A/N - In India, a relationship with a first cousin is also considered incestuous. As a result, this work falls into the incest/taboo category.
This is a ero-romantic work of fiction. Enjoy!
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During one scorching summer, my family visited hers. And since then, every summer breeze has become the harbinger of her memories.
Her father (my maternal uncle) came to pick us up from the airport. It was somewhat of a long ride, with the nearest airport being sixty kilometers from their home. The transition between the city and village was prominent for all of my senses. My eyes started to see the verdant patches stretching up to the horizon, fresh air opening all the pores on my skin, the ever-forgiving trees on either side of the road allowing filtered sunlight upon us, and my heart, which suddenly seemed to pick up the pace the closer I got to her.
My aunt came out to welcome us. She side-hugged my father but grabbed my mother in her warm embrace. They both squealed like a pair of friends meeting after a long time.
But my eyes sought her, and I found her standing by the gate, smiling to herself. My aunt soon blocked my vision to praise my growth and health. By the time she moved aside, she was gone. As my father and her father carried the luggage into the rooms, we were ushered in and sat on the living room couch.
She appeared from the kitchen, carrying tall glasses of chill orange juice. I could not keep my eyes to myself, seeing her in a cotton black and white plaid dress with her hair tied half up and half down, she looked like a summertime dream. She hastily placed the serving tray before my mother jumped on her, squeezing the life out of her frail frame and complimenting her appearance, just as her mother had done to me. She blushed violently, with her ears turning red and her lips curling in a tight smile. I could not hold back my smile either. She hasn't change much...the same innocent pair of eyes, the same benevolent smile, and the same elegant aura.
Our fathers exited the room and took seats, drinking the juice. Adults went on talking and laughing, occasionally throwing questions at us. But I could only find reasons to look at her. She was sitting on the arm of the chair her father occupied, one foot firmly on the ground and the other hanging effortlessly. A half-finished glass in her hand, which she kept pressing to her lips. My gaze was drawn to her delicate feet and ankles. I traced her legs, pausing briefly at her waist before meeting her gaze. She held it for a few seconds before letting go. She began collecting everyone's empty glasses and disappeared into the kitchen.
We had about an hour before dinner to freshen up. I was given the room of her elder brother, who was living in the city with his wife. The room was small but spacious, with a double bed. I unpacked only enough to get at my toiletries and nightwear. After taking a hot shower, I walked downstairs to eat my dinner.
The moment my aunt saw me, she asked me to call her daughter down. And without a moment of hesitation, I climbed back up and crossed my new room to reach hers.
Her door was open, and she was lying on a small couch facing the opposite wall. Her long hair gently swept the ground, and her chest rose up and down ever so slowly. I'm not sure how long I waited there, transfixed by her effortless beauty, looking at her, or, for lack of a better term, "gawking" at her. With her left knee braced up and her right leg straight on the opposite armrest, her dress was bunched up at her pelvis, exposing her creamy thighs. She was immersed in a book that she held in right hand, and her left fingers gently went up and down the naked thigh.
I finally knocked on the door, and her head jerked up.
She awkwardly adjusted the hem of her dress and placed the book on her lap. Her eyes looked at me expectantly, and I told her that she was being called to have dinner.
She cleared her throat and stated that she would need a minute or two.
I walked back down and relayed the message.
~
I was lying on the bed, still tired from the trip and feeling dizzy from the heat, while our parents went to take a walk down the road. My senses were painfully aware of her presence in the house, alone with me.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a nap, but instead, I started recalling how we used to play together, fighting over and sharing our toys. We were inseparable, nose-deep in our little fantasies. But as I grew older, I became more aware of my thoughts and the social norms that weakened the bond we used to share. I say "we" because she was the one who first distanced herself from me. Maybe she started having her thoughts before me.
Suddenly, her voice jolted me up from my daze.
"I am sorry; I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized, looking genuinely concerned.
"No, I wasn't sleeping," I said, adjusting my t-shirt and wiping my face with my damp palm.
She smiled.
"I was cutting up a watermelon," she murmured. "Would you like some?"
"Sure," I said and immediately took my steps towards her.
