By noon, the house was spotless again — or at least looked that way.
The laughter had returned, the smell of biryani filled every corner, and no one suspected that upstairs, a certain honey jar on Soumik's bedside table had been discreetly wiped clean.
Soumik and Mahi hadn't said much since the morning fiasco.
Every time their eyes met across the hallway, one of them looked away too quickly — a silent blush, a suppressed grin, a secret only they shared.
When the lunch bell rang, the entire family gathered around the huge dining table.
The living room was buzzing — uncles, aunties, cousins — all talking at once. The Eid biryani was steaming, kebabs still sizzling in the center. Laughter echoed, someone poured Rooh Afza into steel glasses, and elders argued passionately about politics and cricket.
But Soumik?
He wasn't hearing any of it.
Because under the table — hidden behind flowing tablecloth and chatter — Mahi's hand was on his thigh.
And moving up.
Soumik (tense, whispering):
"Mahi— don't."
She doesn't answer. Doesn't even look at him.
Still smiling politely at her aunt asking about college.
But her hand slips higher.
Soumik clenches his jaw. Shifts in his chair. He's hard already — painfully.
Auntie:
"Beta, you've lost weight, na? You're glowing."
Soumik (through teeth):
"Yeah… diet."
Meanwhile, Mahi has unzipped him under the table.
Fingers wrap around him — slow, sly.
Her thumb brushes his tip, teasing.
He grips the edge of the chair.
Hard.
Cousin:
"Bhai, pass the kebabs?"
Soumik (almost chokes):
"Huh— y-yeah— here."
He fumbles, passing the plate with his left hand — his right hiding under the table, trying to stop her.
But Mahi's already leaned down.
Pretending to pick up a fallen spoon.
Her face disappears under the tablecloth.
Soumik stiffens — completely.
Soumik (low whisper):
"Mahi, stop. Someone'll see—"
She doesn't.
Her tongue slides over his tip.
Then down.
He chokes on air.
Uncle:
"You okay, beta? You look red."
Soumik (hoarse):
"Spicy. Biryani's spicy."
Everyone laughs.
He grips the table edge like a lifeline — back stiff, legs shaking.
Underneath, her head's bobbing in his lap — slow, controlled — like she knows what she's doing to him.
He's close.
Too close.
Soumik (desperate whisper):
"Mahi, if you don't stop I'm gonna—"
Too late.
He releases — silently, violently — into her mouth.
She swallows without hesitation.
Fixes his zipper.
Pops back up with a spoon in hand, casually wiping the corner of her mouth.
Mahi (to the table):
"Found it."
She sits beside him like nothing happened.
Soumik turns to her, stunned.
She finally glances at him — just a flash — and smirks.
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