The train rattled steadily across the last few kilometers of Odisha’s dusty landscape. Rudra slouched against the window of the AC compartment, staring at the blurry fields rushing by. His master's degree from JNU was now behind him — two years of wild energy, endless debates, stolen kisses in dark alleys — and now, home.
Home, to Bhubaneswar. Home, to boredom.

He sighed, tugging at the loose collar of his shirt. His house was big, too big for him alone now. His parents were abroad for a few years on a project, leaving the ancestral home under the care of Rekha, the loyal housemaid who had lived there for over a decade. She practically ran the house — cooking, cleaning, organizing — but beyond her quiet presence, Rudra expected nothing but silence and slow, dragging days ahead.

He thought about it bitterly.
No friends left here. No real excitement. Just me... and Rekha.

A strange thought drifted through him — Rekha.
She wasn’t old, not really. Thirty-seven, if he remembered right. Strong, broad-hipped, dusky skin browned from years of outdoor work. She wasn’t the shy, frail maid type either — she had a bold way of speaking sometimes, looking straight into your eyes without fear, a sway in her movements that once or twice had caught his young, restless gaze.
Back then, he hadn’t dared to look too long. But now... now he was a man, not a boy.
And he would be living with her. Alone.

Rudra’s jeans grew a little tight as his mind wandered.
He shifted awkwardly in his seat, hiding himself under his backpack.
What the fuck am I even thinking... he scolded himself.
She’s just Rekha. The maid. Nothing more.

But deep down, something restless stirred inside him — something hungry.

The train screeched into Bhubaneswar station with a long, tired hiss. The heat hit Rudra instantly as he stepped down, his shirt clinging to his back. He saw a familiar figure waiting near the dusty parking lot — Rekha, in a simple orange saree tucked tight around her waist, waving with a casual smile.

She looked different than he remembered. Fuller, more womanly. There was a glint in her eyes too — not just welcome, but something else... curiosity? Appraisal?

“Babu, kitna badal gaye ho!” she laughed, reaching for his bag.

Rudra smiled awkwardly, letting her take the heavier bag.
As they walked towards the old white Scorpio she had driven here, Rudra couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down her back — the loose pallu barely hiding the strong curves of her hips, the sway of her full behind.

Loneliness gnawed at him already.
Maybe this homecoming wouldn’t be so boring after all.

**