2.1: The Wolf at the Door
The Sunday afternoon heat hung heavy over Hyderabad, a sticky haze that clung to everything. Abhi sat on the living room floor, a fan whirring lazily beside him, his math notebook open but untouched.
Madhuri was in the kitchen, the clatter of steel plates mixing with the sizzle of oil--she'd promised chicken pakora, this time for Ishaan's "study group" in Abhi's room.
Abhi's stomach churned at the thought. Ishaan's coming, into their home, and the photo he'd sent--the one still burning in his memory--felt like a loaded gun waiting to fire.
His phone buzzed, and he snatched it up.
Ishaan: "On my way, bro. Tell her to look hot--gonna make her day" Abhi's fingers froze over the keys, a mix of dread and something sharper twisting inside.
He didn't reply, couldn't, but the doorbell rang before he could think it through.
Madhuri wiped her hands on her apron, smoothing her hair as she crossed to the door. She wore a reddish pink saree--simple but snug, the fabric catching her curves in the light--and Abhi's throat tightened, knowing Ishaan would see it too.
"Namaste, aunty!" Ishaan's voice boomed as the door swung open, bright and dripping with charm.
He stepped inside, all 6 feet of him--bright tee stretched over his arms, jeans hugging his thighs, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
His grin was wide, disarming, but his eyes--dark and piercing--locked onto Madhuri like a hunter sizing up prey.
Abhi shrank into the couch, wishing he could disappear.
Madhuri smiled, polite but warm. "Ishaan? Good to see you, Come in, sit. Pakora is almost ready" She gestured to the sofa, oblivious to the way Ishaan's gaze lingered on her saree's pleats, tracing the line of her hips.
"Thanks, aunty," he said, dropping his bag with a thud. "Smells amazing already--Abhi wasn't kidding about your cooking" He shot Abhi a wink, subtle but loaded, and Abhi's face burned, his hands clenching into fists.
"Oh, it's nothing special," Madhuri said, brushing off the compliment, but her cheeks flushed faintly, a flicker of pride she couldn't hide.
She turned back to the kitchen, and Ishaan's grin widened, leaning toward Abhi as she left.
"Fuck, bro, she's hotter up close," he whispered, voice low and hungry. "That saree's begging to come off"
Abhi flinched, hissing, "Shut up, Ishaan!"--but it was weak, drowned by the thud of his own pulse.
Ishaan sprawled on the sofa, legs spread wide, owning the space.
"Relax, buddy. Just admiring the view" He pulled out a notebook, flipping it open like this was really about studying, but his eyes kept darting to the kitchen.
Madhuri returned with a tray--steaming chicken pakora, a bowl of yogurt, and two glasses of water--setting it on the table.
"Have it, boys," she said, her smile maternal but tinged with something else when Ishaan met her gaze.
"You're growing strong, Ishaan--cricket, right?"
"Yeah, aunty," he said, stretching and flexing his arms casually, muscles rippling under his sleeve.
"Gotta stay fit. You look like you keep active too--office work can't be easy"
His tone was smooth, a compliment wrapped in innocence, but Abhi saw the glint in his eyes, the bait being dangled.
Madhuri laughed, waving a hand. "Enough, flattery won't get you extra food!"
She turned away, but her step faltered, just for a second.
Abhi caught it--the way she lingered on Ishaan's frame, her lips parting before she caught herself.
She retreated to the kitchen, and Ishaan smirked at Abhi, popping a handful of pakora into his mouth.
"She likes me, bro. Did you see that?"
Abhi glared, whispering, "She's just being nice!"
Ishaan chuckled, leaning back. "Nice gets her wet. Keep watching--you'll see"
Abhi's fists tightened, but he said nothing, the wolf now inside his den, and him too tangled to stop it.
2.2: The Stirring Beneath
Madhuri stood at the sink, rinsing the tray, the cool water a balm against the heat creeping up her neck. Ishaan's voice echoed in her ears--"You look like you keep active too"--and she hated how it lingered, how it warmed her in places she'd ignored for years.
"He was just a boy, Abhi's friend, barely out of high school." she thought. But the way he'd said it, the confidence in his broad shoulders--she couldn't unsee it. Her fingers tightened around a spoon, scrubbing harder than necessary.
"Ugh, same old crappy thoughts again," she muttered, shaking her head.
From the living room, she heard Ishaan laugh--a deep, rolling sound that cut through the quiet house. Abhi's voice followed, softer, strained, and her chest twinged.
Her son had been off lately--quiet, jumpy, avoiding her eyes. She'd chalked it up to high school stress, but now, with Ishaan here, she wondered. He was loud, brash, the kind of boy who'd drag Abhi into trouble if she wasn't careful. Yet he was polite, charming in a way that disarmed her. Too charming, maybe.
She dried her hands, glancing at the drawer key on her wrist. The rose--wilted but still locked away--flashed in her mind.
"Was it a coincidence, Ishaan showing up after that? No, ridiculous. He was a kid, not some stalker."
Still, the thought nagged, a thread she couldn't quite pull. She adjusted her saree, smoothing the pleats, and caught her reflection in the kitchen window--flushed cheeks, a spark in her brown eyes she hadn't seen in ages.
"What's wrong with you--cut it out, Madhuri" she whispered, turning away fast.
Back in the living room, Abhi sat rigid, watching Ishaan devour the pakora like it was a conquest.
"Your mom's a fuckin' goddess, bro," Ishaan said between bites, loud enough for Abhi to cringe.
"Bet she's got every guy at work drooling"
Abhi's jaw clenched, his voice barely a hiss. "Stop it, Ishaan. She's my mom"
Ishaan grinned, leaning closer. "Yeah, your mommy--and a damn fine one. You saw how she looked at me. She's starving for it"
Abhi's hands shook, anger and shame boiling up, but before he could snap,
