Bought by Love, Trapped by Hunger

[zeus90]

Character Names
Girl: Simran 
Age: 25
Background:  12th pass, brave, emotional, strong-minded. She believes love can defeat society, but Delhi slowly teaches her that love without courage becomes a burden.
Boy: Ravi Kumar
Age: 24/25
Background:  unemployed, soft-hearted but scared. He loves Simran, but he avoids conflict and does not understand how dangerous the world can be for a woman in a weak situation.

---

Chapter 1: Delhi Ka Darwaza
(Delhi’s Door)
Simran had never stepped outside her pind (village) without telling anyone.
But that night, she walked out like someone who had already burned the bridge behind her.
A small black bag hung from her shoulder. Inside it were two Punjabi suits, her 12th class certificates, one old phone charger, and a folded photo of her mother that she had almost left behind. Her hands were shaking, but her eyes were not.
At the bus stand, Ravi Kumar waited near a tea stall, wearing a faded blue jacket and holding a small backpack. He looked more frightened than excited.
“Simran… pakka?” (Simran… are you sure?) he asked softly.
Simran looked at him. “Ab pichhe nahi mudna.” (Now we can’t turn back.)
Ravi swallowed. “Tere ghar wale… mere pichhe aa gaye toh?” (What if your family comes after me?)
She stepped closer. “Mere liye darr lag raha hai ya apne liye?” (Are you scared for me or for yourself?)
Ravi had no answer.
They had only ₹20,000 between them. Simran had saved most of it from small tuition work. Ravi had brought a few thousand from home, hidden in an old wallet.
Their dream was simple.
Reach Delhi. Find work. Save money. Do court marriage later, when they had documents, money, and some stability.
For now, they would pretend to be married.
Not because they were careless.
Because the world respected a fake marriage more than a woman’s real choice.
The bus left before sunrise.
Simran watched the fields disappear through the dusty window. Mustard fields, small houses, tube wells, familiar roads, everything slipped away like pages torn from an old diary.
Ravi sat beside her, quiet. His fingers kept checking the wallet again and again.
“Paise hain,” (We have money.) Simran said, noticing him.
“Bas itne se kya hoga?” (What will happen with only this much?) Ravi whispered.
Simran looked outside.
“Shuruaat hogi.” (It will be a beginning.)

---

Delhi
Delhi did not welcome them.
It swallowed them.
The noise hit first. Horns, shouting, vendors, engines, footsteps, announcements. At the station, people moved like floodwater. Nobody looked at anyone for more than half a second. Nobody cared that two young lovers had arrived with fear in their bags and hope in their pockets.
Ravi stood still, confused.
“Kahan jaana hai?” (Where do we have to go?) Simran asked.
“Main… main soch raha tha…” (I… I was thinking…) he muttered.
Simran’s face changed. “Ravi, tumne plan nahi banaya?” (Ravi, you didn’t make a plan?)
“Main socha tha Delhi aa ke koi kaam mil jayega.” (I thought after coming to Delhi, we would find some work.)
For the first time, Simran felt something cold enter her chest.
Not fear.
Realization.
Ravi had brought love.
But not a plan.
They walked through crowded roads, narrow lanes, hotel streets, and cheap markets. Simran’s body felt heavy from the journey. Her face looked tired, like one more step and she would fall straight into bed if she found one.
She wore a simple Punjabi suit, pale pink with a light dupatta (scarf). The bus journey had crushed the fabric. Her hair had loosened around her forehead. One side of her dupatta had slipped from her shoulder, and she quickly fixed it.
It was a small thing.
But in Delhi, even small things had eyes.
Men sitting outside tea stalls watched.
Some looked away when she looked back.
Some did not.
Ravi noticed nothing.
That worried her more.

---

Shanti Stay Rooms
Near Paharganj, after walking for hours, they found a small hotel behind a narrow staircase.
The board outside was half broken:
Shanti Stay Rooms
The owner was a thin man in his late forties with oily hair and paan-stained lips. His name was Mahesh.
“How many days?” Mahesh asked.
“Bas kuch din.” (Just a few days.) Ravi said.
“ID?”
Simran gave her Aadhaar card. Ravi gave his.
Mahesh looked at both cards, then at their faces.
“Husband-wife?”
Ravi froze.
Simran answered, “Haan.” (Yes.)
Mahesh smiled like he did not believe her, but he did not ask for a marriage certificate.
He only wanted money.
“Advance four days. ₹4,000. Room ₹1,000 per day. Paani alag. Koi drama nahi chahiye.”
(Four days advance. ₹4,000. Room is ₹1,000 per day. Water is extra. I don’t want any drama.)
Ravi whispered, “Bahut mehnga hai.” (It is very expensive.)
Simran looked at the lane outside. Men were staring. The station was worse. The day had already eaten their strength.
She opened her purse.
“Four days,” she said.
Mahesh took the money and handed them a key.
“Room 207.”
The room was small, with one bed, a cracked mirror, a fan that made a tired noise, and a window that opened to a wall. The bedsheet had old stains. The bathroom tap leaked drop by drop.
But to Simran, for that moment, it felt like a door between her and the wolves outside.
She dropped her bag near the bed and sat down slowly.
Her bones felt empty.
Ravi sat beside her and exhaled.
“Bas Simran, ab sab theek ho jayega.” (That’s it, Simran. Now everything will be fine.)
She looked at him.
The room was quiet, but the city was not.
Outside, Mahesh’s voice echoed in the corridor. Someone laughed. A door closed. Footsteps stopped near their room for a second, then moved away.
Simran locked the door twice.
Then she placed her certificates under the mattress, counted the remaining money, and looked at Ravi.
“Kal se kaam dhoondhna hai. Tum bhi. Main bhi.”
(From tomorrow, we have to find work. You too. Me too.)
Ravi nodded, but his eyes were still full of fear.
That night, for a few hours, Delhi stopped feeling like an enemy.
The room was ugly, the fan made noise, and the window opened to nothing but a stained wall. Still, Simran and Ravi sat close together on the bed, sharing one packet of chips and two cups of tea from downstairs.
Ravi smiled for the first time since they had arrived.
“Simran, jab apna ghar hoga na… main tumhe white curtains laa ke dunga.”
(Simran, when we have our own home… I will bring you white curtains.)
Simran laughed softly. “Pehle ghar toh dhoondh lo. Curtains baad mein.”
(First find a home. Curtains can come later.)
He held her hand. “Tum mere saath ho, bas main sab kar lunga.”
(You are with me, that is enough. I will do everything.)
Simran looked at him.
His words were brave.
His eyes were not.
Still, that night they forgot the money, the station, the hotel owner, the fear. They held each other like two people trying to prove that love was stronger than the city outside.
But morning came with a different face.
And Delhi did not care about love.

---

Kam Ki Talaash
(Search for Work)
Ravi left early to find work.
Simran tried to press his shirt with her hands, smoothing the wrinkles against the mattress.
“Confident lagna.” (Look confident.) she said.
“Main lag raha hoon?” (Do I look confident?) Ravi asked.
Simran fixed his collar. “Thoda.” (A little.)
He smiled weakly.
By afternoon, Ravi returned with dust on his shoes and disappointment on his face.
“Kya hua?” (What happened?) Simran asked.
“Kisi ne rakha nahi. Sab experience poochte hain.”
(Nobody hired me. Everyone asks for experience.)
“Factory?”
“Reference chahiye.” (They want a reference.)
“Shop?”
“Experience chahiye.” (They want experience.)
“Hotel?”
“Local contact chahiye.” (They want a local contact.)
Simran stayed quiet.
The next day he went again.
Same result.
On the third day, he found labour work near a construction site. The contractor gave him bricks to carry, sacks to lift, and shouted every time he slowed down.
Ravi’s body was not made for that kind of work. He had never done hard labour in his life. His hands blistered before evening.
After two days, the contractor pushed ₹600 into his hand and said, “Kal se mat aana. Tu bahut slow hai. Kaam ka nahi.”
(Don’t come from tomorrow. You are too slow. You are not useful for work.)
Ravi came back angry, ashamed, and silent.
Simran saw his hands.
“Yeh kya hua?” (What happened to this?)
“Kuch nahi.” (Nothing.)
“Ravi.”
He threw the money on the bed. “Bas itna mila. Khush?”
(This is all I got. Happy?)
Simran froze.
The room became smaller.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said.
Ravi rubbed his face. “Sorry. Main bas thak gaya hoon.”
(Sorry. I am just tired.)
Simran picked up the money and counted what they had left.
₹20,000 had already fallen badly.
Hotel advance. Food. Tea. Travel. Phone recharge. Small things.
Delhi was eating their money bite by bite.
“Ravi,” she said slowly, “main bhi kaam kar leti hoon.”
(Ravi, I will also start working.)
His head lifted at once. “Nahi.” (No.)
“Why?”
“Tum meri wife ho.” (You are my wife.)
“Wife hoon, prisoner nahi.” (I am your wife, not your prisoner.)
“Main manage kar lunga.” (I will manage.)
Simran looked at the cracked mirror.
“Tum manage kar rahe ho?” (Are you managing?)
Ravi had no answer.
That was the problem.
Ravi loved her, but he did not know how the world worked.
And whenever he did not know what to do, he made decisions that Simran had to pay for later.

---

The Cheap Bar
That evening, Ravi did not come back on time.
Simran waited.
Seven became eight.
Eight became nine.
When he finally entered, she smelled alcohol before he spoke.
“Tumne pee rakhi hai?” (Have you been drinking?) she asked.
“Thodi si.” (A little.) Ravi said.
Her eyes hardened. “Paise nahi hain, aur tum sharab pee rahe ho?”
(We don’t have money, and you are drinking alcohol?)
Ravi sat down, embarrassed. “Bas dimag kharab tha.”
(My mind was just disturbed.)
“Dimag theek karna hai ya life?”
(Do you want to fix your mind or your life?)
Ravi looked away.
At the cheap bar near the labour chowk (labour market area), he had met a man named Billa.
Billa was around forty-five, heavy body, thick moustache, always chewing something. He spoke like a man who had seen too much and cared too little.
“Punjab se hai?” (Are you from Punjab?) Billa had asked.
“Haan.” (Yes.) Ravi said.
“Kaam dhoondh raha?” (Looking for work?)
Ravi nodded.
“Biwi hai?” (Do you have a wife?)
Ravi became careful. “Haan.” (Yes.)
Billa leaned back and smiled.
“Mere paas tere liye kaam nahi. Tu mazboot nahi lagta. Lekin teri biwi ke liye ho sakta hai.”
(I don’t have work for you. You don’t look strong. But there may be work for your wife.)
Ravi’s face changed. “Nahi, meri wife kaam nahi karegi.”
(No, my wife will not work.)
Billa laughed. “Phir bhookh karegi?”
(Then will hunger work for you? / Then will you stay hungry?)
Ravi stayed silent.
Billa continued, “Jahan main garden ka kaam karta hoon, owner ko ghar mein khana banane wali chahiye. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Saaf ghar. Paisa time pe. Safe jagah.”
(Where I work as a gardener, the owner needs someone to cook at home. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Clean house. Money on time. Safe place.)
Ravi did not like the way Billa said wife.
But he liked the word paisa (money).
Billa asked casually, “Sundar hai?” (Is she beautiful?)
Ravi looked at him. “Normal hai.” (She is normal.)
Billa smiled again.
But his mind was already painting a dirty picture.
A young woman.
New in Delhi.
No family.
No marriage papers.
Weak husband.
Money finishing.
Men like Billa did not see helpless people as people.
They saw open doors.
“Poochh le. Agar maan jaaye toh kal le aana.”
(Ask her. If she agrees, bring her tomorrow.)
Ravi said, “Main poochh ke bataunga.”
(I will ask and tell you.)

---

The Decision
That night, Ravi told Simran.
At first, she refused.
“Unknown aadmi ke ghar? Nahi.”
(At an unknown man’s house? No.)
“Main bhi saath chalunga,” Ravi said quickly. “Pehle dekh lenge. Billa keh raha tha owner decent aadmi hai.”
(I will also come with you. First we will see. Billa was saying the owner is a decent man.)
Simran watched him carefully.
“Billa kaun hai?” (Who is Billa?)
“Labour ka aadmi hai. Thoda age mein bada hai. Usne help offer ki.”
(He is a labour man. A little older. He offered help.)
“Free help?” (Free help?)
Ravi became irritated. “Har aadmi bura nahi hota, Simran.”
(Not every man is bad, Simran.)
“Har aadmi achha bhi nahi hota.”
(Not every man is good either.)
Ravi looked at the money on the bed.
Only a few thousand were left.
The hotel was paid for four days, but after that, they had no plan.
The silence made the decision for them.
“Kal chal ke dekhte hain,” Simran said. “Par final decision main karungi.”
(Tomorrow we will go and see. But I will make the final decision.)
Ravi nodded quickly.
“Haan, haan. Bas dekhna.”
(Yes, yes. Just to see.)
But inside, he was relieved.
Simran noticed that too.

---

The Big House
Next morning, Billa came to the lane outside Shanti Stay Rooms.
He wore a brown sweater, loose pants, and old sandals. His belly pushed against his shirt. He smiled at Ravi like an uncle, but his eyes moved toward Simran first.
Simran was wearing a dark green Punjabi suit. Her dupatta was pinned properly now, her hair tied back, her face washed but still tired from stress and poor sleep.
Billa’s eyes travelled over her with no shame.
“Madam ji?” (Madam?) he asked.
Simran did not smile. “Simran.”
“Chalo, owner wait kar raha hai.”
(Come, the owner is waiting.)
They took an auto to a quieter part of Delhi. The roads became wider. The buildings became taller. The noise changed from survival to money.
Then they stopped in front of a large white house with black gates.
Simran looked up.
It was not a house.
It was a different world.
Inside, there was a lawn, trimmed plants, a car under shade, and silence. The kind of silence poor people are never allowed to have.
Ravi stared at the house like a child staring at a fair.
“Yeh ghar hai?” (This is a house?) he whispered.
Simran looked at him.
That look on his face scared her.
Because Ravi had already started trusting the walls.
Billa opened the side gate.
“Main garden sambhalta hoon,” he said proudly. “Owner akela rehta hai.”
(I take care of the garden. The owner lives alone.)
“Family?” Ravi asked.
Billa shrugged. “Divorce ho gaya.” (He got divorced.)
Simran heard that word and stored it quietly.

---

Arvind Malhotra
The owner came out wearing a clean white kurta-pajama and expensive slippers.
His name was Arvind Malhotra.
He was in his early fifties, tall, fair, with a soft voice and cold eyes. At first look, he seemed polite. The kind of man who says beta (child/dear) while calculating your weakness.
Billa bent slightly. “Sir, yahi hai woh couple.”
(Sir, this is that couple.)
Arvind looked at Ravi first.
Then at Simran.
His gaze stayed one second too long.
Simran felt it.
Ravi did not.
Arvind noticed her Punjabi suit, her tired face, the strength in her eyes, and the way she stood slightly ahead of Ravi without realizing it.
Beautiful, he thought.
Not polished city beautiful.
Village beautiful.
Proud.
Tired.
Trapped.
A woman who had left home. A woman without family support. A woman with a weak man beside her.
Arvind’s mind moved quietly.
Help them first.
Make them dependent.
Then the door will close by itself.
“Come,” Arvind said. “Sit.”
They sat in the side verandah. A servant brought water, though Simran noticed the servant did not look anyone in the eye.
Arvind asked normal questions first.
“Where are you from?”
“Punjab,” Ravi said.
“Education?”
“Main 10th pass hoon. Simran 12th pass hai.”
(I am 10th pass. Simran is 12th pass.)
Arvind turned to her. “12th? Then why house work?”
Simran answered before Ravi could speak.
“Kaam chhota nahi hota. Situation chhoti ho sakti hai.”
(Work is never small. Only the situation can be small.)
For a moment, Arvind smiled.
Not with kindness.
With interest.
“Very confident,” he said.
Simran did not reply.
Then Ravi, wanting sympathy, made the first mistake.
“Sir, actually hum ghar se bhaag ke aaye hain. Family marriage ke khilaaf thi.”
(Sir, actually we ran away from home. The family was against our marriage.)
Simran’s eyes snapped toward him.
Ravi continued, nervous and foolish.
“Social problem thi. Yeh rich family se hai… main lower  side se hoon. Isliye…”
(There was a social problem. She is from a family… I am from a lower side. That is why…)
Arvind’s expression changed so slightly that only Simran caught it.
A spark.
Not shock.
Not pity.
Opportunity.
He looked at Simran’s face.
Rich girl, he thought.
Family pride. Social shame. No support. No legal marriage. Weak boy.
A slow plan opened inside his mind.
If she had nowhere to return, then fear would do half the work.
Out loud, he said, “Very sad. Society is cruel.”
Inside, he thought, Cruel society leaves useful cracks.
Simran saw the tiny change in his eyes.
A hunger wearing decent clothes.
She lowered her gaze for one second, not because she was weak, but because she needed to hide the fact that she had understood him.
Arvind leaned back.
“So no family support?”
Ravi shook his head. “No sir.”
“No relatives in Delhi?”
“No sir.”
“No one knows exactly where you are staying?”
Ravi almost answered.
Simran cut in. “People know we are in Delhi.”
Arvind looked at her.
Their eyes met.
He understood she was not easy.
That made him more careful.
And more interested.

---

The Offer
Arvind folded his hands over his stomach.
“Work is simple. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Basic cooking. I will pay ₹7,000 per month.”
Ravi’s face fell. “Sir, thoda zyada…”
(Sir, a little more…)
Arvind lifted one finger. “Listen first. If she does extra house work, cleaning, laundry, other duties, I can increase. Depends on work.”
Simran asked, “Timing?”
“Morning to evening,” Arvind said. “But since you are new in Delhi, staying in hotel will waste money.”
Ravi leaned forward.
Arvind saw it.
The hook had touched skin.
“There is a small room outside the main house,” Arvind said. “Near the back. You both can stay there. Rent ₹10,000 per month.”
Simran immediately understood the trap.
Salary ₹7,000.
Rent ₹10,000.
More work to cover the gap.
More dependence.
More control.
Arvind continued smoothly, “First month I can adjust. Food will also be easier. You people will be safe here. Later, when Ravi gets work, you can manage rent.”
Ravi’s eyes brightened.
A big house.
A room.
Safety.
He heard only those words.
Simran was about to ask more questions.
But Ravi spoke first.
“Sir, woh kab se kaam start kar sakti hai?”
(Sir, when can she start work?)
Simran turned toward him.
Stunned.
Not because he asked.
Because he did not ask her.
For one second, the garden went silent.
Billa smiled from the side.
Arvind smiled too.
Very small.
Hook done, he thought.
Simran looked at Ravi like she was seeing the first crack in a wall she had leaned on.
Arvind said gently, “Tomorrow morning.”
Then he looked at Simran.
“Or today, if she wants to understand the kitchen.”
Simran held his gaze.
“I will see the room first,” she said.
Arvind’s smile stayed polite.
“Of course.”

---

The Outside Room
Billa took them around the side path.
Behind the main house, near the garden tools and water tank, stood a small outside room with a tin shade above it. It had one narrow bed, one old cupboard, one bulb, and a bathroom attached from outside.
Compared to Shanti Stay Rooms, it was cleaner.
Compared to freedom, it was a cage with fresh paint.
Ravi stepped inside and smiled.
“Simran, hotel se better hai.”
(Simran, it is better than the hotel.)
She checked the window.
Bars.
She checked the lock.
It worked from inside, but there was also a latch outside.
“Spare key?” Simran asked.
Billa replied, “Owner ke paas hoti hai. Safety ke liye.”
(The owner keeps it. For safety.)
“Hamari safety ya unki?”
(Our safety or his?)
Billa laughed awkwardly. “Madam ji, aap bahut sochti ho.”
(Madam, you think too much.)
Simran looked at Ravi.
“Tumne mujhse pooche bina haan kyun kar di?”
(Why did you say yes without asking me?)
Ravi frowned. “Haan kahan ki? Bas poocha kab start karegi.”
(When did I say yes? I only asked when she can start.)
“Main kaam karungi. Main rent bharungi. Main is ghar mein rahungi. Aur faisla tum karoge?”
(I will work. I will pay the rent. I will live in this house. And you will make the decision?)
“Main tumhare liye hi toh kar raha hoon.”
(I am doing this for you only.)
That line hit her harder than anger.
Because many men hurt women while believing they are protecting them.
Simran looked at the small room again.
Money was almost finished.
Hotel was unsafe.
Delhi was unknown.
Ravi was weak.
Billa was watching.
Arvind was waiting.
She had no good option.
Only bad options wearing different clothes.
Arvind appeared near the side path, pretending to look at the garden.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Simran answered slowly, “We will move today. Work starts tomorrow.”
Arvind nodded.
“Good decision.”
But his eyes said something else.
Good girl.
Step one.

---

The First Trap
When they walked back to collect their bags from Shanti Stay Rooms, Ravi was almost happy.
“Dekha? Bhagwan ne raasta khol diya.”
(See? God opened a path for us.)
Simran walked beside him, quiet.
“Tumne usko sab kyun bataya?”
(Why did you tell him everything?) she asked.
“Kisko?” (Who?)
“Owner ko.. Ghar se bhaagna. No family support.”
(The owner.  Running away from home. No family support.)
Ravi sighed. “Simran, trust karna padta hai. Without truth, kaun help karega?”
(Simran, we have to trust. Without truth, who will help?)
She stopped walking.
“Ravi, city mein truth bhi paisa hota hai. Galat aadmi ko de do, woh tumhe khareed leta hai.”
(Ravi, in the city, truth is also money. Give it to the wrong man, and he buys you with it.)
Ravi looked hurt. “Tum har kisi pe shak karti ho.”
(You doubt everyone.)
Simran’s voice softened. “Main shak nahi kar rahi. Main bach rahi hoon.”
(I am not doubting. I am surviving.)
But Ravi had already decided this was their chance.
And Simran, with only a few thousand rupees left and no one to call, had no better door to open.
That evening, they packed their bags.
By night, they moved into the outside room behind Arvind Malhotra’s house.
Simran placed her certificates inside the cupboard, then covered them with clothes. She checked the lock twice.
Ravi lay down, relieved.
“Ab sab theek ho jayega.”
(Now everything will be fine.) he said.
Simran did not answer.
Outside, somewhere in the garden, Billa laughed on the phone.
Inside the big house, Arvind stood near a window, watching the small room light turn off.
He had given them shelter.
He had learned their weakness.
And now, quietly, he began planning how to turn both into chains.

---

First Day At Work
Morning came pale and cold.
Simran woke before Ravi.
He was still sleeping, one arm over his face, as if the whole world had finally become peaceful.
For him, a room meant safety.
For Simran, a room meant four walls where nobody would hear her if something went wrong.
She washed her face, tied her hair, and wore a simple cream Punjabi suit. She pinned her dupatta carefully this time. Then she looked into the small mirror.
Her face looked tired.
Not just from sleep.
From decisions she never got to make.
“Dar mat,” she whispered to herself. “Bas aankhen khuli rakh.”
(Don’t be afraid. Just keep your eyes open.)
At 7 AM, she stepped into the main kitchen.
The kitchen was large, clean, and expensive. Steel containers lined the shelves. The fridge was full. There were fruits she had only seen in city stores. Everything had a place.
Everything except her.
Arvind entered quietly behind her.
“Good morning, Simran.”
She turned quickly.
He smiled. “Relax. This is your workplace now.”
Workplace.
The word sounded decent.
But his eyes were not decent.
He walked toward the counter.
“Breakfast simple. Poha, tea, and fruit. Lunch we will discuss.”
She nodded.
Billa appeared near the back door, holding garden scissors. His eyes again moved over her suit, her hands, her face.
“Pehla din mubarak, madam ji.”
(Congratulations on your first day, madam.) he said.
Simran ignored his tone and turned to the stove.
Ravi was still asleep in the outside room.
The man who had brought her here was sleeping.
The men who wanted to use her situation were awake.
And Simran understood, with cold clarity, that Delhi had not trapped her in one big moment.
It had done it slowly.
A bus ticket.
A hotel room.
A finished purse.
A weak lover.
A helpful stranger.
A rich owner.
A room behind a big house.
And now, a kitchen where every door had someone else’s key.
She lit the gas.
The flame rose blue and sharp.
Simran looked at it and made a silent promise.
If this house tried to burn her…
one day, she would learn how to burn it back.

[sarit11]

My dear writer

No need to mention caste.

[Hotgiri]

Dear writer,

Please add hot pic and gif to the story

[Pvzro]

Fantastic dear writer

Looks to be a great story going forward ,if possible put some armpits seductions also 

Keep the sex episodes only between the owner and simran and not billa 

Really looking forward for a great story ahead 

Keep regularly updating the story

Thank u so much

[zeus90]

My dear writer

No need to mention caste.

ok i will keep in mind i try to post more but it not. let me do that why?

[zeus90]

Chapter 2: The Tightening Grip

The first few days in Arvind Malhotra’s house passed quietly.

Not happily.

Just quietly.

Simran slowly learned the rhythm of the big house. Morning tea at seven. Breakfast by eight. Lunch preparation before noon. Evening tea at five. Dinner before nine.

The kitchen was large and clean, with steel containers lined in perfect rows and glass jars full of spices she did not know by name. At first, she moved around like a guest who was afraid to touch anything.

She asked small questions in a soft voice.

“Sir, yeh kaunsa masala hai?”
[Sir, which spice is this?]

“Chawal kitne banane hain?”
[How much rice should I cook?]

“Tea strong chahiye ya light?”
[Do you want strong tea or light tea?]

Arvind always answered calmly.

“Relax, Simran. Dheere-dheere seekh jaogi.”
[Relax, Simran. You will learn slowly.]

His voice was gentle, and because Simran had never lived away from home before, gentleness still looked like safety to her.

She was shy in the beginning. She kept her dupatta close, lowered her eyes when Billa passed near the back door, and smiled nervously whenever she made a small mistake. Once, the pressure cooker whistled loudly and she jumped back, almost dropping the spoon.

Billa laughed from the garden door.

“Arre madam ji, cooker se bhi darr lagta hai?”
[Madam, are you scared of even the pressure cooker?]

Simran gave a small embarrassed smile.

“Pehli baar itna bada kitchen sambhal rahi hoon.”
[I am handling such a big kitchen for the first time.]

Billa kept looking at her for a moment.

She lowered her face and returned to the stove.

Ravi left every morning to find work.

Sometimes he got one day of labour. Sometimes he got two. But every time, he came back with the same ending.

One shop owner said he was too slow.

One delivery man said he did not know the roads.

One contractor said he asked too many questions.

Another man told him, “Kaam se zyada tumhe samjhane mein time lagta hai.”
[It takes more time to explain the work to you than to get the work done.]

Ravi tried, but he always tried in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong confidence.

By evening, he returned tired, dusty, and smaller than he had been in the morning.

And slowly, Billa became his evening friend.

Not by chance.

By design.

Ten Days Later

Ten days passed.

Simran had begun to adjust to the house. She still moved softly, still asked before touching new things, still became nervous if Arvind’s relatives came without warning.

But now she knew where the rice was kept. She knew how Arvind liked his tea. She knew which cup was for guests and which plate was not to be used daily.

Small things.

Safe things.

Things that made her feel she was learning.

Ravi kept leaving in the morning and returning in the evening. Sometimes with money. Mostly with excuses. And recently, more often with the smell of cheap alcohol.

Billa had started buying him drinks after work.

“Thoda pee le, dimag halka ho jayega.”
[Drink a little, your mind will feel lighter.]

Ravi resisted at first.

Then less.

Then not at all.

Arvind wanted Simran to slowly depend on him for every small need.

That was enough for Billa to understand what had to be done.

The Cream Suit

Simran had only two Punjabi suits.

One cream.

One red.

She washed them by hand behind the outside room and hung them on a rope near the wall. Every night, she washed one and wore the other the next day.

The cream suit was her favorite. It made her look softer, almost peaceful. The red one was brighter, and she felt shy wearing it too often in the big house.

One afternoon, while Simran was busy making lunch, the cream suit was drying behind the room.

Billa walked past it once.

Then again.

The third time, he stopped.

He looked toward the kitchen window.

Simran was inside.

Ravi was out.

Arvind was nowhere near the back side of the house.

Billa pulled a small bottle from his pocket and tilted it over the hanging cloth.

A few drops fell.

Dark blue.

Almost black.

The stain spread into the cream fabric slowly, ugly and stubborn.

Billa stepped back, wiped his hand on his trousers, and walked away like nothing had happened.

By evening, Simran came to take the suit down.

Her face changed.

She held the cloth close to her eyes.

Then she rubbed the mark with water.

Nothing.

She used soap.

Still nothing.

She scrubbed harder until her fingers turned red.

The stain stayed.

Her lips pressed together. Her eyes became wet, but she did not cry.

She kept rubbing.

When Ravi came back, he smelled of alcohol again.

Simran stood near the small bathroom, holding the wet suit.

“Ravi, dekho na… yeh daag nikal hi nahi raha.”
[Ravi, look… this stain is not coming out.]

Ravi looked at the cloth with sleepy eyes.

“Kya gir gaya?”
[What fell on it?]

“Mujhe nahi pata. Maine toh yahin sukhaya tha.”
[I don’t know. I dried it right here.]

“Toh kal red wala pehen lena.”
[Then wear the red one tomorrow.]

Simran looked down at the stained fabric.

“Par red wala roz kaise pehnu? Aur yeh cream wala kharab ho gaya toh mere paas kuch nahi bachega.”
[But how can I wear the red one every day? And if this cream one is ruined, I won’t have anything left.]

Ravi sat on the bed and removed his shoes slowly.

“Main kal kuch karta hoon.”
[I will do something tomorrow.]

Simran looked at him with a soft, tired hope.

“Sach?”
[Really?]

“Haan, haan. Tum tension mat lo.”
[Yes, yes. Don’t worry.]

He lay down.

Within minutes, his breathing became heavy.

Simran stood there for a while, still holding the wet suit.

The bulb above her flickered once.

She looked at Ravi, then at the stain, then quietly hung the suit again.

The Next Morning

In the morning, Ravi left early.

He said he would find proper work today.

Simran wanted to ask about the suit, but he was already outside before she could finish tying her dupatta.

She wore the cream suit again because she had no choice.

The stain sat near the lower side of the kameez, dark and ugly. She tried to fold her dupatta in a way that covered it, but the cloth kept slipping while she worked.

In the kitchen, she moved carefully.

More carefully than usual.

She kept checking the mark.

When Arvind entered, she quickly straightened.

“Good morning, sir,” she said softly.

Arvind looked at the suit for a second.

“Simran, yeh suit pe daag hai?”
[Simran, is that a stain on your suit?]

Her face became warm.

“Ji sir… nikal nahi raha.”
[Yes, sir… it is not coming out.]

“Guests aate rehte hain ghar mein. Aise kapdon mein kaam karna theek nahi lagta.”
[Guests keep coming to the house. Working in clothes like this does not look proper.]

Simran lowered her eyes.

“Ji sir… main dhone ki koshish kar rahi thi.”
[Yes, sir… I was trying to wash it.]

“Try se nahi hoga.”
[Trying will not be enough.]

She held the edge of her dupatta in both hands.

“Sir… agar thoda advance mil jaye toh main ek suit le aaungi.”
[Sir… if I get a small advance, I will buy one suit.]

Arvind’s voice stayed soft.

“Advance ki zarurat nahi. Isse uniform samjho. Main le chalta hoon, payment main kar dunga.”
[No need for advance. Think of it as a uniform. I will take you, I will pay.]

Simran became unsure.

“Sir, main khud le aaungi.”
[Sir, I will buy it myself.]

“Delhi mein naye ho. Galat jagah paise waste ho jayenge.”
[You are new in Delhi. Your money will get wasted in the wrong place.]

She looked toward the back door, as if Ravi might appear and say something.

But Ravi was not there.

She gave a small nod.

“Ji… agar uniform ke liye hai toh theek hai.”
[Yes… if it is for uniform, then okay.]

“Good,” Arvind said.

He did not raise his voice.

He did not force her.

That was his way.

The rope tightened without sounding like a rope.

Billa And Ravi

That evening, before taking Simran to the shop, Arvind called Billa near the driveway.

“Ravi ko shaam tak bahar rakho.”
[Keep Ravi outside till evening.]

Billa smiled.

“Kaam dilaun ya glass?”
[Should I get him work or a glass?]

Arvind looked at him.

“Jo zyada asar kare.”
[Whatever works better.]

Billa laughed under his breath.

“Samajh gaya, sir.”
[I understand, sir.]

A few lanes away, Ravi was already sitting with him near a cheap drinking place.

Billa pushed a glass toward him.

“Pee le. Kaam ka tension kam hoga.”
[Drink. Your work tension will reduce.]

Ravi looked at the glass.

“Nahi, Simran ko achha nahi lagta.”
[No, Simran doesn’t like it.]

“Arre, tu aadmi hai ya bachcha?”
[Are you a man or a child?]

Ravi’s face tightened.

That one line was enough.

He picked up the glass.

Billa smiled.

The Shop

In the afternoon, Arvind took Simran to a clothing shop in the market.

The shop was not like the cheap stalls near the station. It had glass doors, bright lights, folded fabrics, mannequins, and salesmen who smiled before asking what you could afford.

Simran stepped inside slowly.

She had never been in such a shop before.

Her hands automatically moved to her dupatta.

The shopkeeper recognized Arvind immediately.

“Namaste, Malhotra ji.”
[Greetings, Mr. Malhotra.]

Arvind nodded.

“This is Simran. Ghar ke kaam ke liye suits chahiye. Decent, simple, light colors.”
[This is Simran. She needs suits for house work. Decent, simple, light colors.]

The shopkeeper looked at Simran.

“Madam, aapko kaunsa color pasand hai?”
[Madam, what color do you like?]

Simran looked surprised that someone was asking her choice.

She glanced at Arvind, then at the folded fabrics.

“White… aur baby pink,” she said softly.
[White… and baby pink.]

The shopkeeper pulled out white, baby pink, cream, and soft peach fabrics.

Simran touched the white cloth with two fingers, then pulled her hand back as if it was too expensive to touch.

“Yeh achha hai?” she asked quietly.
[Is this nice?]

Arvind smiled.

“Tumhe pasand hai toh achha hai.”
[If you like it, then it is nice.]

She gave a small shy smile.

For a moment, she almost felt normal.

Just a girl choosing clothes.

Not a woman being pushed deeper into someone else’s plan.

The shopkeeper said, “Measurement lena padega. Ladies tailor upar hai.”
[We need to take measurements. The ladies’ tailor is upstairs.]

Simran looked nervous.

“Upar?”
[Upstairs?]

“Ladies staff hai,” the shopkeeper said.
[There is female staff.]

Arvind spoke gently.

“Jao, normal process hai.”
[Go, it is a normal process.]

Simran nodded and followed a female staff member upstairs.

Her steps were slow.

She kept holding her dupatta like it was the last familiar thing she owned.

Downstairs

As soon as Simran went upstairs, Arvind’s face became still.

He turned to the shopkeeper and spoke in a low voice.

“Kapda halka rakhna. Soft material. Light colors. Fitting simple mat banana.”
[Keep the fabric light. Soft material. Light colors. Don’t make the fitting too plain.]

The shopkeeper looked at him carefully.

“Samajh gaya, sir.”
[I understand, sir.]

“Jo woh choose karegi, final mein thoda change kar dena. Usko pata nahi chalega.”
[Whatever she chooses, make a slight change in the final version. She won’t know.]

The shopkeeper nodded.

Arvind placed folded notes on the counter.

“Delivery kal subah mere ghar.”
[Delivery tomorrow morning at my house.]

The shopkeeper quietly moved the notes away.

“Ho jayega.”
[It will be done.]

Simran Returns

After some time, Simran came downstairs.

Her face was a little flushed from embarrassment. She stood near the counter and kept her dupatta close.

The shopkeeper smiled professionally.

“Madam, two suits final? White and baby pink?”
[Madam, two suits final? White and baby pink?]

Simran nodded.

“Ji.”
[Yes.]

Arvind looked at the fabrics.

“Ek extra bhi add kar do. Light color. Backup ke liye.”
[Add one extra too. Light color. For backup.]

Simran looked at him quickly.

“Sir, do kaafi hain.”
[Sir, two are enough.]

“Uniform hai. Ghar ke kaam mein kapde jaldi kharab hote hain.”
[It is uniform. Clothes get ruined quickly in house work.]

She did not argue.

She did not know how.

Then Arvind added, still speaking like it was ordinary, “Aur basic innerwear bhi add kar do. Work clothes ke saath zarurat padegi.”
[And add basic innerwear too. It will be needed with work clothes.]

Simran’s eyes widened.

Her face turned hot.

“Sir…” she said very softly.

The shopkeeper called a female staff member.

“Madam, aap inko size bata dijiye.”
[Madam, you can tell her the size.]

Simran stood frozen for a moment.

Nobody shouted.

Nobody touched her.

Nobody made it look wrong.

That made it harder for her to say no.

She leaned slightly toward the female staff member and whispered 32b.

The staff member wrote it down.

Simran’s eyes stayed on the floor.

Arvind looked at the bill.

“Deliver tomorrow morning,” he said.

The shopkeeper nodded.

“Ji, Malhotra ji.”
[Yes, Mr. Malhotra.]

Simran followed Arvind out of the shop.

The market was loud, but she felt quiet inside.

She could not explain why she felt embarrassed.

She could not explain why a simple shopping trip felt heavy.

She only knew that she wanted to go back to the outside room and close the door.

Back At The House

When they returned, Billa was standing near the gate.

His eyes went to the receipt in Arvind’s hand.

Then to Simran.

Then he smiled.

“Shopping ho gayi, madam ji?”
[Shopping done, madam?]

Simran gave a small nod and walked past him.

She did not look at his face.

In the kitchen, she started preparing dinner.

Her hands moved slowly.

The cream suit still had the stain.

The red suit was hanging behind the room.

The new clothes would arrive tomorrow.

Ravi came back late again.

He looked tired and loose, with dust on his shoes and alcohol in his breath.

Simran stood near the stove.

“Ravi, aaj sir mujhe suit lene le gaye the.”
[Ravi, today sir took me to buy suits.]

Ravi sat down on the small chair near the door.

“Achha kiya. Tumhe zarurat thi.”
[Good. You needed them.]

She waited for him to ask more.

He did not.

“Payment unhone ki.”
[He paid for them.]

Ravi rubbed his forehead.

“Phir theek hai na. Woh help kar rahe hain.”
[Then it is fine. He is helping.]

Simran looked at him.

Her mouth opened a little, like she wanted to say something.

But no words came.

Ravi had already closed the matter.

Like always.

A decision was made.

A cost would come later.

And Simran would be the one standing when it arrived.

That night, while Ravi slept, Simran sat on the edge of the bed and folded the stained cream suit carefully.

She did not know why she folded it.

It was ruined.

Still, she folded it with care.

Outside, the big house was silent.

Inside the main building, Arvind sat in his study, making a phone call.

Near the garden, Billa smoked in the dark and waited for whatever came next.

And in the small outside room, Simran held the ruined suit in her lap, feeling something tighten around her life.

Not suddenly.

Not loudly.

Slowly.

Like a grip that wanted her to get used to it before she realized it was there.

[zeus90]

Dear writer,

Please add hot pic and gif to the story

i tried but not let me post

[zeus90]

The Delivery

The next morning, Simran finished making breakfast quietly.

Poha, tea, fruit.

She placed everything on the dining table and stood to the side, waiting for Arvind to finish. Ravi had already gone out, saying he would try at one more factory near the main road. His voice had confidence in the morning, but Simran had started noticing that Ravi’s confidence usually disappeared by evening.

Arvind ate slowly.

He did not rush.

After breakfast, the doorbell rang.

Billa opened the gate.

A delivery boy stood outside with two neatly packed clothing bags from the shop.

“Malhotra ji ke naam delivery hai,” the boy said.
[There is a delivery in Mr. Malhotra’s name.]

Billa took the bags and looked inside before bringing them in. A small smile moved under his moustache.

He carried the bags to the dining area.

“Sir, kapde aa gaye,” Billa said.
[Sir, the clothes have arrived.]

Simran looked up from the tray in her hands.

Arvind wiped his fingers with a napkin and stood.

“Good. Simran, take these.”
[Good. Simran, take these.]

She stepped forward slowly.

The bags looked expensive in her hands. Too expensive for someone who still had not received her first salary.

“Sir, main baad mein rakh doon?” she asked softly.
[Sir, should I keep them for later?]

Arvind looked at her calmly.

“Nahi. Abhi change kar lo. Aaj se yahi pehenna hai.”
[No. Change now. From today, you will wear these.]

Simran blinked.

“Abhi?”
[Now?]

“Haan. Uniform hai. Work ke time proper rehna chahiye.”
[Yes. It is your uniform. You should look proper during work.]

She nodded hesitantly.

“Ji, sir.”
[Yes, sir.]

Billa stood near the side door, pretending to adjust the garden gloves in his hand.

His eyes followed the bag.

Then Simran.

The New Suit

Simran went to the outside room and closed the door.

She opened the bag carefully.

Inside was the white suit.

At first, it looked beautiful.

Soft fabric.

Light embroidery.

Neatly stitched sleeves.

She smiled a little.

For one second, she forgot the pressure in her chest. She touched the cloth with shy happiness. It had been a long time since something new belonged to her.

Then she lifted the kameez fully.

Her smile faded.

The neckline was much deeper than she had expected. The shoulders were cut wider than her usual suits. The fabric was lighter than the one she had chosen in the shop.

She looked at it for a long moment.

Then looked toward the closed door.

Maybe this was Delhi style, she thought faintly, though the thought did not stay clear in her head.

She changed slowly.

When she stood in front of the small mirror, her face turned hot.

The suit did not feel like her.

It sat on her body in a way that made her uncomfortable. The fabric was too light. The neckline felt too open. The dark innerwear showed through more than she expected, even though she tried adjusting the dupatta again and again.

She pulled the dupatta higher.

It slipped.

She pulled it again.

Her fingers became nervous.

“Yeh kaise pehnu?” she whispered to herself.
[How do I wear this?]

She tried pinning it differently.

Still, she felt exposed.

Not because she had chosen it.

Because someone else had changed the choice after she made it.

But Simran did not understand that fully yet.

She only felt embarrassed, confused, and trapped inside a new piece of cloth.

After a few minutes, Arvind’s voice came from outside the room.

“Simran? Time lag raha hai?”
[Simran? Is it taking time?]

She quickly grabbed the dupatta and opened the door.

In Front of Arvind

Simran stepped out slowly.

Her eyes were lowered. One hand held the dupatta near her shoulder, the other kept pulling at the side of the kameez.

Arvind stood near the garden path.

He looked at her once.

Only once.

Then he looked away like a decent man.

That made her even more confused.

“Sir…” she said softly, “yeh neck thoda…”
[Sir… this neckline is a little…]

Arvind turned toward her.

“Thoda kya?”
[A little what?]

She swallowed.

“Open lag raha hai.”
[It feels open.]

Arvind smiled lightly.

“Simran, tum gaon wali habit se dekh rahi ho. Delhi mein yeh normal hai.”
[Simran, you are looking at it with village habits. In Delhi, this is normal.]

She kept her eyes down.

“Par mujhe ajeeb lag raha hai.”
[But I feel strange.]

“Ajeeb isliye lag raha hai kyunki pehli baar pehna hai.”
[It feels strange because you are wearing it for the first time.]

She adjusted the dupatta again.

“Main dupatta pin kar loon?”
[Should I pin the dupatta?]

“Pin kar lo, lekin kaam karte waqt baar-baar sambhalna mushkil hoga.”
[You can pin it, but while working it will be difficult to keep adjusting it.]

Simran looked unsure.

Arvind’s voice became softer.

“Tumhe comfortable hona seekhna padega. Ghar ka kaam karna hai, guests bhi aate hain. Kapde neat hone chahiye. Itna sharmane se kaise chalega?”
[You will have to learn to be comfortable. You have to work in the house, guests also come. Clothes should be neat. How will it work if you feel shy about everything?]

Simran’s cheeks warmed.

“Ji sir… main try karungi.”
[Yes sir… I will try.]

“Good girl,” Arvind said.

The words were quiet.

But they sat strangely on her skin.

She did not know why.

Billa At The Back

Simran turned toward the kitchen.

As she passed the back corridor, she felt someone’s presence near the garden door.

Billa was outside, half-hidden behind the side wall, holding a pipe in his hand.

He was not watering anything.

He looked away quickly when she noticed him.

“Madam ji, naya suit?” he said with a crooked smile.
[Madam, new suit?]

Simran stopped for a second.

Her fingers tightened on the dupatta.

“Ji,” she said quietly.
[Yes.]

“Achha hai. Malhotra ji ka taste bada mehenga hai.”
[It is nice. Mr. Malhotra has expensive taste.]

She did not answer.

She walked into the kitchen faster than usual.

Behind her, Billa kept watching from the garden side, pretending to fix a plant pot.

The house had many doors.

But today, every door felt like an eye.

Getting Used To It

In the kitchen, Simran tried to work normally.

She washed cups.

Cut vegetables.

Wiped the counter.

But every few minutes, her hand went to her dupatta.

She kept checking the neckline, then the fabric, then the door.

Arvind came in with an empty cup.

“Tea bana dogi?”
[Will you make tea?]

“Ji, sir.”
[Yes, sir.]

She turned to the stove.

While pouring water into the pan, her dupatta slipped slightly from her shoulder. She quickly caught it.

Arvind noticed her nervous movement.

“Simran,” he said gently.

She turned.

“Ji?”
[Yes?]

“Work pe dhyan do. Kapdon pe nahi.”
[Focus on work, not on clothes.]

She looked embarrassed.

“Sorry, sir.”
[Sorry, sir.]

“Sorry ki zarurat nahi. Bas aadat daalni padegi.”
[No need to say sorry. You just have to get used to it.]

She nodded.

But her hands did not stop feeling shaky.

Arvind placed the cup on the counter.

“Kal se second suit bhi try kar lena. Pink wala.”
[Try the second suit from tomorrow too. The pink one.]

Simran looked up quickly.

“Woh bhi aisa hi hai?”
[Is that also like this?]

Arvind paused, then smiled.

“Better hai. Tum par achha lagega.”
[It is better. It will look good on you.]

She did not know what to say.

So she only lowered her eyes.

“Ji.”
[Yes.]

Ravi Returns Late

That evening, Ravi returned later than usual.

He looked tired again, his shirt dusty, his mood broken. There was also a faint smell of alcohol on his breath.

Simran was in the kitchen when he came near the back side.

He looked at her new suit.

For a moment, his face changed.

“Yeh naya suit hai?”
[Is this the new suit?]

Simran held her dupatta.

“Haan… shop se aaya tha subah.”
[Yes… it came from the shop in the morning.]

Ravi looked at her, then at the floor.

“Achha hai.”
[It is nice.]

She waited.

Maybe he would notice she was uncomfortable.

Maybe he would ask who changed the design.

Maybe he would say she did not have to wear it.

But Ravi only rubbed his forehead.

“Sir ne payment ki na?”
[Sir paid for it, right?]

Simran nodded slowly.

“Ji.”
[Yes.]

“Phir theek hai. Waise bhi tumhe kapdon ki zarurat thi.”
[Then it is fine. Anyway, you needed clothes.]

Her face became still.

He had closed the matter again.

Like always.

A decision happened around her.

A discomfort sat on her body.

And Ravi saw only the bill being paid.

Night

Later, when the dinner was done and the kitchen was cleaned, Simran went back to the outside room.

She changed out of the white suit carefully and folded it.

Then she looked at it for a long time.

It was new.

It was beautiful.

It was not hers.

Ravi lay on the bed, almost asleep.

“Light band kar do,” he murmured.
[Turn off the light.]

Simran put the suit in the cupboard.

Her fingers stayed on the fabric for a second.

She did not understand the full game yet.

She only knew that since coming to this house, things were slowly being decided for her.

Where she lived.

When she worked.

What she wore.

Who paid.

Who stayed silent.

Outside, the garden was dark.

Billa coughed somewhere near the side wall.

Inside the main house, Arvind’s study light was still on.

Simran turned off the bulb and lay down beside Ravi.

The room became dark.

But sleep did not come quickly.

The new suit sat in the cupboard like a quiet warning.

[Pvzro]

Wonderful slow seduction 

Superb keep updating regularly and don't forget to put armpits episodes

[Hotgiri]

Hey, very good and erotic story, could you please add hot pics and gif for sex scenes, it will spice up story and all reader will like it

[Pvzro]

Update dear writer !!!

[balamurali]

Nice plot keep going

[Hotgiri]

Please add hot pics or gif to make the story more seductive and hot

[Pvzro]

Can't wait to read it excellent

[zeus90]

# Chapter 3: A Job for Ravi, A Cage for Simran

The new suits arrived, the new routine began, and the house started changing shape around Simran.

Not the walls.

Not the rooms.

Only the rules.

At first, she did not notice.

She only felt more tired.

Morning tea. Breakfast. Cleaning the kitchen. Lunch. Washing utensils. Evening tea. Dinner. Sometimes Arvind asked for tea again after dinner. Sometimes guests came suddenly, and Simran had to serve snacks with lowered eyes while Billa moved around the back door like a shadow that enjoyed being seen.

Ravi was still at home most of the day now.

Not because he wanted to be.

Because every job he touched slipped away.

One morning he went to help at a shop. By afternoon, the owner sent him back.

Next day, someone gave him loading work. He came home with pain in his back and never went again.

Then he tried delivery work. He forgot one address, took too long at another, and argued when the supervisor scolded him.

By evening, he returned angry.

“Sabko expert chahiye,” he muttered.
*[Everyone wants an expert.]*

Simran was kneading dough in the small outside room.

She looked at him softly. “Tum seekh jaoge, Ravi.”
*[You will learn, Ravi.]*

“Seekhne ka time kaun deta hai?” he snapped.
*[Who gives time to learn?]*

She became quiet.

That was happening more often now.

Ravi spoke loudly.

Simran went silent.

Then the silence sat between them and ate whatever love was left on the plate.

---

## Ravi Slips

Billa made it worse.

Every evening, when Ravi returned empty-handed, Billa was there near the side gate or outside the lane, waiting with a cheap smile and cheaper comfort.

“Chal, thoda baithte hain.”
*[Come, let’s sit for a while.]*

Ravi refused at first.

“Nahi, ghar jaana hai.”
*[No, I have to go home.]*

“Ghar jaa ke kya karega? Biwi ke saamne phir muh latka ke baithega?”
*[What will you do at home? Sit with a sad face in front of your wife again?]*

Ravi’s jaw tightened.

Billa placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Aadmi ko dard andar nahi rakhna chahiye. Thoda peene se dimag halka hota hai.”
*[A man should not keep pain inside. Drinking a little makes the mind feel lighter.]*

A little became every few days.

Every few days became every evening.

Ravi did not become violent. Not yet. But he became loose, careless, irritated. He slept late, woke late, missed morning chances, then blamed the city.

Simran watched him from the doorway of the outside room.

Sometimes he came back smelling of alcohol and lay down without eating.

Sometimes he ate and complained.

“Sab tumhare liye kar raha hoon.”
*[I am doing everything for you.]*

Simran would lower her eyes.

“Haan, Ravi.”
*[Yes, Ravi.]*

But her voice had begun to sound tired even to herself.

---

## Desperation

One morning, Ravi was still sleeping after drinking the night before.

The sun had risen, but he had not.

Simran had already finished breakfast for Arvind. She washed the cups with slow hands. Her eyes were swollen from poor sleep.

Arvind entered the kitchen and stopped near the counter.

“Simran, sab theek hai?”
*[Simran, is everything okay?]*

She quickly wiped her hands on her dupatta.

“Ji sir, theek hai.”
*[Yes sir, everything is okay.]*

He looked at her face.

“Tum thaki hui lag rahi ho.”
*[You look tired.]*

She gave a small nervous smile.

“Nahi sir, bas neend kam hui.”
*[No sir, I just slept less.]*

Arvind did not speak for a moment.

That silence made her eyes fill before she could stop them.

She turned away quickly and picked up a cup that was already clean.

“Simran,” Arvind said softly, “koi problem hai toh bata sakti ho.”
*[Simran, if there is any problem, you can tell me.]*

The cup trembled slightly in her hand.

She placed it down.

“Sir…” Her voice was small. “Ravi ka kaam nahi tik raha.”
*[Sir… Ravi’s work is not lasting.]*

Arvind stayed quiet.

She continued, her words coming slowly, like each one had to push through shame.

“Woh koshish karta hai, par log nikal dete hain. Phir woh pareshan ho jata hai. Shaam ko… Billa ke saath baith jata hai.”
*[He tries, but people remove him. Then he gets upset. In the evening… he sits with Billa.]*

Arvind’s face remained gentle.

Simran pressed her fingers together.

“Sir, agar aap kisi se baat kar sakte ho… koi simple kaam… jahan woh seekh sake…”
*[Sir, if you can speak to someone… some simple work… where he can learn…]*

She looked down.

“Main aapse baar-baar help nahi maangna chahti. Par mujhe samajh nahi aa raha main kya karun.”
*[I don’t want to ask you for help again and again. But I don’t understand what I should do.]*

Her eyes lowered more.

“Bas ek kaam lag jaye uska. Shayad woh theek ho jayega.”
*[If he just gets one job. Maybe he will become okay.]*

For Simran, it was a desperate request.

For Arvind, it was an open door.

He walked to the window and looked outside as if thinking deeply.

“I will try,” he said.
*[I will try.]*

Simran looked up quickly.

“Sach, sir?”
*[Really, sir?]*

“Haan. Ek jagah hai. Farm side ka kaam hai. Easy nahi, lekin seekhne layak hai.”
*[Yes. There is one place. Farm-side work. It is not easy, but it can be learned.]*

She listened with hope rising too fast.

“Milk production ka kaam hai. Cows, milk collection, cans fill karna, trucks load karna. Timing raat ki hai.”
*[It is milk production work. Cows, milk collection, filling cans, loading trucks. The timing is at night.]*

Simran did not think about the night.

She only heard work.

Stable work.

A chance.

“Salary?” she asked softly.
*[Salary?]*

“Starting ₹7,000. Usko kaam nahi aata, isliye pehle learning period hoga. Agar seekh gaya toh increase ho sakti hai.”
*[Starting ₹7,000. He doesn’t know the work, so first it will be a learning period. If he learns, it can increase.]*

Simran nodded quickly.

“Sir, main usko samjha dungi. Woh kar lega.”
*[Sir, I will explain it to him. He will do it.]*

Arvind looked at her.

“Tum chaho toh main baat pakki kar doon.”
*[If you want, I can confirm it.]*

“Ji sir. Please.”
*[Yes sir. Please.]*

The word came out before pride could stop it.

“Please.”

Arvind gave a small nod.

“Okay. Tonight se nahi, kal se start karwa dete hain.”
*[Okay. Not from tonight, we will start him from tomorrow.]*

Simran’s face softened with relief.

For the first time in many days, she smiled without forcing it.

“Thank you, sir.”
*[Thank you, sir.]*

Arvind’s smile was calm.

“Tum log apne ho.”
*[You people are like my own.]*

Simran believed it because she needed to.

---

## Telling Ravi

Ravi woke near afternoon.

His hair was messy, his eyes heavy. He sat on the bed while Simran placed food in front of him.

“Khane ke baad ek baat karni hai,” she said.
*[After food, I need to talk about something.]*

Ravi tore the roti lazily.

“Ab kya hua?”
*[What happened now?]*

“Sir ne tumhare liye kaam dhoondha hai.”
*[Sir found work for you.]*

Ravi stopped chewing.

“Kaunsa kaam?”
*[What work?]*

“Farm ka. Milk production. Cow milk collection, cans fill karna, trucks mein load karna. Raat ka kaam hai.”
*[Farm work. Milk production. Cow milk collection, filling cans, loading them into trucks. It is night work.]*

Ravi’s face changed.

“Raat ka?”
*[At night?]*

“Haan.”
*[Yes.]*

“Timing?”
*[Timing?]*

“Six evening se eight morning.”
*[Six in the evening to eight in the morning.]*

Ravi put the roti down.

“Pagal ho kya? Puri raat kaam?”
*[Are you mad? Work all night?]*

Simran sat beside him carefully.

“Ravi, kaam mil raha hai. Itni mushkil se.”
*[Ravi, you are getting work. After so much difficulty.]*

“Salary?”
*[Salary?]*

“Starting ₹7,000.”
*[Starting ₹7,000.]*

Ravi laughed bitterly.

“Puri raat jag ke ₹7,000?”
*[Staying awake all night for ₹7,000?]*

Simran’s face fell, but she kept her voice soft.

“Tumhe kaam nahi aata na. Sir keh rahe the seekh jaoge toh badh sakta hai.”
*[You don’t know the work yet. Sir said if you learn, it can increase.]*

Ravi looked away.

“Main cow ka doodh bharunga? Truck load karunga? Yeh kaam hai mere liye?”
*[I will fill cow milk? Load trucks? Is this work for me?]*

Simran’s eyes became wet.

“Ravi, hamare paas choice hai kya?”
*[Ravi, do we have a choice?]*

He did not answer.

She moved closer.

“Tum roz pareshan hote ho. Log nikal dete hain. Phir tum Billa ke saath baithte ho. Mujhe darr lagta hai.”
*[You get upset every day. People fire you. Then you sit with Billa. I feel scared.]*

Ravi’s face tightened.

“Billa ne kya kiya?”
*[What has Billa done?]*

“Main bas keh rahi hoon… tum kaam pe jaoge toh tumhara mind bhi theek rahega.”
*[I am just saying… if you go to work, your mind will also stay better.]*

Ravi looked at her.

She folded her hands together in her lap.

“Please Ravi. Ek baar try kar lo. Mere liye.”
*[Please Ravi. Try once. For me.]*

That line touched him.

Not fully.

But enough.

He looked away again, softer now.

“Tum chahti ho main karun?”
*[You want me to do it?]*

Simran nodded.

“Haan. Main chahti hoon tum stable ho jao.”
*[Yes. I want you to become stable.]*

Ravi took a slow breath.

“Theek hai. Ek baar try karunga.”
*[Fine. I will try once.]*

Simran’s face relaxed.

She smiled a little.

“Thank you.”
*[Thank you.]*

Ravi picked up the roti again.

He did not see that while he thought he had agreed for her, she believed she had saved him.

Both were wrong in different ways.

---

## Billa Plants A Seed

That evening, Billa found Ravi near the side gate.

“So suna hai kaam lag gaya?”
*[So I heard you got work?]*

Ravi tried not to smile, but pride slipped out.

“Haan. Farm side. Milk production.”
*[Yes. Farm side. Milk production.]*

“Timing?”
*[Timing?]*

“Six evening to eight morning.”
*[Six evening to eight morning.]*

Billa whistled softly.

“Wah bhai. Puri raat tu bahar, aur madam ji yahan.”
*[Wow brother. You outside the whole night, and madam here.]*

Ravi looked at him.

“Kya matlab?”
*[What do you mean?]*

Billa shrugged.

“Matlab kuch nahi. Bas keh raha hoon. Bade logon ke ghar mein raat alag hoti hai.”
*[Nothing. I am just saying. Nights are different in rich people’s houses.]*

Ravi’s forehead tightened.

“Seedha bol.”
*[Speak clearly.]*

Billa laughed.

“Arre tu bhi na. Main toh mazaak kar raha hoon. Waise job kisne dilaya?”
*[Come on. I’m joking. Anyway, who got you the job?]*

“Sir ne.”
*[Sir did.]*

“Simran ne bola hoga?”
*[Simran must have asked?]*

Ravi paused.

“Haan. Usne help maangi thi.”
*[Yes. She asked for help.]*

Billa gave a slow nod.

“Achha hai. Biwi samajhdar hai. Tere liye kaam bhi dhoondh leti hai. Aur tujhe raat ko bahar bhi bhej deti hai.”
*[Good. Your wife is clever. She finds work for you. And sends you out at night too.]*

Ravi’s eyes changed slightly.

Only slightly.

“Tu galat bol raha hai,” Ravi said.
*[You are talking wrong.]*

Billa lifted both hands.

“Arre bhai, mazaak tha. Gussa kyun hota hai? Main toh khush hoon tere liye. Finally kaam mila.”
*[Brother, it was a joke. Why are you getting angry? I am happy for you. Finally you got work.]*

Ravi nodded, but the words had already entered somewhere small and dark.

Not enough to break him.

Enough to sit in the back of his mind.

Billa watched him leave and smiled.

Seeds did not need water immediately.

Some seeds waited for the next rain.

---

## The First Night

The next evening, Ravi got ready for his first shift.

He wore his old shirt and washed jeans. Simran packed two rotis, some sabzi, and an onion in a small steel box.

“Time pe khana,” she said.
*[Eat on time.]*

Ravi took the box.

“Tum bhi time pe kha lena.”
*[You also eat on time.]*

She smiled.

For a moment, they looked like husband and wife again.

Then he looked toward the main house.

“Sir se mil ke jaaun?”
*[Should I meet sir before leaving?]*

Simran nodded.

Arvind came out to the verandah.

“Ready?” he asked.
*[Ready?]*

Ravi stood straighter.

“Ji sir.”
*[Yes sir.]*

“Kaam simple hai, but laziness nahi chalegi. Cow shed mein milk collection hota hai. Cans fill honge. Subah trucks dispatch honge. Pehle kuch din seekhna. Jo bolein, karna.”
*[The work is simple, but laziness won’t work. Milk collection happens in the cow shed. Cans will be filled. Trucks will be dispatched in the morning. Learn for the first few days. Do whatever they tell you.]*

Ravi nodded quickly.

“Ji sir.”
*[Yes sir.]*

Simran stood behind him, hopeful.

Arvind looked at her briefly.

“Don’t worry. Ravi ab busy rahega. Drinking bhi kam ho jayegi.”
*[Don’t worry. Ravi will stay busy now. His drinking will also reduce.]*

Simran gave a small grateful smile.

“Ji sir. Aapne bahut help ki.”
*[Yes sir. You helped a lot.]*

At six, Ravi left.

The gate closed behind him.

For the first time, Simran stood in the house after sunset without Ravi nearby.

She did not feel afraid yet.

Only strange.

Like the evening had become too big.

---

## Day And Night

Within a week, their lives stopped meeting properly.

Ravi left at 6 PM.

Simran worked until late evening.

Ravi returned around 8:30 AM, smelling of cow shed, sweat, milk, and tiredness. His eyes were red from staying awake.

Simran served him breakfast in the outside room before going back to the kitchen.

That became their only real conversation.

A plate between them.

A tired man on the bed.

A woman standing near the door, already late for work.

One morning, she placed paratha and tea in front of him.

“Kaam kaisa chal raha hai?”
*[How is the work going?]*

Ravi rubbed his eyes.

“Theek hai. Raat bhar cans uthao, bharvao, truck mein lagao. Subah tak kamar toot jaati hai.”
*[It’s okay. All night, lift cans, get them filled, load them into trucks. By morning, my back breaks.]*

“Seekh rahe ho na?”
*[You are learning, right?]*

“Haan.”
*[Yes.]*

She smiled softly.

“Phir salary badh jayegi.”
*[Then your salary will increase.]*

Ravi looked at her.

“Tumhe salary ki hi padi rehti hai?”
*[You only care about salary?]*

Simran’s smile faded.

“Nahi Ravi. Main bas…”
*[No Ravi. I just…]*

He lay back.

“Main poori raat jag ke aaya hoon. Abhi mat shuru ho.”
*[I stayed awake the whole night. Don’t start now.]*

She became quiet.

“Chai rakh di hai,” she said softly.
*[I kept the tea here.]*

Then she left.

He slept.

She worked.

At noon, when she came back to take the empty plate, Ravi was still sleeping.

At evening, when he woke, she was in the main kitchen.

Before they could talk, it was time for him to leave again.

Their room still had one bed.

But now it felt like two separate lives were using it at different times.

---

## More Work

With Ravi gone at night, Arvind slowly stretched Simran’s duties.

Not suddenly.

Never suddenly.

One evening, after dinner, he called from the study.

“Simran, ek chai bana dogi?”
*[Simran, will you make one tea?]*

She had just finished cleaning the kitchen.

“Ji sir.”
*[Yes sir.]*

The next night, tea became normal.

Then late snacks.

Then cleaning the dining table after Arvind’s friends left.

Then washing glasses that were not part of her daily work.

When she looked tired, Arvind spoke gently.

“Ravi ka kaam lag gaya hai. Thoda time adjust karna padega.”
*[Ravi got work now. You will have to adjust a little for some time.]*

She nodded.

“Ji sir.”
*[Yes sir.]*

The word “adjust” became a small cage.

Everybody used it.

Arvind used it with softness.

Billa used it with a smile.

Ravi used it with tiredness.

And Simran kept adjusting until she forgot where her own comfort had been placed.

---

## Billa’s New Game

Billa did not stop.

He only changed method.

Now that Ravi was away at night and asleep in the day, Billa had more space to make Simran’s work harder.

He splashed mud near the back door after she cleaned it.

He left garden tools in the corridor and complained she had not arranged them.

He told Arvind the kitchen back area smelled bad.

Once, he put extra salt into the dal when Simran stepped out to take clothes from the rope.

At dinner, Arvind took one bite and stopped.

“Simran, dal mein namak zyada hai.”
*[Simran, there is too much salt in the dal.]*

Her face became pale.

“Sir, maine toh…”
*[Sir, I had…]*

She stopped.

Billa stood near the back door, looking down, hiding a smile.

Simran held the serving spoon with both hands.

“Sorry sir. Main dhyan rakhungi.”
*[Sorry sir. I will be careful.]*

Arvind did not scold.

That was worse.

“It’s okay. Mistakes happen.”
*[It’s okay. Mistakes happen.]*

His softness made her feel smaller than anger would have.

Later, Billa passed her near the washing area.

“Madam ji, bade ghar ka kaam hai. Dhyan se karna padta hai.”
*[Madam, this is work in a big house. You have to be careful.]*

Simran only nodded and moved aside.

She did not know how to fight such small cruelties.

They were too tiny to complain about.

Too many to ignore.

---

## Distance

After two weeks, Ravi’s drinking had reduced.

But Simran did not feel relieved.

The alcohol had gone down.

The distance had gone up.

Ravi now had a reason for everything.

If she wanted to talk, he was tired.

If she looked sad, he said she was overthinking.

If she complained about work, he said at least they had a roof.

If she said Billa made her uncomfortable, he said Billa had helped them.

One morning, while serving him food, she tried again.

“Ravi, mujhe raat ko ajeeb lagta hai.”
*[Ravi, I feel strange at night.]*

He was half asleep.

“Kya ajeeb?”
*[What strange?]*

“Ghar mein… sir late tak jagte hain. Billa bhi kabhi-kabhi peeche hota hai.”
*[In the house… sir stays awake late. Billa is also sometimes at the back.]*

Ravi opened his eyes with irritation.

“Toh main job chhod doon?”
*[So should I leave the job?]*

“Nahi, main bas keh rahi thi…”
*[No, I was just saying…]*

“Simran, tumne hi bola tha karne ke liye.”
*[Simran, you were the one who told me to do it.]*

She stopped.

He was right.

And that made it hurt more.

“Haan,” she said softly. “Maine hi bola tha.”
*[Yes. I was the one who said it.]*

Ravi turned to the wall.

“Light band kar dena.”
*[Turn off the light.]*

Simran stood there with the plate in her hand.

The room was small.

But the distance between them had become too wide to cross.

---

## Arvind’s Calm

That evening, Arvind found her wiping the kitchen counter long after it was already clean.

“Simran,” he said.

She turned.

“Ji sir?”
*[Yes sir?]*

“Thak gayi ho?”
*[Are you tired?]*

She gave a small smile.

“Nahi sir.”
*[No sir.]*

“Jhooth.”
*[Lie.]*

She looked down, embarrassed.

Arvind spoke softly.

“Ravi ka kaam difficult hai. Tumhara bhi. Lekin yeh phase nikal jayega.”
*[Ravi’s work is difficult. Yours too. But this phase will pass.]*

Her eyes filled again, but she blinked quickly.

“Sir, main bas chahti hoon sab theek ho jaye.”
*[Sir, I just want everything to become okay.]*

“It will,” Arvind said. “Main hoon na.”
*[It will. I am here.]*

The sentence sounded like support.

It should have comforted her.

Instead, it sat in the room like a door closing quietly.

Simran nodded.

“Ji sir.”
*[Yes sir.]*

Outside, Ravi was walking somewhere in the dark toward the milk farm.

Inside, Billa was waiting near the back gate, already planning tomorrow’s small trouble.

And Arvind stood in the kitchen, calm as ever, becoming the one person Simran had started asking for help.

That was the cleverest part of the trap.

It did not look like a trap.

It looked like help.

[zeus90]

Please add hot pics or gif to make the story more seductive and hot

did not have permission for post pic i tried

[zeus90]

Hey, very good and erotic story, could you please add hot pics and gif for sex scenes, it will spice up story and all reader will like it

i try but it not allowed or not have permission

[Pvzro]

Fantastic so much life in the story

Really great to see and read stories regularly with your updates coming regularly 

Seems to be a superhit story

All the best keep writing my dear writer

[Pvzro]

Waiting for the update....

[zeus90]

 

 
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