Note: The below storyline might be slightly difficult to execute as it involves multiple characters, shifting emotions, and multiple relationships. The flow will need both timing and natural transitions to make the scenes feel believable.
It's been close to 10:30 PM, but the rain hasn't stopped. The city had been baking a stick of oppressive April heat, the kind where the air goes heavy, the clothes cling to your skin, and even a ceiling fan fails to cool you down. The dark clouds had been building up all that evening with a sort of theatrical effect and finally at 8 PM the heavens opened up. There was thunder and driving rain, and the streets filled with water and swept away the thick stuffy heat.
Riya was supposed to reach home by 9:00 PM, but her office's annual team party had been longer than anticipated. She had waited, laughed, and chatted with colleagues hoping that the rain would pace slow as she had to leave. It did not, though. By the moment when she was saying goodbye to her team and booked a taxi, an excessive number of cars started to turn traffic jam into a nightmare.
By the time she arrived at her apartment building, it was almost one hour later, and the cab crawled along through congested streets, the windshield wipers flapping madly. It was 11:40 PM by the time she managed to get out of the taxi.
On that day, she had not thought to bring an umbrella with her on the account that previously the sky had been scorchingly sun-lit throughout the day. She ran out of the compound gate, grasping the edges of her saree through the rain to the building entrance. She was drenched by the time she got to the elevator.
It was a Friday night, and although cold water was running down her back, she felt some relief knowing she could sleep in tomorrow. No alarm clocks, no need to rush into the office in the early morning. Only a peaceful weekend, or so she thought.
She unlocked the apartment door, went inside, and closed the door and sighed. She was greeted by the comfortable home atmosphere, yet she shivered with the wet clothes that were sticking to her body. Even her hair was stuck on her cheeks and the back of the neck. At the door, she took off her sandals and entered slowly, walking across the living room so steadily that the water dripping off her clothes would not splash too many times on the shining floor.
She entered her bedroom, and it was empty. Her husband, Maanav, had not yet come home. She looked up at the wall clock, which showed 11:46 PM.
"Every Friday, it's the same," she said to herself with irritation. "I don't mind him drinking with friends, but making it a weekly ritual, it's been going on since college days, it is ridiculous."
She was standing by the bed, and the chills of the cold were creeping into her. The saree and blouse were sticking in uncomfortable places, and she unbuttoned her blouse, untucked the pallu, and shed off the wet saree on the floor beside the bed so they wouldn't dampen the sheets.
She was left now with only her black sheer bra and petticoat on. She grabbed the towel off the hook on the wall. Standing in front of the mirror, she started drying herself up—her waist, her arms, her wet legs. She rubbed the towel across her collarbone and over her cleavage and through her long hair. The slow rubbing warmed her up a little, and she found herself admiring her mirror image. Her thin waist, her flat stomach, the 32DD breasts she had maintained so well over the years—not an hourglass figure, but undeniably feminine and attractive. She smiled a little at her own reflection.
She was still wearing her wet bra, which stuck to her shoulders and breasts, and her half-wet hair made her feel even more uncomfortable. She decided to take the bra off. She unhooked it from behind, and that's when the doorbell rang. She looked up at the clock, and it was nearly midnight.
"That must be him," she thought. Her mild calm shifted instantly to irritation. "Why the hell is he ringing the bell when he has the key? Don't tell me he's drunk enough to forget it again."
She threw the towel down on the bed in a huff, and then in her unhooked bra and petticoat, headed towards the door. She jerked it open and came to a stop.
Maanav was leaning hard against the shoulder of Aarav, and he evidently was not capable of walking. Aarav's eyes, however, were not on Maanav. They were locked on her. His eyes went on her rain-slick skin, the black sheer bra, and the faint looseness of the bra as if it had shifted out of place.
"Aarav..." she sighed, and in self-defense crossed her arms over her breast. Panicked, she turned so her face was away from him and her back was toward him, not realizing that the clasp of her bra was already undone, hence providing him with a fuller view of what lay behind.
"Aarav, you here...? I mean, sorry," she interrupted, without turning to him. "I thought Maanav was alone and had forgotten his key, so I rushed to open the door. I know he drinks every Friday, and I didn't want him making a scene in front of the neighbors."
The tone of Aarav was even. "No worries. You look wet?"
"Yeah, I just got home. Got drenched in the rain." Then, realizing how exposed she still was, she said quickly, "Can you bring Maanav to the bedroom? I'll just go get something to cover myself."
And with that, she was off to the bedroom where she grabbed the towel off the bed and wrapped it tightly around herself.
Aarav came in, guiding Maanav to the bed, laying him down gently. His eyes fell on the saree and blouse on the floor, then lifted his eyes to look back at her.
"I hope you're feeling warmer now," he said. "You shouldn't stay wet too long; otherwise, you'll catch a cold."
"Yeah... I will get that taken care of. Thanks for the concern," she replied back.
They stood in silence for a moment; there was an atmosphere between them, an atmosphere of unsaid things. Aarav was the first to break it. "I should head home. It's getting late."
She followed him to the door, still wrapped in the towel.
When he was halfway to the door, he turned around. "I hope you haven't forgotten about Sunday. You'll be coming, right?"
She needed a second to remember. "Yes, we'll be there. Don't worry."
His lips turned up into a small smile. "I hope things don't go as they did last year."
Riya replied, tucking her few strands of hair behind her ear, "I hope so too."
He was gone; she closed the door behind him and breathed with relief that she had just been spared a more embarrassing scene. She was thankful she'd escaped the awkward situation in front of her ex-boyfriend, Aarav.
She walked back into the bedroom where Maanav lay fully on the bed in his work clothes, snoring heavily. Riya picked up her phone, looked at Aarav's invite, and tapped "Accept." Catching her own reflection in the mirror, she smiled and typed a short reply: "I hope we will have mad fun this year 😉"
Somewhere in the back of a taxi, Aarav read the message. His reply came seconds later: "Mad fun... now you've got me thinking about the good old days, the stuff we used to do..." He closed the chat, opened his gallery to an old photo of his ex-girlfriend Riya hugging him, brushed his finger over the screen, thought about tonight, then locked his phone with a smile, his left hand resting over his pant zip and feeling his hard cock through the fabric.
Extended Plot: Riya and Aarav went through a two-year romance as they were students at the university, and it ended when Aarav chose to study further in Germany. The separation was friendly; there was no shouting or any unnecessary accusations, although a certain definable feeling of weirdness remained between them.
After Aarav moved on, the two went on their own paths. Riya got married in a love marriage to Maanav, whereas Aarav fell in love with Isha, another Indian cohabitant resident studying abroad when he enrolled in his course of study. It was six years since their marriage.
Despite the history, Riya and Aarav's social circles had overlapped. Along with their respective spouses, they were part of a close-knit group of four couples who were friends for life, bound by memories and shared experiences from their college life.
Armaan previously proposed to Riya during their freshman year; she said no, still there was a lasting alliance. He then wooed his more traditional and shy coworker Meher and offered her marriage just before graduation and married her eight years ago.
Other than Riya & Maanav, and Aarav & Isha, there was also:
- Armaan and Meher: Armaan was in the same engineering batch as Riya & Aarav. In fact, Armaan had proposed to Riya in the 1st year. She refused him, yet in place of lovers became lifelong friends. He had proposed to Meher, his conservative, soft-spoken batchmate a little later on, at the end of the graduation process, and the two had married eight years ago.
- Daksh and Samaira: Daksh had a good background, a rich boy who graduated in civil engineering, and he looked after his construction business that his father set up that was very prosperous. He was always flirtatious, open to new things, and never afraid of breaking boundaries and was well-renowned to be a very easy charm. Samaira was also independently rich and studied textile engineering, then returned and ran her family's textile empire. Energetic and outgoing, she was as much as the equal of Daksh, to begin with, at least, during the early years of their marriage.
All of them had made an agreement with each other in college that they would always find time out of their busy schedules to have a three-week vacation trip somewhere each summer, regardless of where they were stationed in life. It was how they maintained the connection.
The previous trip to Darjeeling had been spoiled because of the marital problems between Daksh and Samaira. There had been a hot argument between the two in the midway of their vacation which killed the mood of the entire trip, and they were now in the middle of a separation with the divorce proceedings already being sought out. They had, however, consented to come to this year's trip, but they scarcely communicated with each other.
The destination this year had been decided: Maldives, in April. Sun, sand, and turquoise water - A new opportunity for the group to relax and, hopefully, leave the memories of the past year behind.
Thanks for reading! Looking for a dynamic male partner who can comfortably play multiple characters and handle shifting tones, light humor, natural emotion, and realistic dialogue. I want a partner who can make scenes engaging and imaginative, yet grounded in realism. Writing should feel natural and add the little moments that make everything believable.