Damodaran, the father, along with his second wife Valsala, came to visit their daughter Divya's home after her marriage. Divya and her husband, Prashant, are both working professionals. Since Prashant works from home, he is often the one you'd find at the house. Divya, a fashion designer, leaves for work in the morning and returns only late at night.
Ting... ting... The doorbell rang, and Divya opened the door. Her face lit up with joy when she saw who it was.
Divya: "Prashant, look who's here!"
(Standing before her were her father, Damodaran, and stepmother, Valsala, holding a few snacks in their hands.)
Hearing Divya's voice, Prashant, who was working on his laptop, came to the hall. He was delighted to see Divya's father and stepmother and warmly welcomed them inside.
Prashanth: "When did you leave home?"
Damodaran smiles and says,
"Yesterday night, dear. We wanted to surprise you both."
Vatsala adds,
"We brought some homemade snacks, your favorites, Divya."
Divya's eyes sparkle with delight as she takes the snacks from her stepmom.
Prashanth offers,
"Please sit, I'll get some coffee. How was your journey?"
Damodaran: "We left in the evening, booked a sleeper bus."
Vatsala: "This heat is unbearable. Climate's changed so much. Not much relief here either."
As they chat, Divya heads to the kitchen with Vatsala to prepare snacks.
Divya asks Vatsala quietly:
"How's everything at home, stepmom? Is Dad's back pain any better? Did the guru's medicine help?"
Vatsala sighs:
"No change... guru's medicine didn't work... still the same."
Then Vatsala's gaze drifts to Divya's chest, and her expression changes subtly...
The tension is palpable.
Vatsala's eyes linger on Divya's curves, her lips parting slightly as she bites her lower lip gently – a gesture that hints at unexpected desire.
Suddenly, Prashanth's voice echoes from the living room, breaking the intimate moment:
"Divya, where's the coffee? Your dad's asking about his favorite filter coffee!"
Divya's eyes widened in shock as Vatsala's hands unexpectedly caressed her curves.
"What are you doing, Stepmom?" Divya whispered, her voice trembling with confusion and alarm.
Vatsala's smile was unnerving – a slow, sultry curve of her lips – as her gaze locked intensely onto Divya's.
Just then, Prashanth's voice echoed from the living room, "Divya, is the coffee ready?"
Divya's heart raced.