By 7:00 AM, the kitchen was a whirlwind of calculated efficiency. The six-inch heels made my calves burn deliciously as I pivoted between the stove and the marble island. Today was a Poha and stuffed Aloo Paratha day. I rolled out the dough, my dozens of stacked glass and gold bangles clinking musically—a sound the whole house had come to associate with my endless labor.
The family began to descend at 7:30 AM. First was my Father-in-law, Prakash, and Mother-in-law, Meera. "Good morning, Damad," Prakash rumbled, taking his seat at the head of the long dining table.
"Good morning, Babuji. Good morning, Maji," I replied, immediately lowering my eyes. I walked over, my hips swaying exaggeratedly due to the stilettos, my heavy breasts bouncing slightly against the constraints of my low-cut blouse. I poured their piping hot chai, careful not to spill a drop.
Then came my beautiful wife, Ananya. She looked radiant in her crisp business suit, preparing for a day of running the empire I used to own. She sat down, not looking at me right away. I hurried to her side, bringing her a specialized plate of egg-white omelet and fresh avocado. "Your breakfast, Ananya ji," I murmured softly, my eyes fixed firmly on the polished wood of the table near her plate.
"The eyeliner is a bit thick today, Rahul," she noted casually, sipping her black coffee. "But the lipstick is perfect. Don't smudge it."
"Yes, Ananya ji. Thank you," I whispered, a flush of humiliated pleasure warming my cheeks. Any manliness was strictly forbidden; I was expected to be hyper-feminine, and her critique of my makeup was a loving reminder of my place.
My Sister-in-law, Priya, a fiery college student, bounded down the stairs next, followed by my two children. I served them all, standing at attention near the wall while the seven of them ate. I watched them enjoy the food I prepared, my stomach rumbling slightly, but I knew my place. I would not eat until much later, and only what Ananya left on her plate.
"Rahul," Priya snapped her fingers. "More chutney. And make sure my tiffin has extra paneer today."
"Right away, Priya," I said, hurrying to the kitchen. My heels clicked loudly. I packed three tiffins with nutrient-dense meals: two for the kids, one for Priya. Once they finished eating, the chaos of departure began. I fetched Aarav and Diya's backpacks, straightening their collars.
Once Ananya, Priya, and the kids left in their respective chauffeured cars, I returned to the dining room. It was a disaster zone. I spent the next hour washing every dish by hand, the soapy water threatening to ruin my bangles, before meticulously sanitizing the massive kitchen sink.
At 9:30 AM, while Sunita the maid arrived to start her sweeping, I took a seat in the small pantry office. I pulled out my laptop, my long red fingernails clicking over the keys. I reviewed our family's investment portfolios. I noticed a tech stock dipping and immediately called our investment manager.
"Yes, Mr. Sharma, shift 15% from the tech index into municipal bonds," I instructed in a soft, controlled voice. I was still a financial genius, but the irony was thick—I could move millions of dollars in the market, but I had to literally beg Ananya for a thousand rupees to buy groceries later that afternoon, providing every single receipt to prove I hadn't wasted a dime.
Discussion (2)
Great story, if you could add how and why he accepted this role it will be great
Thank you. I am kind of against the idea on how and why my characters accept their role. I feel its good if users imagine themselves why it happened, we all have our own background stories, i want everyone to feel they are part of the story where they are living their best life, and they can imaging their own background on how they reached there. But if people think they want me to add background of these characters I will add it. Let me know. Thank you again for your comment, really appreciate it.