"Rain, Saree, and a Secret Desire"
The monsoon had arrived early in Mumbai that year. Streets shimmered with puddles, and the sky wept with joy. For Neha, however, the rain brought a storm of another kind—one that raged inside her. Read More Stories: Click Here She was 32, married, and a mother of one. Her husband, Sameer, was loving but always busy. Their conversations had reduced to grocery lists and parent-teacher meetings. Neha often felt like a beautifully decorated shelf—admired from afar, untouched for years. That evening, as rain lashed the windows, she stepped out onto the balcony in her cotton saree, letting the drops kiss her skin. The fabric clung to her curves, outlining every inch of her body. She closed her eyes, letting the moment soak into her—when a voice called out from the next balcony. "Beautiful weather, Neha didi," said Arjun, her 23-year-old tenant who lived upstairs. She smiled, a little surprised by his voice. Arjun was a quiet boy—polite, respectful, and always lost in his book...
