[heygiwriter]

Chapter 11: Jeeva stays with Anandhi. 


“Yes,” Suriya said, voice dropping lower. “I am. Her husband is my friend. He may be away, but she’s got a husband. I’m taking care of her. Got the message? Now go.”
The words landed like a slap.
Taking care of her.

Jeeva’s blood surged hot. The double meaning sliced through him—protective neighbor… or something more?

The chemical storm inside him flared; his cock twitched hard against his jeans, sudden and painful, thickening in seconds at the thought of Suriya near Anandhi. He fought it down, nails digging into his palms.

“You don’t know me,” Jeeva said, voice low and dangerous. “And you don’t know what I’m here for.”

Suriya’s eyes narrowed further. “I know men like you. 
Young, cocky, thinking a pretty woman alone is easy prey. She’s not. Walk away.”
Jeeva opened his mouth to snap back—then froze.

Footsteps. Light, familiar, coming up the stairs.

Anandhi appeared at the top of the landing.

She carried a small cloth bag of vegetables in one hand, textbook tucked under her arm, cream saree with faint gold trim swaying gently with each step. Riya and Rohan bounded at her sides—college bags bouncing, Riya clutching a drawing, Rohan kicking a pebble along the floor. Anandhi’s fair white skin caught the dim corridor light like polished marble; black hair pinned in a tight, practical bun with a few rebellious strands escaping to frame her face. The saree pallu had slipped slightly on the climb, exposing the soft curve of her waist and the gentle swell of her hip. Her 34D bust rose and fell with each breath, straining gently against the blouse, nipples faintly outlined under the thin fabric from the evening humidity.

Her eyes lifted—and locked on Jeeva.
For one heartbeat, the world stopped.

Her breath caught visibly. The bag trembled in her grip. The textbook slipped an inch.
“Rahul…?”

The name escaped her lips in a whisper—soft, disbelieving, full of old love and sudden pain.
Jeeva’s heart slammed against his ribs. His cock surged again—throbbing painfully against the denim, head slick and straining, the chemical sensitivity making every pulse feel like a fist around him. 
He couldn’t breathe.

Anandhi’s eyes shimmered. She took one step forward, then another—slow, as if afraid he would vanish.
“My Rahul…”

Her voice cracked on the last word.
Riya and Rohan froze mid-step, staring at the tall stranger who looked so much like the father they barely remembered.

Suriya’s head snapped toward her. “Anandhi, you know this guy?”
She didn’t answer. Her gaze stayed glued to Jeeva—wide, wet, searching.

Jeeva swallowed hard. His voice came out rough, younger, unfamiliar even to himself.
“I’m… Jeeva.”

Her hand froze mid-air, fingers trembling as if to touch his cheek.
Suriya stepped forward, voice sharp. “Anandhi—”

“How…?” Anandhi whispered, eyes never leaving Jeeva’s face. “How come you look same like Rahul… are you his some sort of secret son?”

Jeeva laughed—short, easy, practiced. “Many would doubt. You know Selvaraj—Rahul’s father’s brother? Even grandfather had this face resemblance. Chin broader on some, eyes shorter or longer on others… not much difference. See for yourself.”


He pulled out his phone, thumbed open a photo he’d AI-edited earlier—old family pictures stitched together, faces blurred just enough to sell the lie. Most looked eerily similar: same jawline, same intense eyes, same height. He held it out.

Anandhi leaned in, breath catching as she scanned the screen. Her fingers brushed his as she took the phone—warm, trembling. Jeeva’s cock jerked violently in his jeans, pre-cum soaking through in a sudden rush. He clenched his jaw to keep from groaning.

She looked up, eyes shining. “It’s… uncanny.”

Jeeva shrugged. “Family genes. I can explain more, but… would you mind if a guest stands in the corridor forever?”
Anandhi blinked, cheeks flushing. “Sorry—come in. Please.”

She turned without another word, unlocking the door with shaking hands. She didn’t even glance at Suriya. Her mind was fully occupied by the impossible resemblance, the ghost of Rahul standing in her doorway.

Suriya’s face darkened. He stepped forward. “Anandhi, I thought he was some rowdy or rough trying to hit on you—a lone woman—so I warned him.”

She paused, half-turning. “That’s okay, sir.”

The words were polite, distant. She didn’t look at him. Her eyes flicked back to Jeeva—soft, searching, almost hungry.
“Come in,” she said again, voice warm, inviting, pulling the door wide.

Jeeva shot Suriya one last cold glance—lips curling into a wicked, private smile.
“She didn’t even look at him. ‘Taking care’—my foot.”

He stepped past the threshold.

The door shut with a soft thud.

Inside, the aroma of cumin and turmeric wafted from the kitchen. The small flat felt exactly as he remembered—walls faded yellow, worn sofa, kids’ drawings pinned to the wall. Riya and Rohan dumped their bags and ran to the sofa, giggling.
Anandhi turned to Jeeva. “You look exactly like my Rahul.”
Her words washed over him—a balm to a mind scarred by betrayal. Relief surged, sudden and sharp.

“She’s pure. Dedicated. No boundaries crossed.”

He pulled out a small packet of sweets—ghee-soaked laddoos—and plastic toys he’d grabbed last-minute: cars for Rohan, a doll for Riya. The kids squealed, tearing wrappers, laughter bouncing off the walls.

Anandhi sat on the sofa edge, saree rustling. “Tell me.”
The lies flowed smoothly.

“I’m a relative—distant cousin. I ran away from home because they tried to force me into a marriage with some wealthy girl. I’m waiting for admission to a foreign university. Once it comes, I’ll leave.”

Her eyes softened. A faint blush crept up her neck as she looked at his face. “You’ve got his spark.”

Jeeva teased, voice low. “Don’t look at me like that. A woman gazing at a man like that means trouble.”

She laughed—soft, genuine. “You’ve got his face. How can’t I blush?”

Then she sobered. “But… don’t see me as sister-in-law. See me as a real sister. Issue fixed.”

Her smile held—trust pure, unguarded.

Then the important question came.

“Ever since your family threw us out, no one contacted us. How did you find the address? And… it’s been a week since Rahul picked up my call. I’m worried.”

Jeeva leaned forward, voice gentle.

“Everyone’s searching for me—my family knows they cut ties with Rahul, so naturally they won’t look here. That’s why I came. I have some cash I earned myself. If you need it, take it. Just give me a few months’ stay.”

Anandhi playfully swatted his hand. “More than money, a relative here is what feels earned. Stay as long as you need. Your brother didn’t stay here long—he sacrificed himself for the family. At least I’ll see your face and get some relaxation.”

The words hit like a punch.

Jeeva felt the pain twist deep. He badly wanted to reveal himself—right then, right there. Pull her into his arms, tell her everything, end the charade.

But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He wasn’t sure of anything. Suriya’s claim—“I’m taking care of her”—still gnawed at him. The chemical storm still raged inside. Doubt still whispered.

Night fell.

He played with Riya and Rohan—plastic cars zoomed across the scratched wooden floor, dolls danced. Laughter bounced off cracked walls.

Anandhi emerged from the kitchen in comfort nightwear—a loose kurta that clung tight across her chest. The 34D breast pressed hard against the fabric, nipples faintly visible through the thin cotton, curves singing with every movement as she readied his bed—sheets smoothed, pillow fluffed.


Kids barged back—play stretched until 11 PM. They slumped asleep. Anandhi carried them—one by one—Riya’s arms dangling, Rohan’s head lolling. The kurta stretched tight as she bent, outlining every curve.

Jeeva watched.

“What assets—lips, boobs, shape, ass—who wouldn’t crave her?”
He grinned darkly. “Her fault—born gorgeous.”

Then he sank onto the guest cot.


Sleep came fast, heavy, pulling him under like black water.



He was back in the flat — the same faded yellow walls, the same scratched wooden floor, the same slow ceiling fan stirring warm air. But the light felt wrong — too golden, too soft, like candle flame instead of tube light. The air smelled stronger — cumin, turmeric, jasmine from her hair oil, and underneath it all, the musky, intimate scent of skin and anticipation.

Jeeva stood in the shadowed corner near the kitchen doorway, unseen, frozen. He tried to move — limbs locked. Tried to shout — throat sealed. All he could do was watch.
The front door creaked open — barely a whisper.
Suriya slipped inside.
He moved like a thief — silent, deliberate, six-foot-two of gym-carved muscle filling the space. Tight black T-shirt already half-soaked with sweat, clinging to every ridge of his six-pack, shorts riding low on powerful hips. His fair skin gleamed under the low lamp light, veins standing out on thick forearms. His dark eyes were hungry, locked on the bedroom door.
Anandhi lay in bed.
She was asleep — or appeared to be — lying on her side under a thin sheet, comfort nightwear slightly rumpled, one arm dbangd over the pillow. Her fair skin glowed in the dim light, black hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink, 34D breasts rising and falling with slow, even breaths, nipples faintly outlined through the thin cotton.
Suriya paused at the doorway — watching her for a long moment. Then he moved.
He crossed the room silently. Kneeled beside the bed. His large hands reached out — fingers hooking the hem of her nighty, slowly lifting it up her stomach. The fabric dragged over her skin — exposing the soft curve of her waist, the gentle swell of her lower belly, then higher — until her heavy breasts spilled free. Dark nipples stiffened instantly in the cool air, peaking hard as if begging for touch.

Jeeva’s chest locked. He wanted to scream — to lung to warn her. Nothing came out. His body wouldn’t obey.


Suriya’s hands moved lower — tugging the pants down her thighs. Anandhi’s legs parted slightly in sleep (or feigned sleep), exposing the soft mound between them — panties already darkened at the center. He peeled them aside slowly — revealing glistening folds, swollen clit peeking out.

Jeeva’s cock jerked violently in his jeans — throbbing painfully, pre-cum soaking through the denim in a sudden rush. Shame and rage warred inside him.

Suriya stood — unzipping. His cock sprang free — thick, veined, heavy, head already slick. He stroked himself once — slow, deliberate — then climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs. His muscular back blocked Jeeva’s view almost completely — broad shoulders, rippling lats, powerful ass flexing as he positioned himself.

Jeeva strained — desperate to see — but Suriya’s nude body filled the frame, blocking everything except glimpses: Anandhi’s suddenly woke up 

Made Suriya getting Shocked. 

her voice began.
“I’m not sleeping im just acting… to see what you’re up to.”
Clear. Calm. Amused.

Suriya laughed — low, triumphant.
So you are in 

Anandhi sat up slowly — pushing Suriya back with surprising strength. She stood — completely nude now — nightwear discarded on the floor. Her body was breathtaking — 34D breasts full and heavy, nipples dark and stiff, waist narrowing to wide hips, thick thighs framing the glistening wetness between them. She walked straight toward Jeeva in the corner.

He couldn’t move.

She stopped inches away — close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her skin, smell the jasmine and arousal on her.
“Rahul,” she said softly, eyes mocking. “You leaked just seeing us together? We’re just nude… we haven’t even started yet. How come? So weak?”

Jeeva tried to speak im not weak now im with superior power, i will do twice the effect of suriya he wanted to say this but — mouth wouldn’t open. His cock strained painfully against his jeans — head slick, throbbing so hard it hurt. A wet spot spread visibly on the denim.

Suriya appeared behind her — naked, cock still hard, smirking over her shoulder.

Something striked, she called him Rahul and Suriya didnt seemed shocked so is Anandhi 

“You know me,” Jeeva finally forced out, voice cracking. “I’m Rahul…”

Anandhi laughed — soft, cruel. “Yes… we know.”
Suriya’s hand slid around her waist — possessive — cupping one heavy breast, thumb flicking the stiff nipple. Anandhi leaned back into him, eyes never leaving Jeeva’s.

“You loser,” Suriya said.
Anandhi looked down — mocking — at the obvious bulge in Jeeva’s jeans, the dark wet patch spreading.

“Rahul… you’re done.”
She reached out — fingers brushing the front of his jeans, right over the throbbing head.

In a rage, Rahul kicked on Suriya, and a fight appears and Anandhi pushed Jeeva aka Rahul on cot.

Jeeva jolted awake. 

ITS A DREAM 

Cot empty. Flat dark. Fan still spinning slow.

Sweat soaked his shirt. His cock stood painfully hard against his jeans — throbbing, leaking — and he realized with a sick lurch that he had already come. Thick, hot cum had soaked through the denim in several pulses — sticky against his thigh, the musky scent filling the small room.

He sat up, breathing ragged, hand instinctively gripping his still-hard shaft through the wet fabric — one squeeze sending a shudder through him.
“Bad dream,” he told himself.

He was confused why off late he had been so turned on, sexually, his mood is too on, he is always horny, always getting horny erections.. He wanted to speak about this to Madhavan, after the transformation he is always horny.. he know this dreams are after math of incidents he saw or he suspect and chemical reactions.  

He knows Anandhi is not cheating and pure, thought its early he still needs to check more stay with her test her fidelity .. 
But Suriya’s words still gnawed.
“I take care of her.”

Doubt crept deeper.

Was it just a dream… or a glimpse of something already happening?
Eighty-seven days burned.

Soon he would test her.
Soon he would find out how real that mocking smile had been.
He decided to watch them more carefully, following Suriya going to be his top priority now. 

[heygiwriter]

Dream Sequence

[heygiwriter]

Hope the story is going good. 
A small break before next update.


Let me hear your guesses

1. Why did Anandhi hides the molestation by sam with Rahul 
2. Anandhi Consciously know she was kind of molested in Annual day why she didnt confront John & why she hides it again from Rahul
3. Rahul's doubt is genuine, he is practically out of reachable distance, like in Mumbai, A single women cannot be able to defend so many lechers like Sam John, how did she managed? does she has someone she relied on to stop them?
4. If so who could it be?
5. Do you think Anandhi would have cheated already? 
6. Why did Surya said "i take care of her"?
7. One Solid Guess where its leading to?

[heygiwriter]

Wow ! Such a fantastic read. Tightly written & highly entertaining. Can't wait to find out what is going to happen next. I have to say it .. You are a master story-weaver.

Thanks Brother

[heygiwriter]

This story reads like a thriller. I’m curious what do you actually do? Are you a full time writer? It honestly feels like something from another novel.

At first, I thought she was a cheater. But after the twist, I actually wanted to believe her. At the same time, the doubts he had were exactly what I was thinking too. I almost felt like I was Rahul/Jeeva while reading it.

You’re really good at capturing human thoughts and emotions. Well done.

Thanks Brother :)

[heygiwriter]

My guesses for 1 & 2 are practically the same. 
Maybe she feared their friendship or relationship could break, so she avoided telling Rahul.



3.At this moment, I feel there might be someone else like a secret lover. He might have taken care of those people who lusted after her.

4. Not sure who it could be. Could not see any hint of it. Maybe the politician who was kept in the dark in the earlier parts of the story. Surya’s chances seem less.

5.It’s 50–50. But given the intensity of things, it feels like she might have had some serious affair outside.

6.Surya might just be showing off.

7. My guess is that the story is going to unmask and unveil all the hidden secrets. Most probably, Rahul will catch her secret lover and punish her.


But I feel like you’re going to give us a twist and lead us somewhere completely different. I read your story title again, and now I’m confused all over again haha.

:) Im just curious to know what people would have been playing in their mind. It can help me meet the expectations :) and yours is interesting guess.

[heygiwriter]

1 & 2. Maybe it is the person she already thought that would make a move on her and she herself got carried away in that moment.
3. Maybe she just gave in a little (flirting) and stalled them, kept them hanging or waiting.
4. It could be one among the three friends.
5. Yes definitely.
6. The words have no sexual context to it. It is just the situation that it is persumed.
7. Anandhi is involved with not one but two men.
Apologies if my guesses are lame and irrelevant.
Eagerly waiting for the coming chapters.
Thank you.

Cool one :) This has more erotic sideling :)

[heygiwriter]

Nice story bro

Thanks

[heygiwriter]

My guess is she is not at all cheating. It was insecurity of Rahul/Jeeva causing this a seed planted by Sam and ai videos. About molestation She might have her own reasons to hide it from Rahul may be she doesnt want to bother Rahul who is in mumbai. For no 6 . Suriya and Anandhi might have a history even before college days college love may be? 7. Im sure Rahul/Jeeva will witness Anandhi's affair very soon.

interesting guess

[heygiwriter]

I also felt same
But about #7, I think Anandhi too have feelings. She may have avoided other people but will give in when Jeeva advances, he is literally younger version of her husband. Technically this may not be even cheating but it will increase doubts in Jeeva.
About title - 1 Women, 2 Desires I think she will love Rahul but also desire Jeeva at same time. It's her way for compensating the lost years of youth. Anandhi also suffered, lost her prime alone without husband.

Nice guess. one of your guess is closer.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 12: The Chemical Storm & The Villa Window


Jeeva woke with a violent start, sweat slicking his chest, cock already rock-hard and throbbing against the thin sheet. The dream still burned behind his eyes — Suriya sneaking in, undressing Anandhi, her heavy breasts spilling free, dark nipples stiffening in the cool air, her soft mound glistening as panties were peeled aside. Even now, just the memory made his shaft twitch painfully, a thick bead of pre-cum leaking from the flushed head and soaking into the fabric.

He sat up fast, eyes blurry, heart pounding. The chemical storm was worse today. Every slight thought, every faint sound from the bathroom (Anandhi bathing), every imagined curve of her body sent blood rushing straight to his cock. It stood straight up, veins pulsing visibly, head slick and angry red, sensitivity so high that even the sheet brushing against it felt like a teasing tongue.

He couldn’t live like this.

Jeeva grabbed the phone Madhavan had given him and dialed. The call connected on the second ring.


“Jeeva,” Madhavan answered, voice calm and slightly amused. “You sound… urgent.”

“I am,” Jeeva growled, voice rough. “I can’t focus. I’m hard all the time. Every thought, every dream (He explained it fully)

He continued. 
Even the sound of water running — it won’t go down. I leaked in my sleep again last night. This isn’t normal. Do something fix this.. please.”



Madhavan was quiet for a beat, then spoke with clinical precision.

“The reversal amplified your endocrine system. Testosterone nearly doubled, nerve sensitivity tripled in the genital area. It’s an expected side-effect. The body is in permanent prime mode. 

Your mind links every suspicion about your wife to raw lust. That’s why the dreams feel so real. That’s why even thinking about her makes you throb.”

Jeeva’s free hand unconsciously pressed against the bulge in his boxers. The pressure made his cock jerk, another thick strand of pre-cum oozing out and sliding down the shaft.

“So what do I do?” he asked, voice strained.

“Come for a quick test,” Madhavan said. 

“I’ll catch the next flight to the nearby town — two hours from you. Meet me at the my friends lab tomorrow at 2 PM. We’ll run a hormone panel and see how bad it is.”

Jeeva shouted no way i need now. test me now

Madhavan said are you mad, do you think im sitting simply dont i have work around 

Jeeava said i dnont now im your experimentation rememebred that 

Madhavan gasped and said okay agreed he said he will come immediately . without hesitation.

I will reach your my friends lab in 4 hours, take a cab now and come to that place you will take 2 hours, tell him your are in for test. I will reach before results arrived. my flight will be in an hour from now. 


He slipped out of the flat quietly — Anandhi was still in the bathroom, kids asleep. He took an cab to the Madhavan's friends lab on the edge of the next town.

He didnt inform Anandhi, he just went without telling

Madhavan arrived exactly on time, lab coat crisp, small portable scanner in hand.


The test was quick — blood draw, quick scan, a few questions.

Madhavan studied the results, then looked up.

“It’s the reversal. Hormones are doubled. Sensitivity is off the charts. It won’t kill you, but it will stay intense for 10 to 15 days. After that, your body will stabilize.”

Jeeva’s jaw tightened. “Ten to fifteen days? I can’t function like this.”

Madhavan’s smile was almost sympathetic.

“You can’t fight it. The more you suppress, the worse the pressure builds. Fantasize. Masturbate. Ease the load whenever the urge hits. Your body needs the release.

Especially when thoughts of your wife come — let them. Its not wrong, its just your bodies reaction to the hormones, you will remain a filthiest person. But once you release you will feel ease. 

It’s the only way to stay clear-headed for whatever you’re doing in that town.” Any way i wont prescribe any medicine it will worse it .

Jeeva left the lab with the words ringing in his ears.
Ten to fifteen days of this insanity.

He would have to live with the constant, aching hardness. With the way every thought of Anandhi now made his cock surge. With the dreams. With the suspicion. and he needs to release on it thinking the same. shit. 

It's almost 4Pm when he arrived the town, when his cab crossed the Anandhi’s college. To his surprise, she was already leaving — early — walking alone toward the main road, cream saree swaying, textbook under her arm.

Jeeva told the driver to stop. He paid and followed on foot, keeping distance, heart pounding.

She didn’t go home.

She turned down a quiet lane and entered a big individual garden villa — high walls, lush greenery, a single large house tucked inside. The gate was slightly ajar. No one else was around.

Jeeva’s pulse spiked. He jumped the compound wall silently, landing in soft grass. He crept closer to the nearest window, heart hammering, cock already twitching again at the mere possibility.

From inside came soft sounds.
“Ahhh… ahhh…”

Breathy, feminine, unmistakable.

Jeeva’s hand moved on its own — the chemical reaction took over. He unzipped, pulled out his cock. It sprang free, thick and heavy, head slick and flushed deep red, already leaking in thick strands. He wrapped his fist around it without thinking, the sensitivity making him groan low in his throat.

His mind filled with the worst images. He confirmed without looking at the actual images, she is cheating, cheating bitch. My Wife, Anandhi inside. Getting fucked. 

Then the thin curtain shifted slightly in the breeze.
but The visuals hit him.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 13: The Villa Window – The Truth Behind


Jeeva’s heart hammered against his ribs as he crouched low behind the thick bougainvillea hedge surrounding the villa garden. The high compound wall had been easy to scale — his new body moved with effortless power — but now every nerve was on fire. The chemical storm still raged inside him; the slightest rustle of leaves against his skin sent blood rushing straight to his cock. It stood painfully hard in his jeans, head slick and throbbing, pre-cum already leaking in thick strands and soaking the denim in a dark, spreading patch.

The “ahhh… ahhh…” sounds drifted through the open window again — breathy, rhythmic, unmistakably feminine. Each soft cry hit him like a punch to the gut. His mind flooded with the worst images: Anandhi inside, saree hiked to her waist, legs spread on a bed while some hidden lover thrust into her, her moans filling the room exactly like in the AI videos. 

His hand moved on its own — unzipping, pulling out his cock. It sprang free, thick and heavy, veins pulsing visibly, head flushed deep red and glistening. He wrapped his fist around it without conscious thought — the sensitivity was insane, every ridge of his fingers sending electric sparks straight to his balls.


He stroked once — slow, desperate — a low groan escaping his throat.
Pre-cum coated his palm, making wet, obscene sounds that mixed with the moans from inside.
He edged closer to the window, heart in his throat, cock throbbing harder with every step.

The thin lace curtain shifted slightly in the breeze — just enough.
The visual hit him like cold water.

Anandhi was not on a bed.

She was kneeling on the floor of a spacious, sunlit physiotherapy room — cream saree neatly tucked, pallu pinned securely over her shoulder. In front of her sat an elderly woman — late 60s, frail, silver-haired, seated in a wheelchair. The woman’s legs were thin and motionless — bone function issue, paralysis from the waist down, as Anandhi had once mentioned in passing years ago. Retired headmistress of the college, a kind but strict woman Anandhi respected deeply.

Anandhi’s hands were on the woman’s thighs — gentle, professional, following doctor’s instructions for daily physiotherapy. She was massaging slowly, firmly, helping circulate blood and ease stiffness. 

The “ahhh… ahhh…” sounds were not moans of pleasure — they were the elderly woman’s involuntary gasps of relief and discomfort as pressure was applied to knotted muscles and atrophied nerves.

Anandhi spoke softly, voice calm and caring.

“Relax, Madam. Breathe through it. Just a little more pressure here… good. You’re doing better than last week.”
The old woman nodded, eyes closed, a small smile of gratitude on her face.

“There… that’s it. Feel the stretch?”

Another soft “ahhh…” — this one clearly a sigh of relief.
Jeeva froze.

His fist still gripped his cock — mid-stroke — but the arousal drained in an instant, replaced by cold shame and a rush of relief so sharp it almost hurt. The chemical storm had tricked him again. Turned innocent sounds into betrayal. Turned a simple act of kindness into the filthiest fantasy his mind could conjure.

He released himself, cock still half-hard but softening fast, pre-cum cooling sticky on his palm. He zipped up with trembling fingers, backing away from the window.

Anandhi hadn’t been cheating.

She had been helping quietly, selflessly — a retired principal who had once mentored her, a woman confined to a wheelchair, needing daily physio that the town’s overworked doctors couldn’t always provide.


Jeeva slipped back over the wall, landing softly on the road outside. His chest heaved — not from lust now, but from something heavier.

Guilt.

He had followed her. Spied on her. Masturbated to the thought of her being fucked while she was literally helping someone in pain.
The chemical side-effects were turning him into a monster — amplifying every doubt, every suspicion, into raw, uncontrollable need.

He walked back toward the apartment, mind racing. No i should not do this.. 

Upon reaching the building, he realized the house door was locked. Anandhi wasn’t home yet. He waited a moment, then pulled out his phone and dialed her number — the one he had quietly noted from her ID card the previous day.


She picked up on the third ring.
“Who is this?”

Jeeva kept his voice steady, younger, unfamiliar.
“It’s me — Rahul’s brother, Jeeva.”

Anandhi’s tone softened instantly, a mix of surprise and relief.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you inform me before leaving in the morning?”

Jeeva leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the corridor.
“Sorry, emergency. I’ll explain later. I just came back home.”

Anandhi sighed lightly. “I’ll take another hour to come there with the kids. I need to pick them from college.”
Jeeva’s pulse quickened. He kept his tone casual.
“You’re not in college?”

“No… I’m at a friend’s place.”

He paused, then she said “I was searching for you this morning. I realized I didn’t give you my number!”
“How do you have my number?”

“I just noted it from your ID card yesterday,” he said smoothly. 

“Just wait in the opposite house. I’ll come in an hour.”

Jeeva’s mind sharpened.

“Suriya’s house? You guys are friends?”
Anandhi laughed softly — a tired, fond sound.

“No, we occasionally speak, but he is a helping person. kids used to hang out there. 
Just go to him. I’ll come soon.”

Jeeva ended the call, staring at the opposite door.
It’s even better.

Let’s use this as an excuse to enter his space and spy on him — see his intentions, his secrets.

He knocked on Suriya’s door.

The door opened slowly, the creeking sound echoed the sourroundings. .

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 14: The Neighbor’s Flat – Shadows and Secrets


Jeeva knocked on Suriya’s door — three firm raps, casual enough to seem innocent.
The door opened slowly.

Suriya stood there still in his gym clothes, sweat-dried now, clinging to every ridge of muscle. 
His eyes narrowed instantly at the sight of Jeeva dark, assessing, territorial.

“You ?” Suriya’s voice was low, edged with irritation.
“What are you doing here?”

Jeeva kept his face neutral, voice calm.

“I don’t have a key. Anandhi asked me to wait here. She’ll be back in an hour with the kids.”
Suriya’s brow furrowed. “Anandhi asked you to stay here? In my flat?”

Jeeva nodded. “Yes.”

Suriya stared — long, hard — shock flickering behind the suspicion. For a split second his face betrayed something raw: confusion, almost disbelief. 
The reaction was subtle, but Jeeva caught it. If Suriya and Anandhi had any real connection — any secret intimacy — this wouldn’t have surprised him. He would have known. He would have expected it.

But he didn’t.

The shock proved something else: Suriy watched her. Constantly. Obsessively. 
He knew her routine, her comings and goings, her every move. 
he didn't expect a sudden acknowledgement from her. 

Suriya's jaw tightened. He stepped aside without another word.
“Come in.”

Jeeva walked past him, pulse steady, mind razor-sharp.

The flat was clean, sparse, masculine, gym equipment in one corner (dumbbells neatly racked, pull-up bar mounted on the wall), a small CCTV monitor flickering on a table showing the corridor feed in real time. The angle was perfect: straight shot of Anandhi’s door. A single sofa, a coffee table, a laptop closed on the side. No liquor bottles in sight  no empty glasses, no stale smell. Suriya didn’t seem like a teetotaler, but he kept habits clean. Disciplined.

In one corner: a box of toys, plastic cars, a doll, coloring books. Likely his own kid’s from custody visits.

On the wall: a framed photo, Suriya with a woman (his ex-wife?) and a small boy, smiling in happier days. No recent photos. No sign of ongoing family warmth.

Jeeva’s eyes flicked to the table, a stack of xeroxed papers. Lawyer documents. Divorce decree. Custody agreement. A fresh application for extended visitation, requesting one full day with the child instead of just alternate weekends. Suriya was fighting for more time.

Jeeva felt a flicker of something, not sympathy exactly, but understanding. A man clinging to what was left of his family.
Suriya noticed his glance. “My kid,” he said flatly. “Alternate weekends. Trying to get more.”

Jeeva nodded. “Looks like a good father.”
Suriya’s eyes hardened. “I am.”

He turned toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a bath. Wait here. Relax if you want you can switch on the TV”
The door clicked shut.

He waited for a min and  Jeeva moved fast.

He scanned the flat, quick, silent. No hidden liquor. No women’s clothes. 
Especially No traces of Anandhi. Just clean lines and discipline.
His eyes landed on the laptop.

He opened it — password-free screen. 

Browser history: gym equipment sites, protein reviews, workout routines. A few pornographic tabs — generic, nothing specific. No Anandhi-related searches.

Desktop folders: “Kids,” “Gym,” “Work.”
Then — one labeled “A”.

Jeeva’s blood surged. “A” for Anandhi? could it be the video of Anandhi like an affair or in sex.. or videos taken without her permission like bathroom videos, his dick raised without asking

He clicked.

Password prompt.
Another folder: “A Target.”

It opened.
Inside: photos. Grainy, taken from distance. John, the politician,walking out of a building. John at a college event. John lingering near the gate. Subfolders: “Action.” Password-protected.

Jeeva’s mind raced.
Why John? What was in “Action”? Recordings? Evidence of John’s harassment? Or something darker?

He heard the bathroom door open.
He closed everything fast, sank onto the sofa.

Suriya emerged.. towel around his neck, fresh T-shirt stretched tight over wet skin, shorts low on hips. 
He poured tea from a kettle, handed Jeeva a cup.

“You haven’t been seen around here in years,” Suriya said, sitting opposite. 
“None of her relatives except her husband ever came. How are you really here?”

Jeeva sipped the tea — hot, strong. “Did you watch her this closely?
Like an old lady spying on her neighbor?”
Suriya’s eyes narrowed. “She’s got kids. I’m extra cautious. I’m a parent too.”

The answer felt rehearsed half-truth at best. Dishonest. Hiding.

Jeeva smiled lightly. “That’s okay. Our families aren’t on good terms.
I’m the new generation — just starting to patch things up.”

Suriya’s smile was thin. 

after a silence he said. Sorry for being hard last day .. 

I have seen many used to hit on single women's, and as a neighbor i just did what i had to do

Okay now you know me, will you tell me to behave same way like yesterday?

After a silence he said. yes

“You may be their relative, but behave properly. 
Especially around Anandhi.. Don't stay too close with her
Society will name a lot for a woman who’s single.”

How dare you to telll me on my face, who do you think you are and what do you think about me.

Jeeva’s jaw tightened. “Remember, she still has a husband. He just doesn’t have enough time to visit.”
that doesnt mean she is single

Suriya smiled, but he had been absent for years, rarely comes here anyone will look out for a chance.
The conversation was brutally honest now, but it brings out the deeper chracter of Suriya 

That doesn't mean all can eye her and especially me.. i know what you are suggesting 
Im not that type and i no need to explain myself to you.. 

Suriya said, if that is the case i'm fine, 
I'm just worried about your sister in law, many used to follow her, as a neighbor who worried especially about the kids, i wanted to warn you and it was you who asked will you treat me same way, so i just showed it 

Jeeva rose up

Suriya leaned forward. “Calm down. 

I’m not sure why you look me wrong .. what’s between us. Nothing. You no need to be this tough
then suriya rose up and said

Okay  We don’t seem to gel. Leave the place as soon as Anandhi arrives.”
Jeeva stood. “Not necessary. I’ll wait in the corridor.”

He stepped out.

The door shut behind him.

He disliked Suriya — intensely. 
The man was sturdy, same height as him, same build — but there was no crack of bond. 
Just cold assessment. Mutual distrust.

Jeeva leaned against the wall, waiting.
Minutes later — footsteps.

Anandhi arrived with the kids.
Riya spotted him first — ran straight to him, arms wide.

“Jeeva sithappa!” (uncle)

She hugged his legs. Rohan followed, climbing onto him like a monkey.
Anandhi smiled tired, warm. “Sorry… let’s go in.”

She didn’t even glance at Suriya’s door. No thanks. 
No acknowledgment.
Jeeva noticed.

The kids never knew the “uncle” they were hugging was their father. 
They bonded fast — laughing, chattering, pulling him inside.
Night fell.

At the dinner table, simple dal-rice, kids eating messily, Jeeva asked casually.
“Who is the lady you visit? Why do you go there?”
Anandhi looked up, fork paused mid-air.

His eyes locked on hers — searching.
She smiled softly — a small, private smile.
And the answer hung in the air.

but before she could say an answer something striked her. 
Wait 

she asked i just said i'm at a friends place, 
how do you know its a lady?

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 15: The answers and new plan



Jeeva panicked the moment Anandhi’s eyes sharpened on him.
He could see the question forming — the same sharp, intelligent look she used to give him when he came home late from odd jobs. He spoke fast, voice steady but slightly too casual.

“I just crossed your college on my way back. I saw you walking toward a big individual villa.
 I asked a person nearby and he said an old lady lives there.”

Anandhi tilted her head, still holding the kids’ college bags. “Oh… then why did you ask ‘you are not in college’?”
Jeeva forced a laugh, but it came out defensive. “Stop questioning me like a thief. Answer me first — who is she and why did you go there before college time ended?”

Anandhi’s expression softened. She set the bags down, Riya and Rohan already running inside to play.
“She is my old principal,” she said quietly. “A good human. After your brother left me alone, she became my mentor — almost six years she was my protector, my shade, everything. Recently she got ill, hospitalized. I used to help her. Soon she became the person I could pour all my sorrows to. She has a daughter who is a cop… some of my issues she took care of through her daughter, but the best part is she acts like she didn’t do it. Such a good human. So I help her now.”

She looked at him directly, eyes clear and honest.

Jeeva felt the guilt hit like a wave. The chemical storm had twisted a simple act of kindness into the filthiest fantasy in his head. He had followed her. Spied on her. Stroked himself while imagining her being fucked… while she was massaging an old woman’s paralyzed legs.

Now tell me why you ran n the morning without telling me?
He swallowed hard.

“I had a friend who needed blood — emergency. I quickly went without letting you know.”
Anandhi smiled tiredly. She reached into her bag and pulled out an extra key.

“Here. If you go out like this, at least have this. Use it when you come back. 
And if you consider me as your sister-in-law… at least phone me and inform.”

Jeeva took the key, fingers brushing hers. The touch sent a spark straight to his cock — it twitched hard against his jeans again.
“Sure,” he said, voice rough.

Night fell.

The flat was quiet after the kids slept. Jeeva sat on the guest cot, mind strangely calm for the first time in days.
No doubts. No insecurity.

The lady in the villa had saved her — been her protector, her shade, her silent support all these years. Anandhi was pure. 90% of the weight lifted from his chest. The gang’s conspiracy, the AI videos, the harassment attempts — all of it made sense now. She had never cheated. She had been fighting alone, quietly, with help from one good soul.

He decided: he would reveal himself soon. Clear every debt with the 30 lakhs. Rebuild the family.
But before that… he would eliminate the threats forever.
Sam. John. Suriya.

He would get closer to Anandhi. Observe her routine. Scan for any other troublemakers still circling her. Then he would permanently shut those three down — quietly, completely.

In the bottom of his mind, a darker thought still lingered.
He wanted to test her fidelity.

Will she succumb to this young, hard body? Will she become a bitch for the new him?

The thought alone made his cock surge again — sudden, violent, the chemical reaction hitting like a storm. It strained painfully against his jeans, head slick and leaking, sensitivity so high that even the seam of the fabric felt like teasing fingers.
He couldn’t fight it anymore.

Jeeva locked the door, stripped down, and lay back on the cot. His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veins pulsing, head flushed deep red and already dripping. He wrapped his fist around it, the first stroke drawing a low groan from his throat.
He closed his eyes and let the wild thoughts flood.

He imagined his young self, this exact body, pinning Anandhi against the wall. Her cream saree hiked to her waist, pallu fallen, 34D breasts spilling free from the blouse, dark nipples stiff and begging. He pictured thrusting into her — deep, hard, relentless — her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, moaning his real name while her pussy clenched around his thicker, younger cock.
He stroked faster. Pre-cum coated his palm, wet sounds filling the quiet room.

His vision blurred. Cum painted his thighs and the sheet.

He collapsed back, breathing ragged, cock still twitching in his hand.

Tomorrow a new plan. A new scheme.

1. Get more closer with Anandhi — win her trust completely.
   
2. Observe surroundings and scan for new troublemakers following her.
   
3. Permanently shut down Sam, John, and Suriya.
   

He wiped himself clean, mind clearer than it had been in days.

The chemical storm was still raging… but for the first time, he felt in control.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 16: The Quiet Days – Echoes of Rahul


The next two days settled into a strange, almost comforting routine — one Jeeva hadn’t expected.

He woke early each morning, the chemical storm still simmering beneath his skin, cock half-hard from dreams he could barely remember. But the flat felt different now. Warmer. Less like a battlefield and more like… home.

He volunteered for everything.

First morning: Anandhi was in the kitchen chopping vegetables  onions, tomatoes, drumsticks, her saree tucked neatly at the waist, pallu pinned over her shoulder. Jeeva walked in, sleeves rolled up.

“Let me help,” he said simply. “I’ll be sitting idle until the university letter arrives. Might as well make myself useful.”

Anandhi glanced at him, surprised, then softly grateful. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to.”

He took the knife from her hand, fingers brushing hers for the briefest second. Her skin was warm, soft. His cock twitched instantly, thickening against his jeans, but he forced his focus on the drumstick in front of him. He chopped with steady, practiced strokes — the same way he used to help her years ago, back when they were newly married and money was tight.

Anandhi watched him for a moment, then smiled , small, almost shy. “You chop exactly like Rahul did. Same grip, same rhythm.”
Jeeva’s heart stuttered. He kept his eyes on the cutting board. “Family genes.”
She laughed quietly, the sound light, unguarded. “Maybe.”

They cooked together in companionable silence. She stirred the dal, he added spices. When she reached for the salt tin on the high shelf, her saree pallu slipped slightly, just enough to reveal the soft curve of her waist and the gentle swell of her hip. Jeeva’s gaze flicked there involuntarily. Her skin glowed in the morning light, a faint sheen of sweat from the stove heat making the blouse cling to the underside of her 34D breasts. 

The outline of her nipples was faintly visible through the thin fabric , stiffening slightly from the draft.


His cock surged again, painfully hard, head leaking against his boxers. 
He turned away quickly, adjusting himself discreetly while pretending to check the flame.
Anandhi didn’t notice. 

Second day: he took Riya and Rohan to the market for groceries. The kids held his hands — Riya skipping, Rohan chattering about college — and Jeeva carried the bags without complaint. When Riya tripped on a loose stone, he caught her instantly, lifting her onto his shoulders. She squealed with delight, tiny hands clutching his hair.

Anandhi walked beside him, saree swaying, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You’re good with them,” she said quietly. “They don’t warm up to people this fast.”

Jeeva shrugged, ignoring the way his cock throbbed at her praise. “They’re easy to love.”

She looked at him  really looked , eyes soft, searching. “You remind me so much of Rahul. 
The way he used to carry them… the way he used to help without being asked.”

Jeeva’s throat tightened. “Maybe he time travelled and copied me”
he joked
Anandhi’s smile turned wistful. “Maybe.”

That evening, she let him help fold clothes. They sat on the sofa,  kids playing nearby and Anandhi passed him Rohan’s small shirts. Their fingers brushed repeatedly, warm, accidental touches that sent sparks up his arm and straight to his groin.

Each time her hand lingered a fraction longer, as if testing the contact. Her saree pallu slipped once while reaching for a towel — exposing the deep cleavage between her heavy breasts, the soft valley glistening with faint sweat from the day’s heat. Her nipples pressed visibly against the blouse — stiff, dark outlines under the thin fabric.

Jeeva’s cock strained painfully against his jeans, head slick and leaking. 
He shifted, crossing his legs to hide the bulge, but the pressure only made it worse.

Anandhi noticed , her cheeks flushed — but she said nothing. 
She was confused deep inside, she felt bad for causing a wrong thought in a much younger fellow, 
then she know it was the age , the thoughts would come. she bit her lip. 

but its an accient nothing else she said to herself
She Just kept folding, eyes flicking to him every few seconds.
By nightfall, the flat felt… peaceful.


Jeeva walked her to the college gate both mornings — scanning the streets, the crowds, the shadows. No troublemakers. No lingering stares not even a single move frm Sam, Kiran, and John,  the trio he already had on his list,  no one else seemed to be circling her.


Suriya, though… he watched from his door each time they left. Silent. Assessing. Never approaching. Never speaking.

Jeeva’s mind kept returning to the laptop folders — “A”, “A Target”, the password-protected “Action” subfolder with John’s photos. 
What was Suriya hiding? Was he upto? something he could not find a concrete answer?
But for now, Jeeva let the routine settle.

He felt lighter. Calmer. 

The storm still flared, cock hardening at the smallest things: Anandhi bending to pick up a toy, her saree clinging to her rounded ass; her kurta stretching tight across her breasts when she reached high; her laugh when the kids teased her — but it didn’t feel like torment anymore. It felt… natural.

He decided: he would open up to her soon. Reveal everything. Clear the debts. Reclaim his family.
But first — he needed to eliminate the threats.
Second a final test of fidelity with his younger self. 

He is now sure no more threats to her and his actual targets to eliminate is the trio, 
who were already in silent as a reason of the video clip he recorded. 
Only threat he is not sure how to handle is suriya. 

So even in that he is half crossed the river. 


Tomorrow he would start getting more closer.
Tomorrow he would test the boundaries a little more will his wife succumb to his younger self?!.

[heygiwriter]

Nice starting slowly weaving the web

Thanks

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 16: Coffee in the Hall – The First Test


Jeeva woke slowly, the morning light filtering through the thin curtains in pale gold streaks. The guest cot felt too small for his new frame, but the chemical storm had quieted overnight no violent erection this time, just a low, simmering heat in his blood. He lay there for a moment, listening.
The flat was quiet. No kids’ laughter. No running footsteps. Only the soft clink of metal from the kitchen and the distant hum of the ceiling fan.


He rose, pulled on a loose T-shirt and shorts the fabric already tenting slightly at the front and stepped into the hall.

Anandhi emerged from the kitchen carrying a small steel tray: two tumblers of steaming coffee, a plate of biscuits. She wore a simple cotton house saree light blue with a thin border the pallu dbangd loosely over her shoulder, still damp at the edges from the morning wash. Her fair skin glowed in the soft light, black hair tied in a practical knot, a few strands clinging to her neck.

The saree clung slightly to her curves from the humidity — outlining the heavy swell of her 34D breasts, the gentle dip of her waist, the rounded hips swaying as she walked.


She smiled when she saw him tired, warm, genuine.
“Good morning. Coffee?”

Jeeva sat on the worn sofa. “Thanks.”

She placed the tray on the low table and handed him a tumbler. Their fingers brushed warm, deliberate on her part this time. Jeeva’s cock twitched hard, thickening against his shorts in an instant. The chemical sensitivity made the brief contact feel like a slow stroke — pre-cum already beading at the tip, soaking into the fabric.


He gripped the tumbler tighter to hide the growing bulge.


Anandhi sat opposite him on a low stool, sipping her own coffee. The position made her saree pallu slip a fraction — exposing the soft upper curve of her breast, the faint shadow of cleavage glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the kitchen heat. Her nipples pressed visibly against the thin blouse — stiff, dark outlines under the damp cotton.

Jeeva’s pulse spiked. He forced his eyes up.

“The kids are at Suriya’s?” he asked casually.

Anandhi nodded. “It’s Sunday. They go there every Sunday. All of them play together — his son comes for visitation sometimes on Sundays.

So, I only allow it on Sundays.”

Jeeva leaned back, studying her face. “I don’t see you speaking with him. Not even a word. But you trust him with the kids?” and why specifically on Sundays?

Anandhi looked down at her tumbler, fingers tracing the rim.

“I never really spoke with him,” she said quietly. 
“Except once. The day his wife divorced him and stopped him from seeing his son. 

I heard a man crying — powerful, broken. I went in. That was the only time I spoke to him. He was shattered.
I told him to fight for his child. I Consoled him with few words. That was it. 

She met his eyes — clear, honest.

“I’m alone here. I fear entertaining any unwanted talks with Men in particular. 
Rumors spread fast. 

The day when he broke down, the consecutive days, Riya and Rohan brought him back — they played together for almost a week. 

He genuinely cares for them. 

but that does'nt stay longer. 

Then an old lady down the street saw it in the wrong way and spread rumors. 

I decided to shut their mouths. I didn’t want it… so i avoided speaking with him also, i restricted by kids going there. 

But later days i realised he’s not a wrong doer. So i let my kids play with him go to him once a week. That falls mostly on sunday as he would expect his kid to visit him. so it would be natural. 

I don’t speak with him. Except for emergencies, I didt tell him but i know he understands me. 
For his sake, I leave the kids only on Sundays.”

Jeeva felt the pieces shift.

Suriya wasn’t a lover. He wasn’t even a close friend.


He was a broken man clinging to his own child’s happiness and perhaps, in some quiet way, repaying Anandhi’s single act of kindness by watching over her and the kids. 

The CCTV, the possessiveness, the “taking care” claim — it made sense now. Not lust. Gratitude. Duty.


Anandhi set her tumbler down and stood.
“I’ll get breakfast ready.”

She turned toward the kitchen.

Jeeva watched her go, the sway of her hips, the soft rustle of her saree, the way the pallu clung to the curve of her ass. His cock surged again — full, painful hardness tenting his shorts visibly. The chemical storm flared, urging him forward.

His mind went back to Suriya, still what is the mystery with Laptop and the secret Folders? 

but he thanked Suriya for taking away kids for a day 
This was his moment.


Alone. No kids. No Suriya.
Time to test her fidelity.

He rose and followed her into the kitchen.
Anandhi was at the counter, back to him, chopping vegetables.
The morning light streamed through the small window, making her skin glow. She didn’t hear him at first.

Jeeva stepped closer — close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body, to smell the faint jasmine in her hair mixed with the cumin on the stove.

She sensed him — stiffened slightly.
“Jeeva… why are you here?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just stood behind her — inches away — watching the rise and fall of her shoulders, the gentle sway of her breasts as she chopped.
“I just wanted to spend time with you,” he said, voice low.
Anandhi turned slowly.
Her eyes flicked down — just for a second 
to the obvious bulge straining against his shorts. but she distracted his eyes and set it on his eyes.  
She met his gaze — steady, soft, but firm.


“I’m feeling very happy about your friendship,” 
she said quietly. “I don’t want the world to badmouth you too… 
and make me stay away from you just like they pushed me away from Suriya. 
And you are even more dangerous — you’re the closest relation.”


She paused, voice gentle but clear.
“I hope you can understand what I want to convey.”

It was a tight slap — soft, graceful, devastating.
Jeeva felt the air leave his lungs.

She had noticed. All those stolen glances over the past days his eyes roaming her body, lingering on her curves, her breasts, her hips. She had seen. And she was shutting it down — kindly, firmly, without anger.

He didn’t know what to say.

He felt caught. Exposed. Impressed.

He said,  I agree i like your friendship and i think i fallen in love with my brothers wife. he laughs it like a joke. 

She had dismissed him gracefully — the same way she handled everything: with quiet strength.
Anandhi smiled — small, sad, understanding.

“I would love only once,” she said softly. “Maybe that’s only Rahul.”

Jeeva’s cock throbbed painfully — the chemical storm making the rejection hurt and arouse him at the same time.

He forced a laugh — weak, like a joke.
“Yeah… i know.”

She turned back to the counter.
The silence stretched — heavy, loaded.

After she know he left, she dropped the vessels, and place his hand on the counter, in little disppointment and confusion. 
She said to herself no this is wrong.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 17: A Gentle Dinner & A Heavy Night



Jeeva stood frozen in the corridor for a long moment after Anandhi’s quiet dismissal.
The words echoed in his head: “I would love only once… Maybe that’s only Rahul.”

It was a rejection — soft, graceful, devastating. His cock still throbbed painfully against his shorts, the chemical storm turning the humiliation into twisted arousal. But beneath the heat, something else stirred.

Relief.

She hadn’t wavered. She hadn’t looked twice at the young, hard body standing inches from her. She hadn’t blushed with invitation or curiosity. She had shut it down — kindly, firmly, with the same quiet strength she used for everything else.
She was pure.
She was still his.

He should have been happy.

Instead, a strange sadness tugged at him — not for the rejection, but for the years she had carried alone. For the loneliness in her voice when she said Rahul’s name. For the way she still loved a man who had left her to rot in Mumbai while he chased rupees.
He took a deep breath. Forced a smile. Walked back into the kitchen.

Anandhi was at the counter, back to him, chopping vegetables again — the knife moving in steady rhythm.
Jeeva cleared his throat.

“Don’t cook anything,” he said, voice lighter than he felt. “I’ll cook for everyone. I’m going to get chicken and come back.”
Anandhi turned — surprised, confused. The knife paused mid-chop.
“You… don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

He didn’t wait for protest. He grabbed his wallet and phone, stepped out, and headed to the market.
Behind him, Anandhi stared at the empty doorway.
She felt… strange.

She had rejected him gently, clearly — and he hadn’t pushed. No guilt in his eyes. No inconvenience. No attempt to reprocess or argue. He had just… accepted.

She should have been relieved.

Instead, she felt a small pang — something like regret, something like guilt. Not for saying no — she meant every word — but for the way his face had flickered with hurt before he hid it.

She shook her head. Focused on the vegetables.
But deep down, she knew: he reminded her too much of Rahul.

The same quiet care. The same willingness to help without being asked. The same spark in his eyes when he looked at the kids.
Irony twisted inside her: the man who looked exactly like her husband was acting exactly like her husband used to.
And she couldn’t let herself feel anything more.

The day passed in quiet harmony.

Jeeva returned with fresh chicken, spices, and a small packet of sweets for the kids. He took over the kitchen — chopping onions with the same steady rhythm Rahul once had, marinating the meat, stirring the curry while Anandhi watched from the doorway.

She leaned against the frame, arms crossed, saree pallu slipping slightly to reveal the soft curve of her waist. She didn’t fix it.
“You really don’t have to do this,” she said softly.
Jeeva glanced over his shoulder — smile easy.

“I like it. Reminds me of home.”

Anandhi’s heart gave a small, painful thud.
She turned away before he could see the shimmer in her eyes.

Lunch was simple but warm — chicken curry, rice, dal, the kids chattering nonstop. Jeeva sat on the floor with them, letting Riya feed him a spoonful, letting Rohan climb onto his back. Anandhi went to Suriyas house and delivered a lunch box and came back without a word. She watched kids from the table — smiling, quiet, a strange peace settling over her.

For the first time in years, the flat felt… full.

Evening came.

They watched TV together  an old family movie kids sprawled on the sofa, heads on Jeeva’s lap, Anandhi sitting beside him. Her shoulder brushed his once — accidental — and neither moved away. Jeeva’s cock twitched again, but this time the arousal felt softer, less violent. Less like a storm and more like a tide.

Night fell.

The kids were asleep. The flat was dark except for a small lamp in the hall.
Anandhi sat on the sofa edge — tired, sad, staring at her phone.

Jeeva sat beside her — close enough that their thighs almost touched.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “If it troubled you earlier… it’s just my age. And I really like you. If you weren’t my brother’s wife… I would have proposed.”

He asked why are you sad almost you are having tears in corner of the eyes did i hurt you..
Anandhi’s breath hitched.

She said no, its not you.. 
Tears welled suddenly — silent, unstoppable.

She leaned sideways — head resting on his shoulder,the first real touch she had allowed since he arrived.

“It’s been two-three weeks,” she whispered. “I couldn’t reach him. Earlier times we’ve been the same way… but this time it feels odd.”
Jeeva’s heart cracked open.

He wanted to tell her — right then, right there. That he was Rahul. That he had come back. That he had never stopped loving her.
But fear stopped him.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if the machine, the youth, the lies — what if she saw only deception?
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder — gentle, brotherly.

“He’ll come back,” he said softly. “I promise.”

She cried quietly against him — small, shuddering breaths.
He held her until she fell asleep.

Then he carried her to bed — careful, reverent — laid her down, pulled the sheet over her.
He returned to the guest cot.
Sleep didn’t come easy.

He stared at the ceiling, mind racing.
He had to come clean tomorrow.
He had to call Madhavan — arrange proof, recordings, something undeniable.
He had to end the charade.


He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he would reveal himself.
Tomorrow everything would change.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 18: The Rooftop Betrayal & The Call


Jeeva woke before dawn — 6:30 AM — the flat still wrapped in pre-light quiet. 
The chemical storm had eased overnight, leaving only a dull, persistent ache in his groin, his cock half-hard against the sheet like a low-grade fever.

No soft footsteps in the kitchen.
No water running in the bathroom.

He sat up slowly, cot creaking under his lean frame. 
The guest room door was ajar. 

He stepped into the hall — dim, cool, the ceiling fan stirring lazy air.

Kids’ room first.
kids were sleeping 

but no traces of Anandhi. 

Jeeva’s pulse quickened.
He checked the kitchen — stove cold, no coffee brewing.
Bathroom — door open, dry. The whole flat — silent, empty.

He moved to the main door. It was unlocked — just pushed to, not latched.
His stomach dropped.

“Where did she go at this hour?” he muttered to himself. “6:30 AM…”

He pulled out his phone to call her — thumb hovering over her name — then froze.
What if something was really happening?

What if all his fears — the dreams, the doubts, Suriya’s “taking care” claim — were true?
What if she was with him right now?

He pocketed the phone. Stepped into the corridor.
Empty. Dim bulb flickering. Suriya’s door closed.

Jeeva’s heart slammed. He moved silently to Suriya’s door — light push.
It swung open — unlocked.
Shit.

He slipped inside — slow, silent — eyes adjusting to the low light.
The flat was dark except for a faint glow from the corridor monitor. Gym equipment in the corner. Toys scattered. Laptop closed on the table.
No one in the hall.

He checked the bedroom — empty bed, sheets neat.
Kitchen — empty.
Jeeva’s blood roared.

They were gone.
Both of them.

He stepped back into the corridor 
breath shallow — and looked toward the staircase.
The narrow stairs leading up to the rooftop terrace — where water tanks stood and clothes were usually dried.
His gut twisted.

He climbed slowly 
barefoot, silent — phone in hand, camera ready, recording.

as he climbed cool morning air hitting his face.
Suriya was there.
Alone.

Leaning against the pabangt, cigarette glowing in the dark. He wore only shorts — bare-chested, six-pack carved deep, fair skin glistening with morning dew. 

A clothesline stretched across the terrace 
Anandhi’s bras and panties hanging among the kids’ clothes and her sarees.
Suriya took a slow drag.

Then casually he reached out.

His fingers brushed one of Anandhi’s bras  white lace, cups still holding the shape of her breasts. He lifted it to his face — inhaled deeply — then pressed his lips to the inner cup in a slow, reverent kiss. A puff of smoke curled from his mouth onto the fabric. He smiled — small, private, satisfied.

Jeeva’s phone kept recording — steady, silent.

“Bastard,” he whispered to himself. “Acted like a saint… but you’ve been lusting after her like a creep.”
Suriya exhaled, let the bra fall back onto the line, and took another drag.

Jeeva’s cock  traitorously  twitched hard in his shorts. The storm flared again rage and arousal twisting together at the sight of Suriya desecrating what belonged to him.


His thumb hovered over the stop button.
Then his phone vibrated — incoming call.

Madhavan.
Jeeva’s blood froze.

He had planned to call Madhavan this morning, to arrange proof, to plan the reveal.
But Madhavan had called first.
What could it be?

He answered — voice low, barely above a whisper.
“Where are you?” Madhavan asked, tone urgent, no greeting.

“In the home,” Jeeva lied, still on the rooftop stairs, door cracked.
“Return soon.”

Jeeva’s grip tightened. “Why?”
“Don’t ask questions. Return soon.”

Jeeva’s anger flared. Whats the emergency “Reason me. 

Listen 
Everything is going fine here. Don’t spoil my mood.”
Madhavan lost patience, voice sharp.

“The monkey they tested lost its life. 
It didn’t pass the 100-day cycle. 
I just want to make sure I can reverse you… before it’s too late.”
Jeeva’s world tilted.

The rooftop wind whipped around him cold, sudden.
The phone trembled in his hand.

Suriya’s cigarette glowed in the distance — oblivious.
Anandhi’s bra swayed gently on the line.

Eighty days left? Or less. Much less.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 19: The Vanishing Husband


Jeeva stood frozen on the rooftop stairs, phone still pressed to his ear, Madhavan’s words echoing like a death sentence.
“The monkey didn’t pass the 100-day cycle. I just want to make sure I can reverse you… before it’s too late.”

The rooftop wind whipped cold against his skin, but he barely felt it. The world darkened around him — edges blurring, sounds muffling — as if the building itself was closing in. Suriya’s cigarette glowed faintly in the distance, Anandhi’s bra swaying on the line like a mocking flag, but none of it registered.

He was dying. Again.

May be in months?

His legs felt leaden, his chest hollow. He stumbled back down to the corridor, pushed into the flat, shut the door behind him.
The house was still empty.

He forgot — for a long, numb hour — that she was missing.
He sat on the sofa, staring at the blank wall, the kids’ drawings pinned crookedly, Riya’s crayon stick-figure family still smiling. His vision blurred — not from tears, not yet — just from the sheer weight of it all.

He had come back to revenge her, but when he learns truth he wanted to save them.
To protect them.
To love her again.

And now he had less than 80 days — maybe — before his body betrayed him a second time.
He stood. Walked to the kids’ room.

Riya’s doll lay on the pillow. Rohan’s toy car sat on the windowsill.
He sank to his knees beside the bed.
The tears came then — silent at first, then ragged, choking sobs. He pressed his face into Riya’s blanket, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo and innocence.

“I shouldn’t have accepted this,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have let the machine touch me. I should have died on that road. At least then… you’d have a father who didn’t abandon you twice.”

He cried until his throat burned, until the sobs turned to quiet, shuddering breaths.
30 mins later

Footsteps in the corridor.

He wiped his face quickly, stood, straightened his shirt.
Anandhi opened the door — carrying a small cloth bag, face tired but calm.

Jeeva’s voice came out hoarse. “Where did you go?”
Anandhi set the bag down, met his eyes.

“I went to the security officer station. To make a formal complaint.”
Jeeva’s stomach dropped. “What?”
She sighed, rubbing her temple. “It’s strange and unusual. Rahul is missing for almost three weeks. I thought I couldn’t delay it anymore. So I filed a missing person report.”

Jeeva stared at her — numb, stunned.
She continued, voice steady but soft.

“The old lady’s daughter — the cop — she asked me to hand over a letter to her today. She’s going to Chennai. So I went early to the station, gave her the letter, filed the report, and came back.”

Jeeva felt the ground tilt.
She was worried about him.

She had gone to the security officer — not somwhere to have a secret affair. 
she still cared enough to search for the husband who had vanished.

He was not sure what to tell her.
He decided — in that moment — to let Rahul remain the missing person forever. Instead of telling truth and spoil her happiness. 

But he also needed to make sure he was fine — or as fine as a dying man could be.
He cleared his throat. “I’m leaving for a friend’s place. I’ll be back in two days.”
Anandhi frowned. “Without breakfast?”

“I’ll eat on the way.”
He grabbed his phone, wallet, the extra key she had given him — and left.
No hug. No explanation.

He caught the next flight to Mumbai.
Madhavan was waiting at a discreet airstrip outside the city — black Mercedes idling, lab coat swapped for a plain jacket.
Jeeva stepped out of the cab — face pale, eyes hollow.
Madhavan took one look at him and sighed.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to run tests. Now.”
Jeeva followed him into the car.
The door shut.
The engine purred to life.