The Mask of Desire Ch. 02

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,

Madhuri reappeared, wiping her hands on her pallu.

"How's food? Want some more?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes flicking between them.

Ishaan straightened, flashing that grin again. "Tastes delicious aunty, just like the way you make everything better. I've had my fill."

"Also gotta say this, You're spoiling me--better watch out, I might keep coming back" His voice was playful, but the edge was there, a challenge she didn't catch.

"Haha, you're always welcome here, Ishaan" she said, smiling despite herself.

"Abhi needs good friends" She ruffled Abhi's hair

He ducked away, mumbling, "I'm fine, maa"

She frowned, sensing the tension, but let it go, heading upstairs to change. Ishaan watched her go, his gaze tracing her ass as she climbed, then turned to Abhi with a smirk.

"She's inviting me in, bro. You're gonna help me make it stick"

Abhi's stomach dropped. "No way," he whispered, but Ishaan clapped him on the shoulder, hard.

"Yes way. Text me again tonight. We're just getting started" He stood, grabbing his bag, and sauntered to the door, pausing to call out, "Thanks, aunty! Best snack ever!"

Madhuri's voice floated down--"Glad to hear, Ishaan! Take care."--and he left, leaving Abhi staring at the empty tray, the air thick with something he couldn't name.

Upstairs, Madhuri slipped into a nightie, her skin still tingling from Ishaan's flattery. She pushed it down, locked it away with the rose, but the stirring wouldn't fade.

Downstairs, Abhi clutched his phone, Ishaan's words a leash tightening around him. The mask was emerging--charming, bold, dangerous--and neither of them saw its teeth yet.

2.3: The Thief in the Night

The house was still that evening, a fragile quiet broken only by the hum of the fridge and Ramesh's snores drifting from the bedroom. Abhi sat on his bed, legs crossed. He'd tried to ignore Ishaan's taunts, tried to focus on his homework, but the memory of Ishaan's grin, the way he'd looked at his mom, dragged him back every time.

His phone buzzed, sharp and insistent. Ishaan: "Where's my update, bro? Don't make me come over"

Abhi's heart thudded, panic spiking. He couldn't let Ishaan show up again--not after today, not with her already smiling at him too much.

He crept to his door, cracking it open, the hallway dim but alive with shadows.

Madhuri's room was at the end, the door ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. He took a breath, stepping into the dark, each footfall a betrayal.

Peering through the gap, he saw her--sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair, her nightie a soft gray that clung to her shoulders. Ramesh's snores rumbled steady, a wall between her and the world.

She looked tired, her movements slow, but there was something else--a restlessness in the way she paused, staring at her reflection, her fingers lingering at her throat.

Abhi's breath caught, his phone slipping in his sweaty grip. He typed, quick and quiet: "Gray nightie. Brushing her hair. Dad's asleep"

Ishaan's reply was instant: "Hot. She's probably thinking about me--bet she's wet under that. Get me more, bro. The rose. Now"

Abhi's stomach dropped. "The rose? Does he want me to steal it?" He stared at the message, the words blurring as his pulse raced.

"No way"--he couldn't. But Ishaan's threat hung heavy, and the photo he'd already sent felt like a door he couldn't close. He edged closer, the floor creaking under him, and froze as Madhuri's head tilted, like she'd heard.

She didn't turn, just sighed--a low, weary sound--and set the brush down, sliding into bed. Abhi waited, counting her breaths until they evened out, then slipped inside.

The room smelled of her--rose perfume, a faint sweat--and his chest tightened, guilt warring with the thrill of being here.

The drawer was in the vanity, locked, but the key glinted on her wrist, dangling as she slept.

He hesitated, his hand hovering, then gently--oh so gently--slid it off, his fingers brushing her skin. She stirred, murmuring something, and he froze, heart in his throat, but she settled, lost to dreams.

The drawer clicked open, and there it was--the rose, wilted but potent, the note folded beside it. He snapped a photo, the flash off, and texted it to Ishaan: "Got it. Rose and note" His hands shook as he tucked it back, relocking the drawer, slipping the key onto her wrist with a thief's care.

He fled to his room, locking the door, his breath ragged. Ishaan's reply buzzed: "I thought your existence is like elevator music, bro! But, you got it, She's keeping it--means she's hooked. You're my eyes from now"

Abhi sank onto his bed, the phone slipping from his grip. He'd done it--stolen from his mom, handed her secret to Ishaan--and the rush was sickening, a twisted mix of fear and power.

He saw her differently now, not just as his mother, but as someone with shadows, someone Ishaan could reach. He curled into a ball, the night pressing down, the line he'd crossed a scar he couldn't erase.

2.4: The Petals Fall

Madhuri woke Monday morning with a start, her wrist tingling where the key rested. She sat up, Ramesh still snoring beside her, and rubbed her eyes, a vague unease settling in her chest.

The dream lingered--faceless hands, a deep voice calling her name--and she shook it off, blaming the heat. But as she swung her legs out of bed, her gaze fell to the vanity, the drawer shut tight. Something felt... off. She couldn't place it, but the air in the room was heavier, like someone had been there.

"Ugh, these filthy dreams!" she muttered, standing to stretch, her nightie riding up her thighs.

She unlocked the drawer, checking the rose--still there, petals curling inward, the note uncreased. Relief washed over her, then guilt.

"Why did I even care? It was a stupid gift, a creepy prank" she thought yet she hadn't thrown it away.

She slammed the drawer shut, the key clicking into place, and dressed quickly--Pale celadon linen wrap dress, beige strappy stilettos her armor for the office.

Downstairs, Abhi was at the table, poking at his idlis with a fork, his eyes downcast.

"Morning sweetie! What, no appetite?" she asked, pouring herself tea.

He shrugged, mumbling, "Just tired, mom," but his voice was hollow.

She frowned, setting her cup down. "You're hiding something Abhi, did you get into any trouble in high school?"

He shook his head too fast, and she sighed, brushing his hair back. "Tell me if there's anything, okay? I'm always here for you"

Abhi nodded, her touch a lifeline he didn't deserve, and watched her leave for work, the key glinting on her wrist. He'd touched it last night, held her secret, and the memory burned--half shame, half something darker.

At the office, Madhuri buried herself in reports, but her focus wavered. The junior associate--dropped by her desk, leaning too close. "Hello ma'am, you're glowing today," he said.

She scoffed, "Enough lad, work on your flattery," but her pulse quickened.

She pushed it down, focusing on her screen, but the rose crept back--"I see you"--and now Ishaan's voice from yesterday, smooth and teasing.

"Ugh.. What's happening to me?" she grumbled.

The day dragged, and when she got home, another parcel waited--a small box, no sender. Her hands trembled as she opened it in the kitchen, Abhi upstairs oblivious.

Inside, a single petal--fresh, red--and a new note

"You can't hide, Madhuri. I'm closer than you think"

Her breath caught, fear and thrill colliding. She stuffed it into her bag, heart racing, and glanced at the stairs.

"Who is this creep? Is it one of my colleagues? Is it the neighbors? Is it Ishaan? or Is it.. A-Abhi? No, Impossible.." she rushed to her room without saying a word to Abhi.

"Get your head straight girl, why did you just think about that. Abhi is your son. Step out of it," she cursed herself.

Madhuri locked the petal away with the rose, her pride warring with a growing itch she couldn't scratch. Someone was watching--even closer now--and she didn't know whether to run or wait. The mask's whisper got louder, and the petals were falling, one by one, into her unraveling life as she dozes off.

2.5: The Game at the Gate

Tuesday afternoon blazed through Hyderabad, the high school courtyard a furnace as Abhi trudged out, backpack dragging his shoulders down. He'd barely slept, his mom's silence last night screamed louder than words.

Ishaan in his oversized fit, leaned against the gate, cricket bat slung over his shoulder, sweat glistening on his bare arms.

His grin was sharp, predatory. "Hey kiddo, where you running off to?" he called, voice carrying over the chatter of dispersing students.

Abhi froze, clutching his straps. "Home," he mumbled, but Ishaan stepped closer, towering over him.

"Not yet, bro. We're taking a detour--your place. Gotta thank your mom for that treat again"

Abhi's stomach flipped. "Sh.. She's at work," he lied, too quick, and Ishaan's eyes narrowed, catching it.

"Bullshit. Saw her car parked when I passed by earlier. Come on, don't be a pussy" He clapped Abhi on the back, steering him toward the road, his grip firm and unyielding.

Abhi stumbled along, panic rising--Ishaan in their house again, so soon, felt like a storm he couldn't stop.

They reached the gate just as Madhuri's car pulled up--she'd left work early, a rare break. She stepped out, a coral saree catching the sun, her hair loose and wild from the wind.

Abhi's breath hitched, but Ishaan whistled low, nudging him. "Fuck, bro, jackpot"

Madhuri spotted them, waving with a tired smile. "Oh hey, Ishaan! What's this, a surprise visit?"

Ishaan flashed his charm, striding over. "Couldn't stay away, aunty. Your delicious treat's still on my mind--thought I'd beg for seconds" His voice was honey, but his eyes raked her saree, lingering on the way it clung to her chest.

Madhuri laughed, brushing her hair back. "Enough, you'll make me cook all day!" She didn't see the hunger in his stare, but Abhi did, his fists clenching as Ishaan leaned closer, offering to carry her bag.

"Here, let me help," Ishaan said, taking it before she could protest, his fingers brushing hers.

Madhuri blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she nodded, leading them inside.

Abhi trailed behind, the air thick with something he couldn't name--fear, anger, a shameful spark he buried deep.

Ishaan dropped the bag on the table, sprawling on the sofa like he owned it, and Madhuri disappeared to the kitchen, promising snacks.

"See that, bro?" Ishaan whispered, smirking. "She's into me. That touch--she felt it"

Abhi glared, his voice a hiss. "She's just being nice!"

Ishaan chuckled, kicking his feet up. "All that nice might trip her up. You'll see what I mean" He pulled out his phone, texting fast--Abhi didn't see it, but the glint in his eyes said trouble.

Madhuri returned with a plate of samosas, setting it down with a smile. "Have them, Ishaan, you're too skinny for cricket," she tried to tease him a little for the taunts he made on her.

he rolled up his sleeves of his oversized t-shirt flexed an arm, grinning. "Skinny? Nah, Aunty--I'm lean where it counts. Slim waist, all muscle up here--feel it if you don't believe me," He held it out, bold as hell

Madhuri laughed, swatting his hand away. "Cover it up Ishaan! You're a bad boy, you know that?" she said

But her eyes lingered on his abs, a flush creeping up her neck before she turned away.

Abhi's chest tightened, the spark igniting--jealousy, maybe, or worse.

Ishaan caught it, whispering, "She's under my spell, bro. Text me tonight--everything"

He stood, thanking Madhuri with exaggerated charm, and left, his shadow stretching long behind him.

Abhi stared at the samosas, appetite gone, the game now at his gate--and him too weak to shut it.

2.6: The Crack in the Mirror

Madhuri stood in her bedroom that night, the coral saree pooled on the floor, her reflection stark in the mirror. She'd changed into a nightie--black, silky, a rare indulgence--and traced her fingers along her collarbone, replaying Ishaan's visit.

His boldness--offering to carry her bag and touching her, flexing abs like some hero--should've annoyed her. It didn't. It stirred her, a ripple in the calm she'd clung to for years.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, her voice trembling in the quiet.

"He's Abhi's friend, just a teenager... yet his confidence, his eyes, his body... they didn't feel like that," she thought.

Downstairs, Abhi paced the living room, he'd seen it--her flush, her laugh, the way she'd looked at Ishaan's abs. It wasn't just nice. It was something else, something that made his stomach churn and his dick twitch, a betrayal he couldn't face.

His phone buzzed--Ishaan: "Show me what she's doing"

Abhi's breath hitched, "I'm an idiot, swear to God, might as well carve my own tombstone"

He crept upstairs, the house creaking under him, and paused at her door.

It was ajar, the mirror angled just right--he saw her, nightie slipping off one shoulder, slightly showing off her cleavage, her hand sliding down her neck, eyes half-closed, her dress revealing one of her thick thighs.

His mouth went dry, a jolt shooting through him--shame, thrill, a mix he couldn't untangle.

She didn't see him, lost in her own world, and he fumbled his phone, snapping a blurry shot before bolting back downstairs.

He sent it, hands shaking: "Here. Don't ask again"

Ishaan's response was a firebomb: "Damn! look at her thick thighs, she's a slut waiting to break."

"Congrats, dummy, you didn't screw it up--miracles do happen after all."

Abhi deleted it, curling into the couch, the image seared into him--his mom, vulnerable, alive in a way he'd never seen. He hated Ishaan, hated himself, but the thrill lingered, dark and addictive.

Upstairs, Madhuri caught a shadow in the mirror--a flicker, gone fast--and froze, heart pounding.

"Who's there?" she whispered, but the room was empty.

She locked the door, checking the drawer--rose, petal, note, all there--but the crack was widening, her pride splintering under eyes she couldn't see.

Across town, Ishaan grinned at the photo, stroking himself through his shorts. Madhuri was crumbling--faster than he'd hoped--and Abhi was his perfect pawn.

He texted his burner account, checked it is still blocked, He wanted to create a new one and draft a message for her, but held off.

"Not yet. Let her stew, let Abhi dig deeper. I'll make her unblock me herself," he thought.

2.7: The Market Ploy

Wednesday afternoon hit like a freight train--Abhi bolted from high school, dodging Ishaan's usual gate ambush, his phone silent for once. He'd muted it after that photo of his mom in her nightie haunting him all day.

He darted home, head down, but the streets buzzed louder than his thoughts--autorickshaws honking, vendors shouting--and he didn't see Ishaan until it was too late.

"Oi, Abhi!" Ishaan's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

He lounged against a fruit cart near the market, a mango in hand, peeling it with a pocketknife.

"Where you running, bonehead? Missed you at the gate" His grin was casual, but his eyes glinted, pinning Abhi in place.

"I... had to go," Abhi mumbled, clutching his bag. Ishaan tossed the peel aside, stepping closer.

"Bullshit. You're dodging me. After that pic? You're in too deep to back out now"

Before Abhi could protest, Ishaan's gaze flicked past him, sharpening.

"Well, fuck me--look who's here" Abhi turned, heart sinking.

Madhuri was at the vegetable stall, haggling over tomatoes fiercely with the shopkeeper in a fitted kurta and pants.

Her hair tied back, a basket on her arm.

She hadn't seen them yet, and Ishaan was already moving, dragging Abhi along.

"Time to play, bro," he muttered, his stride purposeful.

"Maa!" Abhi called, voice cracking, a weak attempt to warn her, but Ishaan reached her first, all charm.

"Hello aunty, fancy seeing you here!" he boomed, flashing that grin.

Madhuri looked up, startled, then smiled. "Ishaan? What are you doing here in the market?" Her tone was light, but her eyes flicked to Abhi, questioning.

Ishaan stepped closer, grabbing a tomato from her basket. "Just helping out--Abhi said you'd be here. Let me carry that, looks heavy"

He took the basket before she could argue, his arm brushing hers, deliberate and bold. Madhuri blinked, a faint flush creeping up her neck.

"Um.. its ok Ishaan, I'll manage," she said, reaching to take it back, but Ishaan held firm, flexing subtly.

"Nah, aunty, I've got it--strong arms, remember?" He winked, and she laughed--a real laugh, soft and unguarded--before catching herself, glancing at Abhi.

"You're a cheeky one huh? but don't spoil my son," she teased, nodding at her son.

Abhi stood frozen, the air thickening around him. Ishaan's charm was a blade, slicing through her defenses, and he couldn't stop it--didn't know if he wanted to.

As they walked back home, Madhuri chatted ahead, oblivious, praising Ishaan's manners.

Abhi trailed behind, the market's noise fading into a dull roar in his head.

Ishaan dumped the basket inside, lingering by the door.

"Thanks, aunty--see you soon," he said, his gaze locking with hers, slow and heavy.

Madhuri nodded, smiling, and shut the door while Abhi sank onto the couch.

2.8: The Mask unblocked

Madhuri paced her bedroom that night, the kurta swapped for a loose nightie--white, sheer, a whisper against her skin. Ishaan's visit replayed in her mind--his arm brushing hers, that wink, the ease of his strength.

"It was nothing, just a boy being helpful," she thought, but her pulse hadn't settled since.

She stopped at the vanity, unlocking the drawer, the rose and petal staring up at her--now joined by the new note, its words a taunt: "I'm closer than you think"

"This is driving me up the wall" she hissed, gripping the petal, its freshness a slap to her pride.

"Closer--how?" she pondered, locked her doors, checked her windows, but the feeling grew--eyes on her, peeling her apart. Ishaan flashed again--his grin, his boldness.

"Could it be him? No, he's Abhi's true friend, just an attractive teenager. I shouldn't spoil their friendship." Yet the doubt stuck, a thorn in her chest.

She slammed the drawer shut, her breath uneven, and caught her reflection--flushed, wild-eyed, a woman teetering on an edge she didn't want to name.

Downstairs, Abhi hunched over his phone, shame flooding him, but he couldn't stop.

Ishaan's text hit like a punch: " What a pathetic son you are bro, serving your mom up on a platter."

"Push her. Ask her about me tomorrow" Abhi's hands shook, his body drowing in guilt--he couldn't ask, couldn't face her--but the pull was stronger now, a dark current dragging him under.

Morning came quick. Madhuri dressed sharp--Black off-shoulder top, crepe tailored pants, silver pointed-toe heels--armor against the unease.

At breakfast, Abhi's voice broke the silence, small and forced.

"Maa, umm... Ishaan's nice, right? Helping yesterday..,?"

She paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, her eyes narrowing. "Yeah, he's sweet. Why?" Her tone was casual, but her grip tightened, suspicion flickering.

Abhi shrugged, mumbling, "Just asking," and bolted, leaving her staring after him.

At work, her colleagues flirted again during a presentation--"Black suits you, Ma'am"--but she brushed him off, distracted.

The petal, Ishaan, Abhi's question, colleagues taunts--they swirled, a storm she couldn't outrun.

All of a sudden in the middle of her presentation, she stood still, eyes open and sharp, as if she'd just pieced together a mysterious, tangled puzzle.

She quickly got back home after her presentation.

She rushed to her bedroom, alone, grabbed her phone, scrolling to DevilzMask--blocked weeks ago

Her thumb hovered, heart pounding. "Was it him? The stalker?"

She didn't know, but the itch was unbearable--fear, need, a crack she couldn't seal.

She unblocked the account, typing fast: "Who are you? Stop this--or I'll find out" She hit send, breath held, the abyss staring back.

Across town, Ishaan's phone pinged, his grin splitting wide.

"Game fuckin' on," he muttered, typing back from DevilzMask: "You're already looking, Madhuri. Keep me close--I'll show you more"

Madhuri's phone buzzed, the reply a jolt--she'd opened the door, and the mask stepped through, slow and deliberate, ready to claim her next.

2.9: The Alt's Gambit

Madhuri sat alone in her bedroom that night, the house hushed, Ramesh's snores a distant drone. She is not interested in changing her dress due to a strange feeling that the stalker will be secretly watching her crept on her mind.

Her phone glowed in her lap, DevilzMask unblocked but silent--she'd sent her message from her main account, and his reply, "You're already looking, Madhuri. Keep me close--I'll show you more", stared back at her.

Her heart raced, a mix of fury and thrill she couldn't shake. He knew her name, her life--too much--and she'd cracked the door open. Her breath catches, eyes widening at his reply. Thrill dances down her spine, a forbidden shiver she hasn't felt in years.

She clutches her pants tighter, scolding herself "This ain't right--get a grip, girl, you're spiraling," but her fingers moved, driven by something deeper.

Her husband's face flashes in her mind, but her body hums with something alive. She couldn't use her real account to talk--too risky, too exposed. She wanted to give the stalker the taste of his own medicine.

She doesn't reply yet. Instead, she grabs an old phone, swiped to Instagram, creating a new profile--ShyVelvet--her hands trembling as she set it up

No display picture, no description, no hints, just a shadow.

She wants to turn the tables, taste the power he's been wielding over her.

Her chest tightens as she created that account, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in her gut.

She's never done this--played the mystery, the tease. Her husband's snores echo from the bedroom, and guilt gnaws at her, but the thrill drowns it out

She typed, slow and deliberate, her breath shallow: "You think you know me, Creep?" She hit send, a jolt running through her as DevilzMask lit up with the message. She waited, the silence stretching, her nightie sticking to her skin in the humid air.

Ishaan's brow arches, a jolt of surprise hitting him as he gets a notification from an unknown account named ShyVelvet. His fingers hover over the keys

He's always the one in control, the charmer who makes girls blush, but this feels... different.

"Who could this be? Is it her?" Ishaan wonders as his heart kicks up a notch, intrigued.

Then it buzzed "Wait, Madhuri? Is that you?" A nervous laugh escapes her lips, quickly muffled by her hand.

"He's sharp, damn him," she mutters, her palms sweat, but she leans into the role, texting

Guess again stalker--I'm not who you think I am." She sent it, pulse pounding

Ishaan chuckles, leaning forward "I'm used to girls throwing themselves at me. But this? This is a puzzle. I love it." the chase ignited him.

"Oh, a little game? Alright, mystery girl. Let's see... you're someone who's watched me too, huh?" His grin widens, eyes glinting with challenge

A reply came from ShyVelvet: "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just here to mess with you." His heart kicks up a notch, intrigued

He typed and sent "Oh, I've had my share of admirers. One girl tried to kiss me at a party.. Another sent me poetry, all mushy. But you... you're different. Spill--who are you?" Her jaw drops, a flush creeping up her neck

Her jealousy stings her sharp and sudden. He is the kind she has always avoided.

Her fingers shake as she types, "No, I'm a mystery. Keep guessing" hiding her shock behind mystery

He's still betting it's Madhuri, that shy little housewife he's been unraveling all week with his words, his glances. Ishaan's enjoying this dance more than he expected.

"You've got me hooked--keep playing, shadow girl. I'll figure you out." Her heart races, a wild drumbeat she can't quiet

"Hah! maybe I'll let you try. But don't think you're gonna win this," a reply from ShyVelvet popped. He laughs softly, running a hand through his hair.

Ishaan replies back "Oh, I love a fight. Keep hiding--I'll trace and unmask you."

She bites her lip, a thrill zipping through her veins. The heat pooling in her belly scares her--she should stop, delete this, go back to her quiet life.

But she can't. Not yet. She replied, "Keep dreaming, stalker. I'm a ghost you'll never catch. Here to haunt you. Like what you do to others."

Across town, Ishaan sprawled on his bed, shirtless, the phone's glow catching the sweat on his abs. The message from ShyVelvet stopped him cold

Ishaan froze, rereading her message. "What the fuck?" he muttered. "Not Madhuri's account? Someone else? A friend? A trick?" His mind spun, excitement and confusion tangling together.

"The girl next door? The girl from the library? Who could it be?"

A laugh escaped him--awed, unsteady. "Shit," he breathed, staring at the screen, his cocky edge shaken.

DevilzMask: "Cute. You're good--I'll bite you soon." He hit send, his mind racing. Someone was fucking with him, and he didn't know the board yet.

Madhuri's phone buzzed, his reply a hook she'd set herself. She didn't answer.

"Haha... I'll let him squirm," she muttered, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

She locked her phone, the drawer key glinting on her wrist, and slid into bed. Her body hummed, alive in a way it hadn't been in years.

She'd stepped into the abyss--not as prey, but as a player. And it felt dangerously good.

2.10: The Pawn's Pull

Abhi jolted awake Thursday morning, his phone buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. A barrage of texts from Ishaan lit up the screen, sharp and relentless:

"New player, bro--someone's on my stalker account. I doubt it's your slutty mom. Find out NOW."

He blinked, groggy, the words sinking in slow. "Stalker account? New player? My... mom?" His stomach twisted. "He must be lying," he thought, shoving off the covers.

But doubt gnawed at him as he stumbled to the living room, heart hammering.

Madhuri stood at the stove, flipping parathas, the sizzle of oil filling the kitchen. She'd swapped her usual black blouse and pants for a loose red kurta--casual but striking. She hummed softly, a faint smile curling her lips, and Abhi froze. She looked... different. Lighter. Too light for their usual mornings.

He cleared his throat, voice small. "Maa, uh... did you sleep okay?"

She glanced over, nodding. "Yes, sweetie," she said breezily. "Better than usual." Her tone was happy, but her eyes flicked away, a secret dancing in them.

He sat, picking at his paratha, Ishaan's text burning a hole in his pocket. "Anyone... called or anything?" he ventured, clumsy, fishing.

Madhuri's hand paused mid-flip, her brow creasing. "Why are you asking?" she asked sharply.

Abhi shrank under her gaze. "Just... wondering," he mumbled, looking down.

She stared, then shrugged. "No calls, Abhi. Eat fast and go to your high school." She turned back to the stove, but the air shifted--her guard was up, and he felt it.

At school, Ishaan cornered him at lunch, slamming his tray down with a clang. "Spill it, bro--is she texting anyone?" His voice was low, urgent, his usual swagger cracked.

Abhi blinked, confused. "Texting? I don't know--she didn't say--"

Ishaan cut him off, leaning in. "Some chick's on my stalker account--ShyVelvet. I seriously doubt it's your mom! You understand?"

Abhi shook his head, panic rising. "No! I swear!"

Ishaan's eyes narrowed, then softened, a grin creeping back. "Fine. You're gonna find out. Check her phone--tonight. She's hiding something, and I need it." He clapped Abhi's shoulder, hard, and walked off, leaving him reeling.

"Mom's really texting someone?" Abhi's mind spun. She'd been off lately--smiling, secretive. "Was it her?"

That night, Madhuri sat in the living room, scrolling her main phone while Ramesh dozed on the recliner, his snores a steady hum. Abhi lingered nearby, pretending to read, his eyes darting.

She laughed softly at something, typing fast, and he edged closer. Then he saw it--a second phone, older, cracked screen, tucked beside her on the couch.

His breath caught. "Two phones? Since when?"

He waited, heart pounding, until she stood, leaving it behind to grab water. He lunged, snatching it, swiping to Instagram--ShyVelvet, logged in, a chat open with DevilzMask. He scanned fast--"I'll bite you soon"--and saw her unsent draft:

"Maybe I'm closer than you think, stalker. Guess me first."

His hands shook. "It was her," he muttered, "playing him back." He snapped a photo of the screen, shoving the phone back as she returned, oblivious, humming again.

Ishaan's text came late, sharp and demanding: "Proof, bro--NOW."

Abhi sent the screenshot, fingers trembling as he typed: "It's her. ShyVelvet. She's messing with you."

Across town, Ishaan froze, his phone lighting up his grin. "Holy fuck," he laughed--a low, wicked sound--running a hand through his hair.

"Crazy a dimwit's mom pulled that off! She's been hiding well, your innocent little mommy."

Abhi's reply came shaky: "Stop it, Ishaan! This is messed up. That's my mom. Why'd you make me do this? I didn't want to know this crap."

Ishaan: "Relax, dumbass. You did what I asked. She's been playing a game with me, but the game's mine now--and you're gonna watch me win."

Ishaan leaned back, smirking. "Didn't think she had it in her, huh? Guess she's not so boring after all."

Abhi curled up on his bed, glasses off, the pull of this dark thrill undeniable--a drug he couldn't quit.

But then the thought hit: "She'd kill me if she knew I'm behind this."

Upstairs, Madhuri smirked at her alt phone, finally sending that draft to DevilzMask: "Maybe I'm closer than you think, stalker. Guess me first." A subtle jab tying back to his earlier taunt--"Keep me close--I'll show you more." She locked it away in her drawer, pride swelling.

She'd turned the tables, or so she thought. The mask was fully on now, grinning in the dark, ready to strike back.

But across town, Ishaan's grin widened too. He had her screenshot. Her game. Her move. And now, he held the strings.