Mayank’s POV

Ever since the formalities dropped between us… everything changed.

I don’t knock on her door.

And today — she didn’t even bother closing bathrom door it was wide open.

Steam rising from the bucket, her blouse already half undone, hair tied in a loose bun with strands sticking to the back of her neck.

She looked at me once — just once — when I entered.

But she didn’t flinch, Didn’t hide, Didn’t say anything.

Instead, she moved a little to the side and said softly, "Thoda paani aur garam kar dijiye."

That was it.

And that was all the permission I needed.

I added the hot water, removed my clothes, and sat beside her.

She poured water over my hands. I poured some on her back.

We didn’t talk.

Only exchanged looks.

Only shared silence and touch.

Her fingers brushed against my thigh as she reached for the soap.

I gently rubbed her shoulder when she asked me to.

And when the soap slipped from her hand into the bucket, we both laughed like children — naked, quiet, half in love and half unsure how this had become our reality.

By the end of it, I wiped her back with the end of my towel, and she patted my hair dry like I was a boy again.

Just skin, steam, and the kind of closeness no one teaches you,I never thought bathing together could feel more intimate than making love.

But it did.

I couldn’t focus all day.

Her wet hair, the smell of her skin, the way she pressed the towel against my chest like she belonged there — it kept playing in my head like a stuck radio.

I scribbled something in the ledger, tore it, wrote it again.

Useless.

Even chai tasted different today. Sweet, but not like her.

That’s when one of the labourers came up to me, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Sahab… aaj jaldi ja sakta hoon?”

I looked up from my distracted thoughts. “Kyun?”

“Aaj gaon mein mela laga hai… bachchon ko leke jaana hai.”

“Mela?” I asked, almost surprised.

“Haan… poore saal mein ek baar lagta hai. Bada sundar hota hai.”

I looked at the clock, then back at the half-done books on my table.

“Theek hai… jao,” I nodded, and stood up myself.

Screw the ledger. I packed up early, shut the shop, and kicked the bike to life.

I was going to take her out.

Let the whole damn village watch.

Let her laugh in public for once.

"Aaj phir se jaldi aa gaya?" Maa said from the courtyard.

"Haan..." I nodded.

I looked around and found her sitting in her room, folding clothes. She looked up, surprised.

"Arre, aap jaldi..." she started, but I placed a finger on her lips.

"Jaldi se taiyaar ho jao. Gaon mein mela laga hai. Hum ja rahe hain."

"Par Maa..." she hesitated.

"Wo sambhal lunga," I said simply, and walked out.

"Maa, suniye… wo sabzi lene jaana hai. Aur bhi rashan lana hai toh main apne saath Nitya ko bhi le jaunga," I said casually.

"Bhabhi bola kar," she corrected, not even looking up.

"Haan haan, bhabhi," I replied, sitting down near her cot.

"Aaj kal zyada baatein hone lagi hain tum dono ki?," she muttered.

"Haan toh… ek hi ghar mein rehte hain, baat toh hogi hi," I said with a shrug.

"Wo rishte mein badi hai tujhse… maan rakha kar," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Main umar mein bada hoon," I replied with a smile.

"Maya—" she was about to say more when Nitya came out of the room.

Dressed in the pink saree.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

The one I had bought for her, still with soft creases from how long it had stayed untouched in that drawer.

"Ye kya pehna hai! Sabzi lene ja rahe ho ya apni shaadi mein?" Maa snapped, glaring. "Ja, badal ke aa—"

But neither of us paid her any attention.

"Achi lag rahi ho," I said, then looked at Maa. "Bhabhi."

"Wo… bohot samay se rakhi thi, toh socha aaj pehen lun," she said, eyes stealing a glance at me.

"Chalo, late ho raha hai," I said, standing up.

"Arre arre—" Maa started again, but we had already walked out, not even slowing down.

"Maaji daanteingi," she whispered beside me.

"Toh sunn lena. Main bhi toh sunta hoon," I said and kicked the bike.

"Ek second," she said, and reached up to her neck.

She removed her mangalsutra slowly and placed it in my hand. I slipped it into my pocket without saying a word.

"Hume iska wazan aur nahi chahiye apne upar," she said, softly but surely, and sat behind me.

"Chalein?" I asked.

"Haan," she nodded.

She sat behind me on the bike, her hands wrapped around my waist, her cheek resting lightly against my back.

Neither of us said a word.

And yet, there was so much being spoken in that silence.

The road was bumpy, patched with dry leaves, cattle prints, and the occasional plastic wrapper.

Every now and then, I felt her fingers tighten around my shirt — not out of fear, but something else.

Something tender. Something like… wanting to stay close.

I looked at our shadows stretching long across the dusty path, her dupatta fluttering behind us like a whisper.

Her touch wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

That small weight of her head on my shoulder — it said everything.

The entrance of the mela was lit up with strings of fairy lights and hanging marigolds.

Drums echoed in the distance, kids screamed on rides, and smoke rose from stalls selling pakoras and jalebis.

We stepped in together, her hand still resting on my back as we walked.

I didn’t say anything.

I just watched her face — how her eyes lit up at the colors, how she smiled when a little girl tugged her saree by mistake, how her fingers found mine when the crowd got too close.

"Thak jaogi," I said.

"Main rukungi toh thak jaungi," she replied, and pulled me forward.

We stopped at a bangle stall — red, green, golden glass ones stacked like sugar candy.

She touched a pink one.

I picked it up and gently held her hand.

"Ye lelo," I said, sliding it onto her wrist.

People were walking around us, the seller was still babbling prices — but in that second, she only looked at me.

I pulled her hand close, pretended to adjust the bangle — but let my thumb brush her inner wrist.

She inhaled sharply.

"Chalein?" I asked, not letting go of her hand.

She nodded.

Next was the chaat stall — spicy, hot, dripping with imli chutney.

She fed me the first bite.

"Zyada teekha hai na?" she asked, but I was looking at the smear of chutney at the edge of her lips.

"Ruko," I said, leaning in.

My thumb grazed her lower lip as I wiped it slowly, letting my fingers linger just a moment too long.

Her cheeks turned red.

"kya kar rahe hain…sab dekh rahe hain," she muttered.

"dekhne do" I smiled.

We walked further in — into a quieter lane where the lights dimmed, and the stalls were sparse.

She adjusted her saree pleats, and I reached forward — gently tugging the pallu over her shoulder.

She froze.

"Loosening it again and again won't help. Wind is strong," I said, but my hand brushed the bare skin of her back before I stepped away.

Next..We reached the giant Ferris wheel just as the last streaks of sunlight dipped below the fields.

The lights blinked in pink, yellow, and white — spinning slowly, like a lullaby in motion. The seat shook slightly as we climbed in, and the metal bar came down with a heavy click.

"Thoda darr lagta hai," she whispered.

"Main hoon na," I said.

The wheel jerked, and we began rising — slowly, steadily, until the crowd below turned into a blur of lights and shadows.

The wind hit us hard at the top. Her hair blew across her face. She held my hand tightly, fingers digging into my palm.

"Neeche mat dekho," I said, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath.

She looked at me.

Not down.

Not scared anymore.

Just… me.

"Tum bohot sundar ho," I said, softly.

Her eyes softened.

"Waise toh aap roz bolte ho…" she said, pretending to look away.

"Roz mehsoos karwata hoon. Aaj bola hai," I replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

The wheel stopped for a moment at the very top.

Stillness.

Stars beginning to appear.

No noise. Just her breath. My heartbeat.

And her lips — parted, unsure, tempting.

I leaned in slowly.

She didn’t move.

Our foreheads touched first. Then noses. Then lips.

A soft kiss.

One that didn’t need hunger — only truth.

But then she deepened it — fingers wrapping around the back of my neck, her body leaning into mine, as if trying to remember how it felt to be wanted, held, kissed in the open sky.

I held her tighter, kissing her slow but deep, my hand resting gently on her waist.

When the wheel moved again, we pulled back — just enough to breathe.

Her cheeks were glowing. Her lips trembling from the kiss.

"Aaj aapko kya ho gaya hai?" she whispered.

"Jo kab ka hona chahiye tha," I said.

And she smiled.

That kind of smile you wear when you know — this night will stay with you forever.

The house was quiet when we returned.

Too quiet.

As we stepped inside, her hand still brushing against mine, I noticed the dim light from Maa’s room spilling into the corridor.

And then—her voice.

"Kahan ghoomke aa rahe ho dono?"

We froze.

Nitya quickly stepped aside from me, adjusting her pallu, eyes downcast.

Maa stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyes sharp.

"Poore gaon mein tamasha bana diya tum dono ne. Bhool gaye ho yeh ghar kis ka hai?"

"Maaji—" Nitya started, softly.

"Chup!" she barked. "Tujh jaise ko toh chhup chhup ke jeena chahiye! Shaadi-shuda hoke bhi…!"

"Bas, Ma!" I said, my voice louder than even I expected.

She looked stunned. I had never raised my voice to her.

"Kaafi sun liya maine. Har roz. Har waqt. Har baat mein uski beizzati. Usne kya kiya aapke saath? Aapki seva ki. Har kaam kiya. Kisi cheez ki shikayat tak nahi ki."

Maa scoffed. "Tu iske peechhe pagal ho gaya hai—bhabhi hai wo teri!"

"Toh kya karun, Maa?" I stepped closer.

"Log kya kahenge?" she snapped.

"Log toh waise bhi bolte hain."

She looked away, but I kept going.

"Main pyaar karta hoon usse. Aur chahe duniya kuch bhi kahe, main uska saath nahi chhodunga."

Nitya stood behind me, breath caught in her throat. I didn’t turn to look—I just knew.

"Tu pagal ho gaye hai," Maaji whispered, defeated.

"Ho gaya hoon," I said, firmly. "Aur pehli baar mujhe lag raha hai main pagal hi theek hoon."

Silence.

I didn’t say a word. I just walked past her.

Into her nitya's room.

I opened her trunk. Slowly.

Picked up the folded sarees she never wore, Her oil bottle, her comb, her bangles — one by one. Everything.

And I carried them into my room.

Deliberate. Unapologetic.

Nitya appeared behind me in the hallway, breath caught in her chest.

"Mayank… kya kar rahe ho?" she whispered.

I didn’t answer.

The last thing I picked up was her pillow — the one she always hugged in her sleep — and placed it next to mine.

Maa stood in the doorway, eyes bloodshot with rage and disbelief.

"Yeh kya tamasha hai?"

I turned to face her.

"Tamasha nahi, Maa. Faisla hai."

"tujhe kya lagta hai ye sab karke gaon main tujheh izzat milegi?"

I took a step forward.

"Agar izzat ka matlab hai dard mein jeena, toh mujhe wo izzat nahi chahiye."

Maaji’s lips trembled. But she said nothing.

I turned back, held Nitya’s hand.

"Chalo."

She looked at me — stunned, unsure, but something in her eyes glimmered. A light that had been missing for years.

We walked into my room.

And closed the door.

"Mayank, haṭiye… humein jana hai," Nitya said, trying to push me.

"Kahan jana hai?" I asked.

"Baahar… Maaji kya sochenge?" she said.

Instead of asking or telling, I simply pulled her into a passionate kiss.

At first, she tried resisting — then gave in.

I opened her blouse, and the saree slipped to the ground.

Without breaking the kiss, I picked her up and took her to the bed, taking off my own clothes.

"Mat kijiye, Mayank… ye galat hai," she said softly, trying to cover her body.

I caught her hands gently, pinned them above her head.

"Hone do…" I whispered against her lips, while peneratingg.

"Ummmhh…" she tried muffling her moans.

I heard a banging sound on the door.

"Arre naaspete! Ye kya kar raha hai?!" Ma screamed.

I got a little up and turned nitya around now on her fours , I grabbed both her breasts and started pounding as fast and deep, as expected the slapping sounds were extremely high but not higher than her moans,

“AHHHHH…AAAHHHHH….”she moaned

“DHEEREEE..SSSAHHHHHH..MAYANKK DHEEREE,” I ignored her and kept thrusting.

"Darwaza khol, Mayank!" Ma screamed from outside.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t flinch.

“Kyun aapko dekhna hai isse chudte huye?”, I asked and after that there were no more banging on the door.

Her breasts were jiggling with each thrust as I pounded into her hard and fast, unable to hold back any longer. I came deep inside her and withdrew, watching as she immediately collapsed on the bed, her body spent from our intense lovemaking.

Slowly, she turned around to face me, a flicker of anger in her eyes.

Before I could reach in to kiss her, she slapped me hard across the face.

I pulled back, stunned.

I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw her eyes brimming with tears. "Ap bohot bure hain," she sobbed. "Itna dard hua mujhe"

I reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling her up by her waist. "Accha bhi hon," I said softly, trying to soothe her.

But she shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks.

I sighed heavily, my chest tightening with remorse.

I gently pulled her into my arms and started trailing apologetic kisses along her neck. "Itne tez kardiya, Maaf kardo," I murmured against her skin.

Slowly, she looked up at me.

"Ao, iss bar ache se dheere dheere karunga," I promised, carefully laying her back down on the bed.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and we shared a deep, passionate kiss. This time, when I entered her again, I did so with slow, deliberate strokes, thrusting deep but gently, wanting to show her just how much I cherished her.

"Ummhh...haan aise hi...ummm," she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed as she moved beneath me.

"Accha lag raha hai?" I asked softly.

"Mmmhhh...mujhe bohot acha lag raha hai," she replied breathlessly. I continued to move inside her until I felt her stiffen and then come undone beneath me.

Moments later, I too reached my peak, filling her with my seed.

Spent, we collapsed together, wrapped in each other's embrace. Whatever the future held for us, we would face it together.