Aryan Malhotra 6:05 PM Twenty-three years is a long time — respect for that. It sounds like you’ve built a meaningful life around teaching and family. I’m still figuring out my own path after the move. It’s nice to have these exchanges too. They make the city feel less anonymous. If you ever want to recommend more books or just chat about literature (or anything else that comes up), I’m here. No expectations.
He sent it and waited, heart beating fast. The chat had gone longer and warmer than he expected. She hadn’t shut it down. She was still replying.
The reply came after dinner, while the family was watching some old Holi songs on TV in the living room. Keshav sat on the sofa next to Sonam, but his attention was on his phone hidden in his lap.
Kalpana Rao 8:22 PM Thank you, Aryan. That’s a kind offer. I don’t usually chat with strangers like this, but your messages have been respectful and genuine. It’s been a pleasant surprise on a busy Holi day. I might take you up on the book recommendations sometime. For now, I should get some rest — tomorrow the college has some events. Take care.
Keshav stared at the message. She was ending for the night but leaving the door open. She enjoyed it. She said it was a pleasant surprise. She’s talking to “Aryan” because he’s decent… like those other guys she replied to. The mix of pride, guilt, and arousal was confusing and strong. He typed one last reply before putting the phone away.
Aryan Malhotra 8:31 PM Rest well, Professor. Holi can be tiring with all the colours and energy. I hope your college events go smoothly tomorrow. And yes — whenever you feel like chatting about books (or anything), I’ll be here. Good night.
He locked the phone and slipped it into his pocket. The house was winding down. Sonam had gone to her room. Kalpana was in the kitchen finishing some last-minute things. Keshav went to his room, closed the door, and lay on the bed. His mind was racing with everything — the chat, her warmth, the way she had mentioned her husband being busy, the videos and pictures he now knew existed, the way she had looked covered in colours today.
She replied to me for hours. As Aryan. She doesn’t know it’s her son. But I know everything about her now — the way she looks naked, the videos she made, the men who send her dick pics that she blocks, the few she actually talks to. And she talked to me. His cock was half-hard again from the thoughts. He didn’t touch himself this time. He just lay there, questions flooding his mind. What am I doing? This started because I was pent up and saw something I shouldn’t have. Now I’m chatting with her like this. It feels good… but it’s wrong. Isn’t it? She seemed to enjoy the conversation. Maybe she needs this. Maybe I need it too after everything.
He fell asleep eventually, the phone on the bedside table, the fake account still open in his mind.
The next morning, Holi colours still lingered on the society walls and trees. Keshav woke up and immediately checked the account. No new message yet. But the previous night’s chat was still there, real and warm.
