Leo felt like he was having déjà vu.
Once again, the bedroom was a crime scene.
Leo stood in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing the back of his neck.
The room he was staring at currently had twisted bedsheets, pillows on the floor, and even wet patches on the carpet.
'That's the result of two weeks of pent-up Cookie,' he thought. It was good that his stamina had no problem keeping up.
'I need a housekeeper. A discreet one. With a non-disclosure agreement,' was Leo's final thought.
Earlier that afternoon, Cookie had left. Dressed again in her red blazer and still humming, she gave him a kiss on the cheek at the door and announced that she would start looking at engagement rings again "just in case."
Leo had just smiled, gave her small curvy Chinese ass a light spanking on her way out, closed the door behind her, and locked it.
He hit the shower next. He stood under the water longer than he needed to, letting the heat wash off everything. Cookie had gone overboard with kissing every part of him, leaving her saliva everywhere. He toweled off, shaved, and picked out something simple but sharp for the meeting with the lawyer.
It was six-fifteen when he pulled out of the driveway.
The motel Manjula had moved into during these hard times was one of those anonymous brown-brick places on the north edge of Springfield. It had a flickering VACANCY sign and had a coin-operated ice machine rusting by the stairwell outside. It looked shabby and cheap. Leo could only imagine what the inside of the rooms looked like.
Leo pulled into the parking lot at exactly six-twenty-nine and went to the door number that Manjula had sent him.
He knocked twice.
There was a small pause, the sound of a chain being unlatched, and then the door opened.
Manjula stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her, wearing a darker sari than he was used to seeing on her. It had a deep wine red look with minimal gold. She'd kept her hair in that long thick braid, black over one shoulder. The dim hallway light behind her caught the curve of her hip and the softness of the rest of her body through the silk, and Leo's eyes did what Leo's eyes always did. They indulged in her beauty. Her boobs that he had once seen bounce in front of him were outlined well.
"You look nice," he said.
"Thank you." Her voice was quiet. "I was not sure what one wears to this."
"Whatever you wore would've been fine." He nodded toward the car at the curb. "Get in."
She stepped out, pulled the door closed behind her, and followed him down the short path, her hips moving under the silk in a way he tried not to stare at. He opened the passenger door for her, and as she slid into the seat, the leather molded into her shape, reminding him of the way her body had melted into his when he had held her and fucked her while she laid on her back.
For the first few minutes she didn't say anything. She just looked out the window at the dark streets, her hands folded in her lap, her knuckles a little tight. Leo let the silence sit. He was good at reading when a woman needed to be pressed and when she needed to be left alone, and right now she was somewhere in between.
"And the kids? Where did they end up?" he finally asked.
"With Apu." She said, "I dropped them back off with him after you told me about tonight. He didn't ask questions. He was just happy I was bringing them back."
"And you're okay with that?"
"For tonight… " she paused, "I am okay with anything that will help me in my new self journey."
He smiled. "That sounds healthy."
"I know." She exhaled, long and slow, and some of the tension went out of her shoulders.
They drove another couple of minutes. The highway opened up in front of them. Manjula had shifted in her seat, the tight hem of her sari riding up slightly, exposing the lower half of one toned brown calf and the top of her ankle. Leo's eyes flicked down.
Then, almost absentmindedly, but not really absentmindedly at all, he let his right hand drift off the gear shift and settle on her thigh.
She flinched, very slightly. Not a pulling-away flinch, but a noticing flinch.
Leo thought it was a funny reaction. He had already pushed part of him into her virgin asshole the night before, but Manjula was currently acting as if they were young first-time lovers.
Leo decided not to squeeze. He just rested his hand there, warm through the silk, and kept his eyes forward on the road like it was nothing. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, a man driving a woman to her divorce lawyer with one hand casually on her thigh.
After a beat, she let out a small breath, and her own hand came up and rested, very lightly, on top of his.
Leo allowed himself the briefest smirk.
'Progress.'
"I'm nervous," she said softly.
"Don't be. That's what this lawyer is for. You show up, you tell him what happened, he does the rest. That's literally the job."
"And you will be there?"
"The whole time. Unless you want me to step out."
"No." She said it quickly. Too quickly. "No, I would like you to be there."
"Then I'll be there."
He kept his hand on her thigh for the rest of the drive. Neither of them brought it up again.
…
Richard's office was in a squat, tan-brick professional building about twenty minutes outside Springfield. Leo hoped, selfishly, that being this far outside the Springfield city limits meant Richard had been spared of the particular brand of lunacy that seemed to infect most of the Springfield town residents.
A small bell jingled when Leo pushed the door open.
The waiting room was empty except for the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with reading glasses, who looked up and smiled.
"Mrs. Nahasapeemapetilon?"
"Yes," Manjula said.
"Go on in, he's expecting you."
Richard's actual office was at the end of a short hallway. The door was already cracked. Leo pushed it the rest of the way open and let Manjula in first, one hand on her back.
Inside, the man with wire-rimmed glasses behind the desk stood up to greet them.
"Richard Deez," he said, extending a hand. "You must be Manjula. German tells me good things about the gentleman who sent you."
"Thank you for seeing us on short notice." Manjula told him.
His eyes slid sideways to Leo. He shook Leo's hand as well.
"And you are the gentlemen, I assume?"
"Yes. Leo Depp. Friend of Manjula's."
"Friend." Richard repeated the word. "Please, both of you, have a seat."
They sat. Richard settled back into his own chair, folded his hands on the desk, and gave Manjula a small, professional smile.
"Before we go any further, I'd like to hear it from you. In your own words. What brings you here tonight?"
Manjula took a breath. Leo saw her hands close tighter around the edge of her sari.
"My husband," she said carefully, "has been having an affair."
"For how long, to your knowledge?"
"I do not know exactly. Months. Maybe longer. I caught him with a woman in our store. A delivery driver."
Richard's pen, which had not been moving, started moving.
"Proof? Photographs? Messages? Anything written or recorded?"
Manjula hesitated for a moment. Then her jaw set, just slightly, and something harder came into her voice.
"The store has security cameras."
Richard's eyebrows went up. "And you have access to that?"
"I have lived above that store for eight years," Manjula said quietly. "I know every inch of it. I know the password to the recorder. He thinks I do not, but I do. I watched him type it in once, years ago, when he thought I was not looking."
"How far back does the system record?"
"Thirty days. Maybe sixty. It is old."
Richard was writing fast now. "And the footage… you've seen it?"
"Yes." Her voice dropped a little. "That is how I caught them. I had suspicions. He was coming upstairs later and later. Slowly asked less of me. So one afternoon, when he was out, I went into the office and I watched. I scrolled back through the delivery days, one by one."
She looked down at her hands.
"At first it was only flirting. Him touching the small of her back when she brought cases in. I thought, perhaps this is only that. Perhaps he is only a foolish man who wanted attention. But I kept watching. And then one day the camera showed him taking her into the back room, the same room I was sitting in to watch the tapes. And then he… and she —that—," she stopped herself from finishing.
Her hand tightened in her lap.
"He did not even close the door all the way. The camera could see them. It saw everything."
Leo kept his face perfectly still.
"I took the drive out of the recorder that same day," Manjula went on, her voice steadier now. "I wanted to burn it. I was going to. I was so angry I could not see straight. But I could not bring myself to destroy it. I do not know why I didn't back then."
"Where is the drive now?" Richard asked.
"In the trunk of Leo's car."
"Good." He made another note. "Children?"
"Eight."
Richard's pen stopped. Just for a second. Then it kept moving, a little more slowly.
"Eight," he said evenly.
"Octuplets," Manjula clarified. "They are all the same age."
"Ah." Another note. "Primary caregiver?"
"Me. Always me."
"And your husband's income? Assets?"
"He owns the Kwik-E-Mart. The building and the business. We live… lived in an apartment above it, but he owns a second property as well. Some land on the outskirts he bought years ago for reasons he never told me." Her voice was getting steadier as she went. "There is a savings account. I do not know the balance. He handles that."
"Retirement accounts? Investments? What are they for?"
"I do not know."
"That's all right. We'll find out." Richard set his pen down and laced his fingers. "Manjula, I want to be direct with you. Based on what you're describing, you have what I would call a very strong case. Very strong. In this state you have enormous leverage. And a business owner with real property and cash reserves is, frankly, a lawyer's wet dream."
Leo allowed himself the smallest smile. Manjula seemed like she was about to fuck over Apu in assets.
And Leo? Leo was just going to keep fucking Manjula.
Richard continued.
"So… what do you want out of this? Some women want a quick, clean exit. Some want to be made whole. Some want, hmmm, lets say… blood. These are very different cases and they require very different strategies."
Manjula opened her mouth and then closed it again. She didn't know.
Leo stepped in.
"She wants to be made whole," he said. "Child support that actually reflects all the work she's done. A fair cut of the business. The second property. And whatever's in those accounts he hasn't told her about."
Richard looked at him. "That's a lot."
"I think she's earned a lot."
A quiet beat passed. Then Richard nodded, slowly.
"I don't disagree, Mr. Depp." He turned back to Manjula. "Is that accurate to what you want?"
"…Yes," she said, almost surprised to hear it out loud. "Yes. That is what I want."
"Then that is what we will go after." Richard picked his pen back up. "One more question. Do you know who your husband is likely to hire as a lawyer if we proceed?"
"I do not know specifically. But—" She hesitated. "In Springfield, there is really only one name people use. For anything. Lawyer, realtor, I believe also tax advice. My husband would not think to look elsewhere. He never looks elsewhere."
"And this name is?"
"Lionel Hutz."
Leo had to work to keep the grin off his face. Wasn't that the guy who was in charge of real estate when he first moved here? He wasn't that great at that and now he's a lawyer? Only a Springfield resident would have no problem hiring someone with a record like this. His smile only grew bigger.
"So what's the next step?" Leo asked.
"Mrs. Nahasapeemapetilon gets me a copy of that drive. Tonight, ideally. I have equipment here to clone it before you leave."
"I can do that," she said.
"Good. That saves us a day. Normally I'd have a petition drafted and filed within about ten days. Given what you've handed me… I think we can have this filed within the week. Once the petition is served on him, a temporary restraining order on marital assets goes into effect automatically. He can't move money, sell property, or change account holders without notifying the court. From there, we negotiate. If he contests, we go to mediation. If mediation fails, we go in front of a judge. Given the strength of the case, most respondents in his position settle before that happens. Realistically, you are looking at a few weeks, not months or years."
"A few weeks," Manjula repeated quietly.
"A few weeks."
"And in the meantime?" she asked.
"In the meantime, you do not go home. Don't stay somewhere where he can find you. You do not meet him alone. You do not, under any circumstances, sign anything he puts in front of you. If he wants to talk, he talks to me. Is that clear?"
"Yes."
"Good." Richard slid a business card across the desk. "My cell. Day or night until this is done. One last thing, and I tell every client this, so don't take it personally. Until the ink is dry on this divorce, you are still legally married. Anything that could be framed as a new relationship during proceedings can be used against you." He looked at Leo. "Opposing counsel will look for it. Be cautious about who you see, where you're seen, and who you're photographed with. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Manjula said quietly.
Richard's eyes flicked, briefly and meaningfully, back to Leo.
"Good. I'll be in touch tomorrow about the filing."
…
They walked back out through the empty waiting room and into the cool parking lot. Manjula was quiet until they reached the car, and then she let out a long, shaky breath, like she'd been holding it for the entire meeting.
"That was—" she started.
"Easier than you thought?"
"Yes." She turned to him, her eyes a little wet. "Leo. Thank you."
He opened the passenger door for her and tilted his head slightly.
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when the check clears and you're starting fresh."
She laughed and got in.
Leo closed the door behind her, walked around to his side, and slid in. He started the engine but didn't pull out of the lot yet. Instead, he let it idle for a moment, one hand on the wheel, thinking.
"Manjula."
"Hm?"
"I'm not taking you back to that motel."
Her head came up. "What?"
"You heard what he said. Don't go home. Don't be alone with Apu or somewhere he can find you. Don't sign anything." Leo looked over at her. "And that place you're staying at… the lock on your room is probably older than I am. The kind of guy working that front desk would hand out your room number for a twenty-dollar bill, and Apu has twenty dollars. He'll probably look for you and beg. Maybe… maybe even use the kids as some sort of last minute plea to keep you with him."
She was quiet.
"I've got four empty bedrooms at my place," he continued, "Nobody knows you're there. Stay with me tonight."
She looked down at her hands.
'And the other thing Richard just said,' Leo thought, keeping his face flat, 'is that nothing I do with her for the next few months should leave a visible trace. Which, conveniently, is not a problem. Being seen is the risk. My house is where nobody sees anything.'
He watched her think.
On her side of the car, Manjula was doing her own thinking. It was not lost on her that she had already been in Leo's house, in Leo's bed, in a way no proper woman ought to have been. It was so recently she had done it. It complicated things enormously. It meant her "friend" was not really a friend in the way a lawyer would want a friend to be.
"Leo," she said finally, "he told us — Richard told us — about new relationships during proceedings. That anything they can frame like that can hurt the case. Did you hear him?"
"I heard him."
"Then—"
"Manjula. What hurts the case is being seen. Not existing somewhere. I don't have curious neighbors who write things down." He shrugged. "The safest place for your case, right now, is the one place nobody is looking."
He could see her working through it. Her dark brows was drawn together. She wanted a reason to say yes, he could see that too. She just needed permission to give herself one.
"And the kids?" she asked.
"They stay with Apu a couple more days, like we talked about. Once the petition's filed and he's been served, we can start figuring out where they go and how. You can't pick them up tonight anyway. It's late."
She nodded slowly.
"…All right."
"All right?"
"All right. I will stay with you."
"Good." Leo put the car in drive. "We'll stop at the motel on the way. You grab your things, we're in and out in fifteen minutes. Nobody sees us."
…
…
…
[Manjula's POV]
The room Leo had given her was on the second floor, at the far end of the hallway. It was one she hadn't been in before.
The room itself was large. Larger, she thought, than the entire first floor of the apartment above the Kwik-E-Mart. It had a king bed against one wall, a long dresser, and a window that looked out onto a very well kept dark lawn.
Leo had been a perfect gentleman about it. Shown her where the bathroom was. Asked if she needed anything. Told her to sleep as long as she wanted in the morning, that there was no rush to be anywhere. Then he had said good night, closed the door behind him, and walked away.
And now she was alone.
Manjula sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, still fully dressed, her hands folded in her lap the way they had been in the car. Then, slowly, she began to unwind herself from the sari. She folded it carefully on the dresser. She took the pins out of her braid and ran her fingers through her hair until it fell loose and heavy down her back.
She got into the bed in her bra and her panties. They were the high-waisted Indian cotton kind she had worn every night of her adult life.
The room was quiet. Quieter than she was used to. No eight kids were breathing and shifting near here. No flickering neon bleeding in through a window.
Just quiet.
She lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling.
This was the first time she truly slept alone. Not even the kids were in the same room.
Here there was nothing. Just her breathing.
It occurred to her, slowly, that this was the first night of her entire life she had spent completely alone.
And it was terrible.
She turned onto her side and pulled the covers higher.
'This is what I have done,' she thought. 'This is what I am choosing.'
She was thirty-one years old. When she had left India, her aunts had patted her cheeks and told her she was lucky. She had never been asked, in all of that, what she wanted. She had not known she was allowed to want things.
'If I had known,' she thought. 'If I had known I was allowed to choose, I might have chosen something so different.'
But she had not known. And now she was thirty-one years old, with eight children and a husband who had been cheating on her in the back room of a convenience store, and she was lying in a guest bed in her underwear like a girl instead of a wife.
She pushed the covers down for a moment and looked at her body.
Her belly was softer than it had been at twenty. Her breasts were larger than they had been, heavier, held up now by the beige bra she had owned for four years. Her thighs were full and toned from years of carrying children on them, two at a time sometimes. Her skin was a deep, uniform brown.
She was not a girl anymore.
'It is too late,' she thought. " It is too late for anything now.'
But something, somewhere under the ache, whispered back: maybe not everything.
She pulled the covers back up and closed her eyes.
Sleep did not come.
She lay there for what might have been twenty minutes, or an hour.
She thought about Leo.
She was still thinking about Leo when she heard the door open.
She did not move. She kept her eyes closed, her breath slow and even, her body turned to face the window with her back to the door. She knew who it was. There was no one else it could be.
She listened to him cross the carpet. The mattress dipped behind her, very gently.
She kept her eyes closed.
She felt the covers lift for a moment, and then settle again over both of them. She felt the warmth of him behind her before he touched her. And then, slowly, carefully, an arm came around her waist.
His hand settled flat on her stomach, over the soft skin above her navel. His chest pressed lightly against her back. His knees tucked up behind hers.
He didn't say anything. He just held her.
And that was when her body, quietly and without her permission, remembered.
It remembered his hands. The same hands that were resting so gently on her now had, not so long ago, been far less gentle. She could feel the ghost of his grip on her hips. The weight of him above her. The way he had kissed her neck. The way his mouth had felt against her ear when he had whispered things to her that no one had whispered to her in years.
Her stomach flinched under his palm. A small traitor heat bloomed low in her belly, uninvited, embarrassing. She had just come from her lawyer's office. She had signed nothing yet. She was still, in every way that mattered to a court, Apu's wife. And here she was, lying half-dressed in a man's bed, remembering what his mouth felt like, remembering how her body had opened to him in ways she had never opened to anyone, and her body was answering as if it had been asked.
'No,' she thought firmly. 'Not tonight. I cannot. I am not here for that.'
She kept her eyes closed. She kept her breathing even. She waited to see what he would do but he did nothing.
He simply held her.
The small heat in her belly did not go away. Slowly, something in her chest, the tight, aching thing that had kept her awake, began to loosen beside it.
She realized, with a strange small shock, that she had been waiting, in some part of herself, for him to take more. She had been braced for it. And he had not. He had come into this room, gotten into this bed, and chosen, apparently and deliberately, to give her only this.
'He is letting me have it,' she thought. 'Whatever this is. He is letting me have it quietly.'
She did not move. She didn't even open her eyes or turn to face him.
His thumb moved once, slowly, across the skin of her stomach, and then went still.
Her breathing evened out on its own.
Somewhere behind her, she felt his breathing slow too. She wasn't sure of very much right now. She was only sure that she was warm, and that she was held.
She let her eyes stay closed.
And she slept.
[A/N]: Im drunk as balls. So if it's ass, it's because I wrote and edited this under the influence. Bro, apparently there was a Simpson season in fortnite. I must be some sort of fake fan because I missed it. What type of fake Simpson fanfic author am I if I can't even log in and play and get that fat motherfucker. Just kidding, I'm a fake fan hahahahaa. Also I didn't write no sex scenes because I don't want the first thing I write when I come back to be some smut. So enjoy skipping Cookie and enjoy the semi wholesome Manjula, that Indian MILF. What can I say, I have a thing for some desi right now especially with the girl ive been with right now. But after this chapter I'm moving on I swear. Man, I read the first few paragraphs and this shit is choppy as hell man. Thank you to all the people who celebrated some new chapters. I swear I'll pump out some more chapters for you. I checked some of the gifs on paragraph comments and they are funny as hell. Who has some bright ideas for the story tell me I'll consider them if they make sense and they aren't some bs. I should really be saving this chapter but fuck it. Im uploading this and that. Enjoy maybe.Okay poll time. Type what person you're cracking first in the Simpsons. Is it Leo lol. Fckkkkkk 4.2k words.