Her body had betrayed her, and she was no longer trying to resist. In fact, she didn’t hold back at all. Vikram's hands had started to freely explore the softness of her thighs at will. She didn’t mind.
“You know what?” Vikram suddenly lifted his head and asked.
Anjali was perplexed by the abrupt pause.
“I know that I can’t talk sweetly or softly to any girl. I cannot seduce women. And I have never tried, because I never found one worth trying for. You are the only one. Please forgive me.”
His apology came across like another joke, and Anjali laughed absurdly.
“Shut up, Vicky. What is left now to talk about?”
Vikram nodded and went back to his business. With each small break, Anjali’s consciousness drifted further away from her earlier objections to whatever he was doing to her.
Vikram grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge, lifting her legs over his shoulders again. Then he resumed, savouring her pussy like a long-cherished, precious dessert. However, a few seconds later, his intensity changed. He licked her hole and sucked her clit like a man possessed. Anjali soon lost her grip on herself. Within a few minutes, a wave of heat tore through her. Her knees weakened. Her whole body stiffened. She let out a broken moan as pleasure washed over her like a storm she didn’t ask for. The release melted her from within, and she trembled in the aftermath, unsure whether what filled her chest was relief, shame, or something else. She helplessly arched her body, and a cry escaped from her throat.
“Ahhh… ahh… oh… my God!”
She could feel herself melting from within, but Vikram continued to slurp it all without pause. Heat rushed to Anjali's face out of shame at having surrendered too much, yet she somehow resisted the urge to grab his hair and acknowledge what he had done to her. Her breathing was uneven, and her thighs still quivered from the force of the orgasm. A moment later, when the reality began to return, she became more aware of what had just struck her.
She pushed his head away and shifted her body upward slightly, instinctively pressing her knees together as if she could hide the evidence of her own surrender. But she had welcomed him without intending to. She had let go without meaning to.

She sat up, lowered her kurti, and continued to breathe heavily. Vikram slowly stood and gently picked up her panties from the floor to hand them to her.
“Was that your first time… something like that?” he asked, his voice tinged with satisfaction.
Anjali nodded slowly. “Yes.”
He smiled. “I’m glad I could give that to you. I hope there’s more to come.”
He stood there for two more seconds, staring at her with a smile. And then he left, not bothering to look back.

Anjali fell back onto the bed, not feeling any urgency to put on her panties again. She lay still for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Her mind drifted to memories of her intimacy with Vinayak - his slow-touches and smooth lovemaking style that had no clear beginnings or endings. He would start with a kiss and follow it with another, all while cracking jokes, telling stories, or discussing things they both found endearing. Even when he was on top of her, he never treated it like a task to be completed. He let it unfold naturally. There was no peak. There was no hurry. There was no panting rush or race to finish. There was no destination, and he had made her believe that the journey was the purpose; the destination wasn’t.
But fate had closed that chapter and now opened another for her. The shift felt so abrupt that Anjali couldn’t tell whether she was enjoying it or not.

That night, she felt drained. She didn’t sit with Madhav on the balcony. She went to bed early instead.
However, she couldn’t fall asleep as easily as she had hoped. Memories of Vinayak kept rushing back to her mind, but the dim outline of the ceiling above her kept pulling her back to the moments of the orgasm she had been unwillingly gifted by Vikram. The latter kept interrupting the tenderness of the former. No matter how much Anjali tried to calm her thoughts, she couldn’t find peace.
She longed for comfort, yet she didn’t feel strong enough to go to Madhav. She didn’t know how to ask him for what she now craved - to be taken again to the place Vikram had led her. The other day, Madhav had given her an orgasm, something she had never experienced with Vinayak. At that time, she had dismissed it as accidental. Now, realising that such pleasure could be consciously given and received, she felt an urge to tell him she had loved it. Her body desired it.
But she did not have the courage to walk into her father-in-law's bedroom and say it aloud.

[krish_999]

Chapter – Nine


Lying awake, Anjali found herself thinking about what had happened.
The memory disturbed her. She had believed she hated Vikram in that moment. Yet the pleasure he had given her was overwhelming. It was more intense than anything she had known before.
She wondered if she really hated him as much she wanted to. She was forced to ask questions to herself.
Had Vikram ever done anything wrong to her before? No. After Vinayak’s death, he had not tried to contact her or intrude into her life. Even when he had the chance to truly force himself on her, he hadn’t.
Instead, he had remained strangely calm, simply telling her what he wanted. There is sense of weirdness in him, which made him look different from Vinayak. Or anyone who's looked at Anjali with a sense of infatuation. There's desperation in Vikram, but that's not for physical intimacy. He's at the most trying to get a yes from me. He's bold in his attempts, that's it.
But the same sense of calmness he carries makes him look calculative and dangerous.
That calmness unsettled Anjali more than his boldness.
Anjali closed her eyes, uneasy with the direction of her thoughts.
Was Vikram really the man she had decided he was?
Or was she only trying to explain something her body had already accepted?
The more she thought, Anjali felt mentally exhausted. The heaviness inside her refused to lift. She felt as though the walls of the house were closing in on her. She needed air and space - distance from everything.

At breakfast, she told Madhav, “Dad, I'm planning to take a trip for a few days.”
Madhav looked at her. “A trip?”
“Yes, a solo trip. I just need some time alone. Somewhere quiet.”
He nodded before replying, “You could take someone along. It might help.”
Anjali shook her head immediately. “No. I want to be alone for a while.”
Madhav studied her face for a few seconds, as if trying to read something beneath her calm tone. Finally, he nodded.
“Alright,” he said gently. “If that’s what you need.”
Before she started planning the trip, she wanted to know something from her father. After breakfast, she phoned Manohar.
“Are you alone?” she asked.
“Yes. What happened?”
“Why did you tell Vikram?” she asked directly. “About Dad and me. About that night.”
It was the first time she had openly admitted it. Until now, even mentioning that night had felt soaked in shame. But today, the shame seemed irrelevant. The secret was no more a secret between her and her father.
“I told him nothing,” Manohar said, sounding genuinely confused. "I want you guys get married, not fight."
“He said he knows what happened between Dad and me.”
There was no reply from the other end for a few seconds. Anjali waited. Then Manohar spoke.
“Did he give you details?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then he’s guessing,” Manohar replied calmly. “Did he mention any details?” he asked again.
“No.”
“Then he’s testing you. If he sensed something unusual between you and Madhav, he may have pushed to see how you’d react.”
Anjali’s mind raced. Had she ever behaved strangely in front of Vikram? A glance? A silence? She couldn’t remember anything specific.
“Did you deny it?” Manohar asked.
She hesitated. “I didn’t confirm it.”
“That may have been enough,” he said. “Silence can sound like confession.”

Anjali felt the weight of that settle inside her. If Vikram had been bluffing...
Had she just given him the truth herself?

"And then? What did he say?" Manohar asked curiously.
"He said he still wants to marry me," Anjali said softly.
"Oh," Manohar sighed. Anjali could be feel the sense of relief in his voice. “I didn’t tell him anything, dear,” he went on. “I don't know anything. Have you done anything with Madhav in front of him?"
Anjali was stunned. "What are you saying daddy? What would I do with Dad in front of Vikram?"
"I mean... Hugging and all. Or sitting very close."
"Don't be rubbish daddy." Anjali scoffed. "Have you ever seen me doing that?"
"But I've seen you walking out of his room. You were half naked." Manohar said bitterly.
Anjali was speechless for a moment. She hated her dad for saying that again.
"Daddy..." She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. "I told you it had happened out of a momentary fall."

Even as she was saying, she remembered that she had walked into Madhav's bedroom with complete will and had sex with him. And then, another day, she had grabbed his hand and walked into her room to make love, even making him contemplate a future with her. She hated herself for having to hide it all. There was no choice other than to pretend it never happened.

"I didn't mean to hurt you again, dear," Manohar said. "Anyways, it doesn’t matter, does it? Vicky still wants to marry you. That should mean something. He’s not like others. He knows your past, your mistakes… and still, he sees a future with you. That’s rare, Anjali.”
Anjali said nothing. She rememebred the forceful kiss and intimate experience she received from Vikram in the previous weeks. The phone call was intented to know if her father was hiding somethign from her, but she ended up realising that it was her who had hidden a lot more from him.

Anjali didn’t have the patience to wait. She called Vikram. “How did you find out?” she asked without greeting. She didn't pretend to deny it anymore.
There was a pause from the other end before he replied.
“Find out what?”
“Don’t play games,” she snapped. “You said you know what happened between Dad and me. So tell me - how?”
She heard Vikram exhaling slowly. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as if to listen to his heartbeats. She felt she had to do this conversation in person.
“We’ll talk about it,” Vikram said.
“No. We’ll talk about it now.”
“Anjali,” he said calmly, “this isn’t a phone conversation.”
Her grip tightened around the mobile. “Why not?”
“Because I want to see your face when I answer.”
Anjali couldn't say anything. She suddenly felt she wasn't the one who's asking questions. She's the one who's being asked questions.
“I’ll tell you later,” he continued. “Don’t overthink. I can’t stop thinking about you, even when I’m drowning in work. I’m coming to the city for a friend’s birthday. Come with me.”
“I don’t know...”
“I’ll pick you up. I’ll drop you off. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

But she still felt better because of Manohar's denial. At least he didn't betray his daughter. she felt sorry for doubting him. That night she flet normal, having dinner at home.

That Friday evening, he arrived in a premium cab, dressed in a white linen shirt and blue chinos, looking sharp and effortlessly charming. Madhav opened the door, and to Anjali’s shock, Vikram greeted him warmly - as if nothing had ever happened between Anjali and her father-in-law. There was no contempt. No judgement.

“Evening, sir,” Vikram said casually, as Madhav nodded back.
As the men broke into a freindly conversations, Anjali felt heat rising in her cheeks. Eventually, Vikram turned to her and acknowledged. “You look gorgeous,” he said with a warm smile. Anjali blushed, unsure if she should respond.

At the party, Anjali expected the teasing, the touches, the slow creeping of intimacy that had defined their last meeting. But to her surprise, Vikram did none of that. He introduced her as a close friend, laughed with her, and treated her like a confidante - not a conquest.
When she asked about it, he smiled, “I haven’t told anyone about our plans. I’ll only speak of it once you accept it completely. Not before that.”

The respect in his tone unnerved her. It made her feel seen… and desired, not as a body, but a person. It was entirely different from the experiences she had with him when they met earlier. In all those times, they were alone.
The lights at the party shimmered above them as soft music filled the background. Vikram stood beside Anjali, holding a glass of juice, his eyes fixed on the dance floor, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

Then, out of nowhere, he turned to her and said, “It was at a birthday party like this… you broke my heart.”
Anjali looked at him, surprised.
“That evening,” he said, voice softer now, “it was a few days after you told me you were in a relationship with Vinayak. I was coping with the rejection. And then came this party.... he had come there too. That was the first time I saw you together.”

Her memory stirred. She remembered that party clearly. A lot had happened between her rejecting Vikram's proposal and accepting Vinayak's. She had fallen in love, and their relationship was just flourishing. She had even spend a couple of warm nights with Vinayak.

“You had even danced with him,” Vikram added, looking away. “I didn’t stay till the end. I couldn’t. I told my friends something silly and left the scene.”
Anjali lowered her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vick
y. I had no idea you felt that way.”
He smiled faintly. “You don’t have to apologise. You were in love with someone else. And now… you’re with me. That’s all that matters.”
Anjali looked at him, warmed by the gentleness in his voice. For a moment, she felt seen. She felt understood. And she realised how far they both had come from that distant evening.

By now, Anjali was expecting Vikram to make a move. She waited for his hand to brush her waist, for his lips to find hers in a drunken whisper. But he kept his distance.

Yet by the end of the evening, as they drove back under city lights, Anjali was battling an unexpected emotion - disappointment. She couldn’t understand it. Why had she longed for his touch? Why had her body anticipated being undressed again? Why had she worn that silky soft dress that revealed her shapes and curves perfectlyknowing exactly how easily it would turn him on? By the time he dropped her off at home, she was burning with a frustrated desire. She couldn't tell what was happening to her. She couldn't look straight into his eyes. The hunger had grown in her without warning, without invitation. Madhav received her, and after having a chat with her, he went to sleep. Anjali felt it was strange that she hadn't thought about Madhav all this evening. It was sure that Madhav wasn't who she was craving.

That night, the dark visuals of the ceiling in her room brought back memories of the other day with a vengeance. The strange sensation she had been hiding between her thighs demanded attention. While trying to find a cozy posture to fall into comfort, her hands first slipped between her thighs, and slowly sneaked inside her palazzo. She closed her eyes as if admitting defeat, and let her fingers touch the tip of her clit. The other hand's fingers went into her mouth, and she sucked on them, remembering how Vikram had sucked on her clit the other day. Her crazy mind reproduced Vikram's scent around her, and the fingers inside her panties dove further deep into her pussy. She moved it back and forth, in search of some warmth. But no matter how hard she searched for it, it wasn't working. The warmth she had felt under Vikram’s tongue, the release he had given her - her fingers couldn’t match it. She lay back, breathless and angry with herself.
What have I become? Is this how grief fades? Having waves of desire and regret?
She questioned.

Eventually, she pulled Vinayak’s photo back into her chest, held it tight, and wept.

As she lay in anger and frustration, the thought of Vinayak slowly began to take over. It struck her - how silent he had become in her memories. Once, his voice echoed in every corner of her day. But now... now it was just a whisper, fading.
She had already broken too many rules she once believed in.
No. Not anymore.
Anjali sat up and shook her head. She walked to the window and stared at her reflection in the glass. She forced herself to meet her own eyes. Tired eyes, torn - but still searching for strength.
She whispered, “This won’t happen again. I won’t let Vicky do that again. I won’t let him touch me like that again.”
Her fingers curled into a fist.
She had made a vow.

But she had no idea how determined Vikram was ,to break her resistance, to take her to his bed, and to make her cry out his name in pleasure.

[krish_999]

Chapter - ten

Ever since Anjali decided to stay away from Vikram, she had started feeling lighter in her mind. Even Vedant sensed it when she ran into him at the office the next day.

“You look cheerful today,” he said, studying her face.
“Do I?” Anjali smiled, slightly surprised.
Vedant leaned casually against the table. “Coffee today? I have some field work in the afternoon, but I’ll be free around five.”
“Okay,” she said, almost immediately.
He mentioned the name of a café, but Anjali didn’t bother to remember it. She had already decided she would go.
“Five o’clock then,” Vedant said.
“Five,” she nodded.
In the evening, before leaving the office, Anjali glanced at herself. She was wearing an orange sleeveless top with a small collar, fitted neatly around her waist, and loose matching trousers that moved softly as she walked. Her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, giving her a proper office-going appearance. It looked far from something suited for an evening date - and that, in a way, helped her stay calm about it.
As she began to gather her things, she tried to recall the name of the café Vedant had mentioned. Strangely, she couldn’t. She hadn’t paid attention when he said it.
She decided she would message him once she stepped outside the office complex.
But just as she walked out of the building, a car pulled up sharply beside her.
She turned.
It was Vikram.

He lowered the windshield.
"Leaving early?" he asked.
"Got bored at the office," she blurted without thinking.
Vikram got out of the car and came around to open the door for her. "Get in. I'm taking you out for a coffee."
Anjali hesitated for a moment, surprised and caught off guard. She felt she had little choice.
She silently got in and waited. Vikram walked around the car to get back in from the other side.
"Why didn’t you wait for Madhav?" Vikram asked as he started the car.
"He isn’t in the office today," she replied. "He might be late."
Anjali then turned to him. "Why did you come to the city?"
Vikram didn’t answer. He simply kept driving.
Meanwhile, Anjali took out her phone and sent Vedant a message.
"Sorry, I can’t make it today."
A moment later, Vedant replied with a sad emoji.
"Okay. We’ll catch up another time."
Just then, Vikram spoke. "Let’s stop somewhere. Do you have any favourite place?" he asked.
Anjali shook her head, and Vikram mentioned the name of a café.
Anjali tried to remember if it was the same café Vedant had suggested earlier. She couldn’t be sure. The thought of running into Vedant there made her uneasy.
"I don’t want to go to any café, Vicky," she said quickly. "I’d rather go home."
Vikram glanced at her briefly. "Would I be welcome there?"
Anjali thought of Shalini. She would definitely be home at this hour. And this time, Anjali was determined that nothing like the previous incident would happen again.
"Why not?" she said calmly. "I’ll ask Shalini to make coffee for you."
However, when they reached home, Shalini wasn’t there. Anjali unlocked the door and stepped in, glancing at the quiet living room. She took out her phone and dialled Shalini.
"Where are you, Shalini?" she asked.
"I’m at the hospital with my daughter," came the reply. "She wasn’t feeling well. I’ll be back around your usual return time."
"Okay, take your time," Anjali said and ended the call.
She turned to Vikram. "Looks like we have the place to ourselves for a while. Why don’t you sit down here while I make some coffee?"
She was thinking of using the time to get the truth about how Vikram had found out the secret between her and Madhav. Did he know, or was he just bluffing?
"Sounds good," Vikram said, walking in behind her. She didn’t expect him to follow her to the kitchen. For a moment, she wondered if she should ask him to sit in the living room. She knew he wouldn’t, and she didn’t ask.
In the kitchen, as the coffee brewed, Vikram stood beside her, leaning casually against the counter. They spoke about the day, the weather - small things that didn’t matter much but kept the air light.
She kept her patience until she poured the coffee into two cups and handed him one.
Then, without warning, Anjali asked, "You still haven’t told me how you found out what happened between Dad and me."
He gave her a half-smile. "Do you still call him Dad?"
Anjali couldn’t face him. She stood quietly.
He shrugged. "It’s difficult to answer, I know. Don’t worry. I just asked now because you brought up the subject. Otherwise, you know I’ve been thinking about you - a lot, actually. But it’s not what you think. I’ve been imagining places we could travel to… places we could explore together after marriage."
Her hands paused, the spoon clinking lightly against the rim of the mug. She looked at him, her expression unreadable. But his way of talking and changing the subject had a calming effect on her, as if her mind had become lighter than a moment ago. He wasn’t asking the questions he deserved to ask, she felt.
"So," she said slowly, "is this you asking me to marry you?"
Vikram chuckled, shaking his head. "Not yet. You’re not ready, remember?"
"Then what is this?"
He stepped a little closer, his voice softer now. "I was thinking… why wait? Why not travel now, just like that? As friends."
She laughed, teasing him. "You’d travel with me just as a friend?"
He took another step forward, his presence suddenly more magnetic, more intense.
"Of course," he said, his voice low and playful. "Though I’m sure we’d have a few… intimate moments. I mean, who could resist the temptations around you? I don’t know how you’re feeling about me, but… You know that I’ve been in love with you for so long, don’t you?"
Anjali felt her cheeks flush. He was standing so close now, his gaze locked with hers. A nervous flutter rose in her stomach, but she didn’t back away.
As she looked up into his eyes, her breath caught. She didn’t say a word. The sip of her coffee had left a line of foam above her lips, and she almost licked it away with her tongue.
"Don’t," Vikram said. Then he gently slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. His lips brushed hers in a slow, deliberate kiss, the foam disappearing as he kissed her.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. There was hesitation in her heart, but her body didn’t resist. She slowly lowered the coffee cup.


The kiss carried all the hunger Vikram had held back for days. His lips moved with an urgency that made Anjali forget every promise she had made to herself the night before. She melted into him, her breath mingling with his, letting him draw her in, responding to his rhythm.
Vikram turned her swiftly, pressing her back against the cold granite of the kitchen counter. His mouth moved with growing intensity now - from her lips to her neck, then lower - trailing heat wherever he kissed. Anjali gasped, her breaths sharp and uneven. She didn’t raise a hand to stop him. She didn’t want to.
His voice came in a low murmur, rough with desire.
"I want to taste you again, Anjali," he said, his fingers brushing along her waist.
Anjali stiffened slightly, the memory of that other day rushing back to her with a mix of guilt and pleasure. She knew this was spiralling fast. But instead of pulling away, she looked down at him - flushed, breathing hard - and whispered,
"In the kitchen?"
Vikram chuckled softly and shook his head.
"Of course not," he said, his voice playful but thick with desire.
He reached behind her and, without warning, scooped her into his arms. Anjali let out a small gasp, startled, but didn’t resist. His grip was firm and secure, and the way he looked at her made her heart flutter. She knew she had a slim figure, and he had a strong build, but the ease with which he lifted her made her feel weightless in his arms. She was ashamed of the enthrallment she felt, despite all the premeditated hatred she had held toward Vikram.

He carried her to her bedroom with quiet urgency. Anjali looked on as he laid her gently on the bed, her breath caught somewhere between hesitation and surrender.
Before she could speak, he slid his hands down, and in one swift motion, he reached under her top, grabbed the waistband of her trousers, and pulled them down. Anjali’s mind barely had a moment to register what was happening. There was no time to think, no space for guilt or restraint. Vikram had already freed her legs from the trousers and her panties, settled himself between her thighs, gently and reverently spreading them - and then his mouth found her.
Anjali felt a wave of goosebumps take over her body. She could suddenly remember how much she had been longing for this, unknowingly.
Anjali gasped, her body arching as his tongue traced over her with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Vicky..." she breathed, barely above a whisper, her voice trembling with need.
His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her open, while his tongue moved expertly over her soft folds, teasing and tasting her with aching precision. Anjali clutched at the bed sheet, then his hair, unable to stay still. Her hips moved instinctively, seeking more.
Soft moans escaped her lips, then grew louder as waves of pleasure started building inside her.
"Oh God... Vicky..." she whimpered, gripping his hair tighter.
Her inhibitions were slipping fast, drowned in the rhythm of his tongue and the deep, raw ache he was stirring inside her.
Anjali’s body quivered as the climax surged through her. This time, there was no pause to acknowledge the surprise. She probably knew it was due and that it would come. Her back arched, her fingers still tangled in his hair, and then she fell back onto the bed with a trembling sigh, her limbs slack and her breath shallow. It felt as though her soul had momentarily left her body and was slowly floating back in.

She lay there still, eyes closed, a faint smile curving her lips, as if caught in some beautiful trance.
Vikram shifted up beside her, his breath warm against her shoulder. He looked at her, his eyes filled with amusement and curiosity.
"Has Vinayak ever gone down on you?" he asked casually, as if picking up a conversation in the middle of something utterly ordinary.
Anjali opened her eyes slowly and turned her head to look at him. Her cheeks colored with a blush, but she didn’t look away.
"He tried once," she admitted, her voice soft. "But he said he didn’t like the taste… and never did it again."
Vikram chuckled under his breath, clearly surprised.
"That’s strange," he said. "Because you taste amazing. Honestly, I could stay between your legs for hours."
Anjali blinked at him, her lips parting in mild surprise.
"Really?"
"Mmm," he nodded, brushing a finger along her thigh. "And you know what’s even more thrilling? The taste changes when you’re turned on."
She raised herself slightly on her elbows, her curiosity piqued.
"Come on. Nothing like that!" she said, almost incredulous.
Vikram grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction.
"Yes," he said. "At first, it’s kind of plain, warm… clean. But as you start getting aroused, it becomes tangy - like your body is preparing, craving. That change… it drives me wild."
Anjali stared at him, trying to process this new, intimate truth about her own body - something she had never known, never even imagined.
"I had no idea," she said quietly, the trance slowly turning into something deeper - a feeling of being seen and desired in a way she never had before.
Anjali turned her head slightly, her expression a blend of curiosity and amusement.
"So… you know when I get excited?" she asked, her voice low, almost playful.
Vikram leaned on one elbow beside her, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile.
"Yes," he replied simply. "That’s why last time, when you were trying to stop me… I didn’t. From your taste, I knew you were enjoying it. That’s how I could tell. If you genuinely wanted me to stop, your body wouldn’t have responded like that. And I would have stopped, Anjali. I promise you that."
Her expression softened. A sense of quiet relief settled over her.
"Good to know you weren’t forcing me that day," she said sarcastically.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Anjali, I’ll never force you to do anything. Ever."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with something deeper now - a question she had perhaps wanted to ask but never dared until now.
"But… how is it that you’re satisfied even when only I climax?"
Vikram tilted his head slightly and let out a slow breath.
"I’m not satisfied physically," he admitted. "But I’m content knowing you’re happy. That’s mental satisfaction… and sometimes, it’s even more important."
Anjali’s gaze lingered on him, searching.
"So… are you satisfied now, mentally?"
He smiled again, but this time with mischief in his eyes.
"Not yet."
She raised an eyebrow, smiling despite herself.
"Then?"
"We have time, don’t we?" he asked, his voice lowering.
She looked toward the wall clock.
"Madhav could come back any moment."
"Not at his usual time," he said, then added, "But still, we’d better hurry," he whispered.
Anjali felt a small jolt of excitement rush through her. His tone, the glint in his eye - she could sense he wasn’t done yet. There was more. Her curiosity rose.
"What’s on your mind?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Vikram didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her softly between her legs, sending a shiver through her. She gasped as he pulled back, leaving her skin tingling. Then he sat her up gently and brought his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. His hands moved to her top, and he slowly peeled it off, revealing her bare breasts. He kissed around them tenderly, taking his time.

Then, he looked up, eyes brimming with emotion.
"I love you, Anjali," he said. "These moments… I’ve dreamt of them for so long. Just to hold you like this. I’m not here because my fate placed me here. I’m here because I deserve to be. I’ve loved you… deeply. Sometimes I feel you shouldn’t have married him, because I deserved you more. I was just late. And it was my mistake that I couldn’t convince you back then."
Anjali's breath caught. His words pierced through layers of time and memory. And for a moment, she forgot the world beyond the walls of that room.
Anjali was blown away by his words. As Vikram unbuttoned his pants and pulled himself free, her eyes locked onto him. She blinked, startled by the dark shade - darker than she remembered with Vinayak. There was something unfamiliar about it, something that made her hesitate.
But when Vikram brushed her hair back, his hand resting lightly behind her ear, her body moved on its own. She leaned forward, her breath warm and unsure, lips parting as instinct took over, taking him in.
“Oh... so warm. So good, my love,” he sighed. Anjali's mouth was filled with his length. Yet she continued to move, letting it go in until it almost touched the back of her throat. She felt the warmth on her tongue as it brushed the underside of his length, and she felt it grow with each of her movements. For the next few minutes, Anjali moved rhythmically, back and forth, adjusting to his girth. Eventually, fatigue set in; her neck began to ache. She pulled back and looked up.
“It’s hurting my neck, Vicky,” she said apologetically.
“Shall I help?” Vikram asked, holding her head gently as he began to move his hips, quickening the rhythm. The tip of his length occasionally nudged the back of her throat, making her gag.
“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well,” he murmured, lost in the pleasure of her mouth.
“Seems like Vinayak didn’t give you much practice at this,” he added with a teasing smirk, pulling out for a moment.
“He used to be... soft,” Anjali said, panting as she wiped the trail of saliva from her lips.
“Don’t wipe it, baby. It looks good,” Vikram said, watching her.
“I’d look nasty.”
“Yes,” he grinned, “nasty is hot - when we’re in bed, isn’t it?”
He gave her cheek a light slap. She blinked, startled, though it didn’t hurt.
He thrust himself back into her mouth, his intensity only growing. Anjali struggled to match his pace, but she yielded, letting him lead as her saliva spilt from the corners of her lips.

“So good, Anjali. So nasty, my girl. You’re my little bitch, aren’t you? You want to be my little bitch, right? You want me to cum, don’t you?”
He kept saying, his voice thick with desire, and pulled himself out just as he asked the last question.
Anjali panted heavily, her breath catching as she gagged again.
“Aahhh…”
“Come on, baby. You can’t take any more now. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, then kissed her mouth fiercely, tasting her, before pushing her down onto the bed.
Anjali fell back across the bed, panting heavily to catch her breath. Vikram climbed up, planted one knee at the edge, and lowered himself between her legs. The next thing she felt was his length pushing into her, filling every inch of her, leaving her breathless and unable to protest.
“Oh, so tight,” he groaned. “Feels like a virgin, baby.”
Vikram said in excitement as he thrust deeper into her.
Anjali could only moan in response.
“How often does he fuck you, baby?”
The question stunned her.
“What?” she gasped.
“Madhav. Your father-in-law. How often do you give it to him?”
Anjali couldn’t quite register what she felt in that moment. A part of her recoiled in shame - she felt stripped of her dignity, reduced to something far lesser. And yet, deep inside, she wondered if she still had the right to feel offended.
Vikram had begun to move his hips, each thrust making it harder for her to think straight.
“Damn... fuck, you’re such tight fun. He didn’t get it the way I am - no way you gave him as much as you're giving me,” Vikram muttered, his voice thick with lust.
“Vicky... aaahh,” Anjali moaned. “I’ve just had it... aaa... once. It was... just... aaa... accidental... aaa... it happened... aaah…”
“Just once? Oh God,” Vikram grinned, a wave of satisfaction spreading across his face. “That’s so bad... but the old man can still feel lucky, huh? Because you’re such a sweet little bitch. Do you like me, baby? Do you like it when it moves like this, huh?”
He slowed down deliberately, drawing himself all the way out before pushing back in, his voice teasing, his rhythm steady.
“Mmm...” Anjali could barely form a word, her body trembling beneath him.
He grabbed her breasts and began thrusting with more intention. Anjali felt the strength of his palms pressing into her softness, the sensation sending ripples through her body. At the same time, she sensed another orgasm rising, swelling inside her.
“Aaah... Vicky... please... aah... slow...” she almost cried out, her voice breaking.
“Oh, you’re coming again, bitch, aren’t you?” he growled, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
He asked, then suddenly slapped her face - without force, more like a taunt. But his next move came harder; he struck her left breast with his left hand, sharp enough to sting. Yet, she was far beyond pain.
“Aaah...” was all she could cry out, her voice cracking as another wave surged through her. It flooded her insides, overwhelming her in ways she couldn't comprehend.
“Oh my God... what... is this... Vicky... my God...” she gasped, trembling with disbelief and pleasure.
“You little bitch. Yes, come for me, baby. You fucked your daddy, but you deserved this - someone like me. Oh my God... you’re such a filthy little dream.” Vikram grunted as he thrust deeper. “Tell me, honey, do you want me to cum inside you?”
Anjali was slipping into a trance again, her second orgasm flooding through her like a wave that dulled everything else. But his last question cut through the haze, snapping her senses back into focus.
“Oh, Vicky... no…” she barely managed to say.
But Vikram had already pulled out and stood up.
“Okay then, get up, my girl,” he said, grabbing her arm and lifting her to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Open your mouth. I’m so close.”
Without waiting, he pushed his throbbing length past her lips and gave a single stroke. The next moment, Anjali gasped as a thick stream hit the back of her throat. He pulled out, holding himself in front of her, and the next spurt splashed across her lips and chin.
"Swallow it, baby. You'll love it. Drink it for me, sweety... haaah,"
Vikram said and jerked again. Anjali had already swallowed what had slid down her throat, and Vikram watched her with deep satisfaction.
He held her under the chin and pressed his fingers on either side of her mouth to open it again, then brought his length back between her lips.
“A little more. Drink it, baby. It’s all of me… it’s for you… just for you…”
Anjali couldn’t do anything but obey. She felt the warm fluid spread across her tongue and quickly swallowed it, trying to rid herself of the sensation. Yet, Vikram still pushed himself back into her mouth.
“Lick it clean, baby. You did great. Just awesome, my girl.”

Anjali obeyed like a machine under his control. The surreal haze of two back-to-back orgasms had faded, and now she felt like she had been used. But something deep inside her had shifted - so much had moved beneath her feet that she could hardly find a place to stand or think straight. She sucked him clean, then wiped her mouth and face with her own trousers. His thick fluid had left her skin sticky, and she felt a wave of disgust. But this - this was her reality now.
At one end, there lingered the aftermath of orgasmic waves - sensations unlike anything she had felt before. At the other, a heavy feeling of being used like a cheap object in bed. She couldn’t tell which feeling weighed more.

“Go clean yourself,” Vikram said as he pulled his pants back on.
Anjali wobbled into the washroom, fighting the urge to stand under the shower and let everything wash away. Instead, she picked up the hand-held shower head and rinsed her body. She washed her face too, carefully.
When she re-entered the room, Vikram was seated on the sofa, perfectly dressed. Anjali felt a flash of shyness - she stood naked, like a newborn - but she managed to stay composed.
There was nothing left to hide. All of her had already been laid bare.
She opened her wardrobe, took out some clothes, and quickly got dressed.
“You have such a great body. I’m so lucky,”
Vikram said, stepping up behind her.
She turned to face him.
“You must leave, Vicky,”
She said in a tired voice.
“Of course. I’m leaving,” he replied, placing a quick peck on her cheek.
“Love you. Bye.”
“Bye, Vicky.”
Vikram walked out of the room first, and Anjali followed behind.
And then they stopped - frozen - shocked to find a man sitting silently on the large sofa in the hall.
It was Madhav.

[krish_999]

Dear Krish, I trust you are well.

You had indicated that the update would be provided on 24th March; may I kindly request a status update at your earliest convenience? I remain in eager anticipation of your response.

Yeah, I meant it bro :)
And thanks for the comment. It was equally awaited.

[krish_999]

Guys, chapter 11 is longer than usual. I don't think I'm gonna finish it today. So I will take another day, and tomorrow I will post.
Apologies for the delay, and thank you for waiting.