𝐕𝐄𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀~
A 30-year-old accountancy professor known for his cold and unapproachable demeanor. His sharp intellect and no-nonsense attitude command respect in the classroom, where his presence alone is enough to maintain order. He...
SINCE YOU GUYS WERE REQUESTING SO MUCH, HERE IS AN ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR YOU.
PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME.
TARGET~ 1.7K VOTES .
I WILL NOT UPDATE THE NEXT ONE UNTIL TARGET IS COMPLETED.
ENJOY READING.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
°~•~°
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Three days passed, and now I was finally free from my periods. It's a different kind of achievement and joy that only girls would truly understand. But honestly, it wasn't as troublesome as I had anticipated. This time, everything went pretty smoothly, almost as if my body had decided to cut me some slack.
The past few days had been surprisingly calm between us. Ever since that night, things felt... different. He didn't mention anything about what happened, and neither did I. We just carried on with our routines, like a silent agreement to not bring it up. But there was a subtle shift in the air between us, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
Today, I woke up feeling lighter, both physically and mentally. Maybe it was the relief of my period being over, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, I was ready to tackle the day.
I got ready for college and made my way downstairs. The mansion felt unusually quiet today; it was just the two of us. Dadi and Sushmika aunty had gone to visit some relatives, and I wasn't sure when they'd be back. Even the cook aunty had taken a leave for two days due to her child's illness, so the kitchen was all mine.
As I walked into the kitchen, a sense of determination filled me.
Mr. Singhania had suggested that we could have breakfast at a restaurant, but I declined. After observing the cook aunty over the past three weeks, I felt confident enough to prepare breakfast myself. It seemed like a small but meaningful gesture, something I wanted to do for us.
I decided to prepare a hearty breakfast of alooparatha. The aroma of spiced, stuffed parathas filled the kitchen as I rolled out the dough, carefully stuffing it with a flavorful mixture of mashed potatoes, cumin, coriander, and a hint of chili. The parathas sizzled on the hot griddle, their golden-brown crusts forming beautifully.
