Clean Bowled - A story of two identical souls.

8.

Sanyogita

As I hurriedly matched his long strides towards the main door, a lingering discomfort clung to the air, a residue of the highly inappropriate and embarrassing events that had transpired at the table.

My cheeks still burned with the memory of those moments, but in the shadow of Prithvi Gujaral's presence, they seemed to wither away, insignificant.

Prithvi, the name itself carrying an air of audacity and self-assurance, walked beside me, seemingly unperturbed by the chaos left behind. His stature, tall and commanding, painted a picture of a man unswayed by societal norms.

As we approached the main door, the weight of those inappropriate incidents and the echoes of embarrassment were momentarily forgotten.

I stole a glance at him, searching for a hint of remorse or concern, but his gaze remained fixed ahead. In that moment, I realized that Prithvi Gujaral was above it all – above the judgments, the prying eyes, and the whispers of disapproval.

He was the same Prithvi who had boldly kissed me in front of my parents when they got to know about us for the first time, a daring act that declared his love without reservation.

Just to stake his claim.

I swear that day, My Dadi was ready to break my legs.

The memory of that audacious kiss flooded back, creating a contrasting tapestry against the backdrop of the recent embarrassment.

It was as if Prithvi carried a realm of his own, a space where societal norms bowed in deference to his unwavering confidence.

As we reached the main door, I couldn't help but marvel at the enigma that was Prithvi Gujaral. His presence, both a shield and a provocateur, left me standing at the threshold of emotions – a swirling mix of embarrassment, admiration, and a tinge of rebellious excitement.

The main door loomed ahead, opening to a world that held both judgment and acceptance, but with Prithvi by my side, it felt like stepping into an uncharted territory where rules bent to the will of a man unapologetically himself.

In a persistent ritual, he repeated the familiar act today. Every time someone dared to provoke him, suggesting that he refrain from touching me, his response was defiant. Instead of restraint, he intensified his touch, almost as if to underscore a point. It happened in plain view, a deliberate display of dominance, challenging anyone who dared to question his actions.

There was a pattern to his behavior, a calculated defiance that spoke volumes about the possessive undercurrents in his subconscious. To him, it seemed, I wasn't just a companion; I was a possession, a territory marked and claimed.

His actions carried the weight of an unspoken declaration: in the realm of his consciousness, I was his, and no one had the right to intrude when he indulged in those intimate 'moments' with me.

"Come on Soniyo, you have more stamina" I was panting. Just because I'm always fit doesn't mean I exercise.

Climbing stairs twice a day from my room to dinner table is my daily basic workout and I don't want more than that. Thank you very much.

"That was above all the shameless-ness you ever made me face, Prithvi" I snap when we reached the store room. This store room is our hiding place. This place is our cocoon.

"You never complain when the same shameless-ness gives you orgasm after orgasm"

"That's makes you my husband"

This mini store room has more memories of us then our bedrooms. Our first meet, our first kiss, his proposal and let's not forget the most important day, our courtship....... happened in this room. This room is basically under the main stair case. His family finds in bad omen to go in rooms under the stair cases, so no one comes here.