Mrs. Srivastav l 18+ (Ongoing)

Kreetika x Ritesh
B. com x PhD in political science
5.4 x 6.2

Kreetika's gaze dropped from his face to the glass of milk. Her mind raced with the implications of the suhagrat. Her cheeks flushed, and in her panicked, mortified state, she snapped,

"Chee... chee! Kitne asleel hain aap, Ritesh ji!"

But the shyness vanished, replaced by a volcanic rage. She stood up, her lehenga swirling like a storm of silk and embroidered florals.

"Samajhte kya hain aap apne aap ko? Mujhe aapke saath nahi rehna! Sab milkar meri zindagi barbaad kar di!"

She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Ritesh set the glass of milk on the table and rushed toward her, his hands reaching out to comfort her.

"Don't touch me!"

she screamed, recoiling from him as if his presence were poison. She looked at him with tear-filled, hateful eyes.

"Aap... aap zameen par soyenge. Aaj, aur jab tak main na kahun, aap is bed ko touch bhi nahi karenge.

Samjhe aap, Ritesh ji?"

Ritesh froze. He looked at her-the woman he had obsessed over, the woman he had bought-and saw only his own failure.

He didn't argue. He simply nodded, his heart aching with a regret he couldn't name. He grabbed a pillow from the divan and silently walked to the cold floor, leaving her the sanctuary of the bed, while he lay in the shadows, keeping his distance from the woman who now loathed his very existence.

~ 🪷 ~