#2 in boyxboy (Out of 300k)
#2 in crossdressing (out of 16k)
Vijay unemployed and heartbroken sitting on his couch wondering how he would pay the rent that has been due for 5 months.
Ramesh his landlord, a recent widower in his 50s Knocked on his do...
That evening, Vijay found himself standing in front of Ramesh's apartment, his heart racing like a wild animal in a cage.
He had showered and shaved, hoping to at least appear presentable. The door swung open to reveal Ramesh, and Vijay felt his stomach lurch.
The man's hair was a stark black, as if he had just stepped out of a salon. The transformation was jarring, but Ramesh's smile was warm and welcoming.
"Come in, come in," Ramesh said, stepping aside to allow Vijay to enter. The apartment was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of incense and a hint of alcohol.
Vijay's eyes adjusted to the gloom as Ramesh led him to the living room, where a bottle of whiskey and two glasses sat on the table.
They settled into their seats, the silence between them as heavy as a wet blanket.
Ramesh poured them both a drink, his hand shaking slightly. "So, tell me, Vijay," he began, his voice gentle. "What's been going on with you?"
Vijay took a deep breath, the alcohol burning his throat as he recounted his tale of woe: the breakup, the job search, the dwindling funds.
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It felt strange to be sharing such intimate details with his landlord, but the whiskey loosened his tongue, and the words flowed freely. Ramesh listened with a furrowed brow, nodding in all the right places.
As Vijay spoke, Ramesh's eyes grew misty. "I know what it's like to lose someone," he said, his voice cracking. "Lakshmi was everything to me. And now she's gone."
He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I miss her so much."
The room grew quiet, the only sound was the clinking of ice in their glasses.
Ramesh's gaze fell to the floor, and Vijay watched as a tear traced a path down the man's weathered cheek.
The sight of Ramesh's pain brought a lump to his own throat.
He reached out and patted the landlord's shoulder awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
Ramesh looked up, his eyes red-rimmed.
"You know, Vijay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I need to ask of you. Something that might seem strange."
He took a gulp of his drink, his hand trembling. "Could you—would you dress up as my wife for an hour?"
Vijay's heart skipped a beat. He had expected a lecture, perhaps a firm warning about eviction. But this?
He stared at Ramesh, trying to gauge if this was a twisted joke. But the man's expression was earnest, his eyes pleading.
"I just want to hold her one last time," Ramesh continued, his voice breaking. "Please, Vijay. For old times' sake."
Vijay felt a mix of pity and unease. He knew what Ramesh was asking was unorthodox, but he also knew the pain of loneliness.
And in that moment, looking at the broken man before him, he made his decision. He nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll do it."
