It was night and time for the shift to end. The manager called the staffs one by one and handed out the envelopes. When he placed mine in my hand, my heart fluttered.
Inside the envelop was ₹12,000, My first salary, for a second, I just stared at it, unable to believe it was real. Money I earned with my own hands… through long shifts, aching feet, and endless plates.
Shanthi sister noticed my expression and smiled. “Happy, ah?”
I nodded like a child. I bought some sweets and shared them with Shanthi sister, and later, when I reached the hostel, I gave some to Aarthi as well. I placed the envelope carefully inside my cupboard, touched it once more, and smiled. I felt genuinely proud of myself.
I told Aarthi about my decision to shift to a new place. At first, she felt it would be safer for me to continue staying in the hostel, but I explained the necessity of saving money and building a life of my own. After listening, she understood, agreed with me, and felt truly happy for my decision.
A week later, on the next Sunday, I packed my small bag, folded the few clothes I owned, and cleaned up my side of the hostel room. Aarthi helped me carry my things down the stairs.
“Take care, Meera, and call me if you need anything. Anything.” she said, pulling me into a tight hug.
“I will, thank you… for everything. Truly.” I said, smiling.
We went to the warden’s office next. I thanked her politely for letting me stay all these days, and she wished me well with a kind smile. With that, I stepped out of the hostel gate towards my new beginning.
Shanthi sister was already waiting for me near the bus stop. “Ready, Meera ?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
“More than ever,” I said.
She held my hand as we walked toward a nearby market. Together, we bought the basic things I needed, a few steel vessels for cooking, a kerosene stove, a small stainless-steel water drum, a mattress, a pillow, a bedsheet, and a bucket, mug for bathroom. Shanthi sister bargained like a pro while I stood there wide-eyed. She even picked out a small flowered bedsheet for me with a proud smile.
“These will last long, One-time investment, Meera. Don’t worry.” she said.
By afternoon, we reached my new home. The room felt brighter than the last time I saw it. Maybe because this time, it was mine. We arranged the vessels neatly in the kitchen corner, spread the mattress on the floor, placed the pillow and bedsheet, and organized everything the best we could.
Within an hour, the tiny house started looking like a home.
“I will make coffee, let’s inaugurate new home ” I said grinning and opened the fresh packet of milk. The little stove hissed to life, and within minutes, the aroma of boiling milk filled the room. My first coffee… in my own house.
I poured the coffee into two steel tumblers and handed one to Shanthi sister. She took a sip, looked around the small space, and smiled with genuine warmth.
“You deserve this, Meera, a place of your own… peace of your own.” she said softly.
I looked at my tiny room, the sunlight slipping through the window. It felt beautiful and it felt earned. And I felt… happy.
Shanthi sister went back to her home, and by evening she returned with food for me, insisting that I should rest after all the work we had done throughout the day. I thanked her sincerely, and after she left, I called Radhika Didi to tell her about my new home. She was overjoyed for me. She also told me about Rakesh’s latest wedding and said she herself was planning to shift soon fed up with all the nuisance.
I had my dinner, washed the plates, and lay down on the mattress with my mobile.
With nothing else to distract me, I opened Wattpad, scrolling through the stories. One title caught my eye, a short erotic romance, not too lengthy, something readers described as emotional and intimate.
Curiosity tugged at me and I clicked on it.
The first chapter started gently, two strangers meeting unexpectedly, their conversations warm, their chemistry undeniable. As I continued reading, the story grew more intense, filled with longing glances, soft touches, and stolen breaths between the characters. Nothing vulgar… just raw, honest desire wrapped in emotion.
For the first time, I found myself blushing over words on a screen.
The heroine felt alive, powerful, wanted and somehow, I could imagine myself in her place. The way the hero admired her, the way he respected her boundaries, the way he touched her only when she asked, it stirred something warm in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in years.
The story wasn’t just about passion. It was about tenderness. About being seen, about being loved without fear.
I kept reading, chapter after chapter, lost in the intensity of their connection. By the time I finished the story, a soft smile tugged at my lips. It was short, but it left behind a gentle heat, a comfort… a reminder that love could be sweet, slow, and safe.
In my new home, I felt warmth settle around me like a blanket and I drifted to sleep with a blush still lingering on my cheeks.
Days passed in the same routine, and through conversations with the staff, I learned that I needed a bank account and had to update the address on my government ID cards. I took permission for a few hours, applied for an address change, and submitted my PAN card application as well.
In the middle of all this, I received a call from my mother, something I had completely forgotten about amidst my busy schedule. I answered quickly and told her I would call her back after work.
That night, after returning home and lying down on my mattress, I finally dialed her number.
“How are you, Meera?” she asked, her voice trembling. Immediately, I sensed something was wrong.
“I’m doing fine, Amma. How are you all?” I replied.
“We’re okay, where are you staying, Meera? We’re so worried about you. Your father has become so weak. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice cracked. “Please tell me where you are, Meera. Let me see you once just to know you’re safe. I know you hate us, but please… forgive us.” she said softly.
She took an exaggerated, shaky breath, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m fine, Amma, don’t worry about me. I found a home for myself, and I’m working now, so there’s nothing you need to worry about. My job keeps me out most of the time, so I’ll let you know about meeting later. For now, you take care.” I said and before she could say anything else, I cut the call not out of anger, but because I didn’t have the strength to open old wounds that were still healing.
And I lay there in the quiet, reminding myself that I had chosen this life… and I had to be strong for it.
I opened Wattpad and started a new story, this one about a man who was madly in love with a girl and would do anything to win her heart. From the very first chapter, their chemistry pulled me in. His devotion, his small gestures, the way he watched her like she was the only person who existed… it drove me a little crazy.
As the story unfolded, he finally realized she loved him too, and the way he handled her emotions, gentle but intense, patient but determined made something warm bloom inside me.
Every scene between them felt alive. Every stolen moment, every near-touch, every unspoken feeling… I felt all of it.
When he brushed her hair aside, it felt as if someone had touched my cheek. When he held her hand in the story, my palms tingled. When he whispered his love, my heart fluttered like it hadn’t in years.
It wasn’t just romance. It was the way the story made me feel seen, wanted, understood.
I wasn’t just reading about the female lead, I was slowly becoming her… feeling her excitement, her nervousness, her breathless anticipation as if they were mine.
For the first time in my life, a man’s fictional love made me feel something real… something warm… something I didn’t know I still had inside me. The loneliness I had carried for so long felt a little lighter, replaced by the soft glow of emotions I thought I would never experience again.
As the story deepened, I found myself lowering my phone and staring at the dimly lit walls of my tiny room. The silence felt different tonight warmer, softer, almost as if I wasn’t alone.
For a moment, I imagined the fictional man beside me.
Not touching me…Not doing anything wrong…Just being there.
Sitting close, the way he sat with the female lead in the story, quiet, steady, protective. I imagined him leaning slightly toward me, his presence comforting, his warmth filling the empty corners of my home. The way he listened to her, the way he understood her silence… I pictured him listening to mine.
In my mind, he wasn’t a character anymore. He was a feeling…. gentle, patient, unhurried.
I imagined him looking at me with those soft, determined eyes described in the story… as if he saw the woman I was trying to become. As if he saw the strength in my scars. As if he wasn’t scared of the broken parts of me I hid from the world.
And in that quiet fantasy, I felt Safe, Wanted and Enough.
It wasn’t about longing for a man, it was about longing for the feeling of being valued…held… and understood.
I closed my eyes and let myself believe he was right there beside me. I imagined him sliding closer, wrapping an arm around me in a warm, protective cuddle.
In that soft, imagined voice of his, he whispered, “You’re not alone anymore… I’ve got you.”
Those words settled over me like a blanket.
My heartbeat slowed, my breathing eased, and with the feeling of his comforting presence still lingering in my mind, I drifted into sleep, held by the warmth of a man who existed only in the pages of a story, yet made me feel safer than anyone ever had.
Shanthi sister teased me about the sudden glow on my face, but I only shrugged, too shy to admit that I had spent the night fantasizing about a man from a novel. Still, my day felt lighter, and I couldn’t wait to return home and continue the story.
After the lunch rush, I finished cleaning the tables and sat on the small stool in the staff room. I counted the tips I had received so far, it counted 200 rupees and I still had eight hours left in the shift. That meant I could easily make another 200 by the end of the day.
My sarees were beginning to wear out from being used repeatedly, so I decided I would buy three more salwars to manage. And of course, I planned to get them from the market street, they affordable, simple, and perfect for work.
I returned home and as soon as the door shut behind me, I closed my eyes for a second and in that moment, I felt it again.
A pair of arms around my waist. Not real…but warm in my mind, comforting in a way reality never had been.
I imagined him pulling me gently against his chest, his breath brushing my ear as he whispered,
“Long day? I missed you.”
The words were soft, soothing… the kind that made my lips curve into an involuntary smile after an exhausting shift.
He pressed his palms against my arms, slow and reassuring, as if telling me without words that I wasn’t carrying my life alone anymore. My body relaxed under the imagined warmth of his touch…. gentle, protective, never crossing a line.
I walked to my mattress and sat down, letting the day’s tiredness settle around me. In my mind, he followed, sitting at my feet, his presence grounding me. He reached for my ankles, his thumbs moving in slow, comforting circles as if he knew exactly how much they ached from standing all day.
“Rest, I’ve got you tonight too.” he murmured in that calming voice only my imagination could give him.
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A/N:
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