In a world where desires run deep and passions ignite, delve into a collection of 18+ stories where love and intimacy intertwine. From steamy encounters under moonlit skies to fiery romances born from unexpected connections, these tales explore the...
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The small village of Sonakpur buzzed with rare excitement. The government had finally sent a teacher, Manveer Raghuwanshi, to teach the village children for free. The villagers admired his calm strength and commitment to education, but his stern gaze and no-nonsense attitude left most people respecting him from a distance.
One afternoon, as Manveer packed his few belongings at the school, he noticed a shadow by the door. He looked up to see a young woman, dressed simply, with striking features and a soft beauty. She held a little girl by her side, clutching her hand tightly, as if she feared someone would snatch her away.
"Namaste," the woman whispered, almost shyly, her voice gentle.
"Namaste," Manveer replied, observing her with a mixture of curiosity and respect. “Aapko yahan kuch chahiye?” (Do you need something here?)
The woman hesitated, looking at her daughter, then at him. “Mera naam Brinda hai,” she began. “Yeh meri beti Khushi hai. Main chahti hoon ki woh padhe likhe, kuch ban sake.” (My name is Brinda. This is my daughter, Khushi. I want her to study and become something.)
Manveer’s stern face softened. “Toh school ke liye admission kara dete hain,” he said simply. (Then let’s get her admitted to the school.)
But Brinda shook her head sadly. “Par… yeh baat mere parivaar ko pasand nahi. Wo kehte hain ke ladkiyon ko padhaane ki zaroorat nahi.” (But… my family doesn’t like it. They say girls don’t need to study.)
Manveer’s face grew dark. “Aapke parivaar ko samajhna chahiye ke sabke paas padhai ka haq hai,” he replied firmly. (Your family should understand that everyone has the right to an education.)
Just then, her brother-in-law, Suresh, appeared. He had been following her from the house, suspicious of her visit to the school. Watching her speak to Manveer, he felt his blood boil. He stormed toward them, his face red with anger.
“Yeh kya ho raha hai?” he barked. (What is happening here?)
Brinda’s face paled as she backed away, pulling Khushi close to her.
“Yeh school hai,” Manveer said coolly, stepping between Suresh and Brinda. “Yahan sirf padhai hoti hai.” (This is a school. Only studying happens here.)
Suresh narrowed his eyes at Manveer, then glared at Brinda. “Hamare ghar ke izzat ka toh dhyaan rakh, Brinda. Tum yahan iske saath kya kar rahi ho?” (Think of our family’s honor, Brinda. What are you doing here with him?)
“Suresh bhai, main sirf Khushi ke admission ke liye aayi thi,” she stammered. (Brother, I just came for Khushi’s admission.)
Suresh’s wife, Shanti, soon joined, overhearing the commotion. She sneered, “Achha! Admission ke naam pe ghar ke bahar jaa rahi ho, ab to sab samajh mein aa raha hai!” (Oh! Going out of the house for an ‘admission’—now everything makes sense!)
They began hurling accusations, their voices loud enough for villagers to gather. One by one, people started whispering, casting suspicious glances at Brinda and Manveer.
“Tum dono ke beech zaroor kuch chal raha hai!” Suresh accused, pointing a finger at Brinda. (Something must be going on between you two!)
Brinda’s voice shook as she denied it, “Nahi bhaiya, kuch nahi hai!” (No, brother, there’s nothing like that!)
Manveer clenched his fists, looking at the crowd’s doubtful expressions. “Yeh sab bakwas hai,” he said, barely containing his anger. (This is all nonsense.)
But Shanti seized the moment, her face twisted with jealousy and spite. She grabbed Brinda’s wrist, hissing, “Maan ja, Brinda! Maan le ki yeh tujhe zabardasti bulaata tha, warna hum Khushi ko maar denge.” (Admit it, Brinda! Admit he was forcing you, or we’ll kill Khushi.)
Brinda froze, fear flooding her eyes as she looked at her little daughter, innocent and unaware. Trembling, she nodded silently, unable to defy them.
Manveer’s expression darkened. He had no idea of the threat behind Brinda’s words, and to him, her reluctant admission felt like betrayal. “Mujhe laga tha ke tum alag thi,” he muttered, a cold fury in his voice. (I thought you were different.)
The villagers murmured, shaking their heads in disappointment. To them, Brinda’s reluctant nod was all the proof they needed.
The village elders held a meeting that evening and demanded that Manveer take responsibility for Brinda’s ‘honor.’ They had decided—they would be married at once.
That night, Brinda sat beside Manveer, her face lowered, her hands trembling. The wedding ceremony had been hastily performed under the elders’ watchful eyes, and though they were now husband and wife, it was a marriage neither of them had wanted.
Manveer’s jaw was clenched, his eyes stormy as he sat in silence. After a long pause, he turned to her and said bitterly, “Tumhe sach bolna chahiye tha. Tumne mujhe neecha dikhaya, aur main tumhe kabhi maaf nahi karunga.” (You should have told the truth. You humiliated me, and I will never forgive you.)
Brinda’s eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing. She could not reveal the terror that had forced her silence—the lives at stake.
He scoffed, standing up. “Main tumhe yehi batane aya tha,” he said coldly. (I came just to tell you that.)
In the days that followed, Manveer was distant and unyielding, barely speaking to Brinda except to give curt instructions. He was angry, hurt, and unable to understand her silence. Yet, he couldn’t help noticing her quiet resilience as she tended to Khushi, even as she endured harsh stares and murmurs from her in-laws.
One evening, Khushi tugged at Manveer’s hand, wanting to show him a drawing she’d made. He looked down, surprised by her sudden affection. The child’s innocence moved him.
To be continued......
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