Morning on the island dawned slowly and warmly.
The sun rose above the jungle canopy, turning the lagoon from silver to turquoise. Birds called from the trees, singing unfamiliar, bright and curious songs. The air smelled of salt, flowers, and the lingering smoke from last night's fire.
Anjali woke slowly, her body tangled with Daya and Madhavi on the sandy floor of the hut. The others were already stirring: Komal was stretching her thick arms overhead; Babita was running her fingers through her tangled hair; and Anita was standing in the doorway, watching the waves. Suyash was outside, his silhouette visible against the morning light as he tended the fire.
She watched him through half-closed eyes. He moved with confidence and ease, completely at home in this strange paradise. He had saved them. Guided them. He had made them feel alive in ways their husbands never had.
And she had been his first.
Not in terms of intercourse, though — Madhavi held that claim. But the first person to touch her. That night, while Taarak was locked in his study and Suyash brought sweets and conversation, his fingers found their way under her skirt and showed her what pleasure could feel like. She stopped him before anything else could happen, clinging to guilt and duty.
Then Taarak's betrayal had shattered everything.
His affair with Priyanka, that young coworker had been going on for months before Anjali discovered it. The confrontation had been ugly. Taarak hadn't even denied it. 'It's just physical, Anjali. You can do what you want too.' As if her heart were a contract he could renegotiate.
That night, she went to Suyash and gave him everything she had held back. It was rough, hardcore sex.
But here, on this island, away from the thin walls and prying eyes of Gokuldham, she wanted more. She wanted to be consumed.
—
The women drifted to the lagoon for their morning bath. The cool, clear water washed away the salt and sand from the previous night's activities. Anjali floated on her back, letting the gentle current rock her. Meanwhile, Babita and Komal splashed around nearby, and Daya washed her hair with fresh spring water.
But her eyes kept finding Suyash.
He had moved from the fire to the tree line to collect fallen branches for firewood. His bare back was bronzed from the sun, and his muscles shifted beneath his skin as he worked. The simple linen trousers he had salvaged from the plane hung low on his hips.
I want him, she thought. Just him. Alone.
She waded to shore, water streaming down her soft, voluptuous body. Her lavender bra and panties—the only clothing she'd kept from the crash—clung to her curves and were nearly transparent when wet. She didn't bother dressing further.
"Where are you going?" Daya called.
"Exploring," Anjali replied, not looking back.
She heard Komal's knowing laugh behind her. "Exploring? Sure."
She found him in a small clearing, perhaps fifty meters inland, where the jungle opened to reveal a natural grove. Soft moss carpeted the ground. Flowering vines draped from the overhanging branches like curtains of purple and white. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in golden shafts.
Suyash was stacking firewood against a fallen log. He looked up as she approached, his expression shifting from focus to appreciation as he took in her wet, nearly naked body.
"Anjali? Everything okay?"
She didn't speak. Instead, she walked to him, took his hand, and led him deeper into the grove, where the moss was thickest and flowering vines formed a natural archway.
"Sit," she whispered.
He sat down.
She knelt before him on the soft moss, her hands resting on his thighs. Her heart pounded, not from fear but from the intense desire that had grown since she watched him across the fire last night, since Babita took him first, and since she waited her turn, leaving her trembling, satisfied, yet still hungry.
"I need to tell you something," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Tell me."
"You were my first touch. My first real pleasure." Her fingers traced up his thighs, feeling the muscle tense beneath them. "When Taarak—when I found out about Priyanka—you were the one who put me back together. You made me feel like I wasn't broken."
"Anjali—"
"Let me finish." Her dark, glistening eyes met his. "On this island, there's no Taarak. No society. No one to judge us. I want to be completely yours. Not just my body—you already have that. I want you to have everything. Every fear. Every doubt. Every part of me that still belongs to my old life."
She reached up, unclasped her bra, and let it fall away. Her full breasts spilled free, her nipples tightening in the warm air. Then, she slid her panties down her hips and over her thighs before tossing them aside.
"Make me forget everything but you."
Suyash looked at her—this soft, beautiful woman who had been his first in so many ways. Her round face was flushed with desire and emotion. Her doe eyes were wet with unshed tears. Her lush, warm body trembled with need.
He reached out and cupped her cheek. "Come here."
She rose and let him guide her down onto the moss. He lay her back gently; the green cushion yielded beneath her. The flowering vines swayed overhead, casting dappled shadows across her naked skin.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes traveling down her body. "You take my breath away every time."
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. "I love you. I know I'm not supposed to say it. I know we're not...but I do. I love you, Suyash."
He kissed her forehead. "I know."
Then, he began to worship her.
His lips traced her temple, cheek, and jawline. He kissed her pulse point, feeling her heartbeat flutter against his mouth. She gasped softly and brought her hands up to grip his shoulders.
"Relax," he breathed against her skin. "Let me take care of you."
He moved lower. His mouth found the swell of her breast. He kissed the soft underside before tracing a slow circle around her nipple with his tongue. She arched into him, a whimper escaping her lips.
"Ah... Suyash..."
He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, first gently, then with increasing pressure. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him there. His hand found her other breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling the peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
"Oh...oh God..."
He switched sides, giving equal attention to both breasts, until she was writhing beneath him, breathing in short, desperate gasps. Her thighs parted instinctively, revealing the glistening pink folds beneath.
"Please," she begged. "Please, I need—"
He kissed down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel. She squirmed, feeling both ticklish and aroused. He went lower still until his breath ghosted over her most intimate place.
"I've wanted to taste you like this," he said in a low, rough voice. "Slowly. Without interruption."
"Yes...please..."
His tongue parted her folds.
Anjali cried out—a sharp, broken sound that echoed through the grove. Her hips bucked against his mouth as he explored her with slow, deliberate strokes. He traced her slit from bottom to top, circled her clit without touching it directly, and dipped inside her entrance just enough to taste her essence.
"Suyash—oh—I can't—"
He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked.
Her back arched off the moss. Her fingers clawed at the ground, his hair, and anything else within reach. The sounds falling from her lips were incoherent—gasps, moans, and fragments of his name strung together like a prayer.
He worked her with patience and precision, learning the rhythm that made her tremble, the pressure that made her gasp, and the exact spot that made her thighs clamp around his head. When he slid two fingers inside her, curling them just so, she shattered.
"I'm—I'm coming—Suyash—!"
Her orgasm crashed through her in waves of pleasure, leaving her sobbing and shaking. He gentled his touch, guiding her through it until she collapsed against the moss, her chest heaving and tears streaming down her cheeks.
He moved up her body, kissing away her tears. "Why are you crying?"
"Because..." She swallowed, struggling for words. "Because it's so right, Being here with you. Being yours. I spent so long feeling guilty, like I was doing something wrong. But this—being here with you, being yours—is the rightest thing I've ever felt."
She pulled him down and kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his lips.
"I want you inside me," she whispered against his mouth. "I want to feel you when I come again."
He positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his cock pressing against her wet, swollen folds. She was soaked—from his mouth, from her own arousal, and from the overwhelming desire of this moment.
"Look at me," he said.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze.
He pushed inside.
Anjali's mouth fell open, a silent gasp caught in her throat. The stretch was exquisite—the feeling of being filled completely and claimed. He moved slowly, giving her time to adjust. He sank deeper with each inch until he was buried to the hilt.
"Ohhh..." The sound escaped her like a sigh. "You feel...so..."
"So do you." His voice was strained with the effort of holding back. "You're always so tight. So perfect."
He began to move, making slow, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper inside her. Her nails raked down his back.
"Harder...please... I want to feel you for days..."
He gave her what she asked for. His pace quickened, his hips snapping forward with controlled power. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the grove, mingling with her breathless moans and his low grunts.
"Yes—yes—just like that—don't stop—"
Her body moved on its own, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. Her breasts bounced with each impact. Sweat slicked their skin. The moss beneath them was damp with their mingled fluids.
"I'm close again, Suyash. I'm—"
He reached between them, pressing his thumb against her clit and circling it in time with his thrusts.
Anjali screamed.
Her second orgasm was even more intense than the first—a full-body convulsion that caused her to clamp down around him. Her inner walls pulsed in rhythmic waves. She sobbed his name, her vision going white and her entire existence narrowing to the point where their bodies joined.
The feeling of her coming undone around him pushed Suyash over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside her and released, spilling in hot, pulsing surges.
They collapsed together, breathing raggedly and hearts pounding. He stayed inside her, neither of them willing to break the connection.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The birds had fallen silent, as if respecting the sacredness of what had just happened. The flowering vines swayed gently in the breeze.
Anjali's fingers traced lazy patterns on his back. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything. For being my first. For being my now."
He lifted his head to look at her. Her face was peaceful, her eyes soft, and her lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. The tears had dried, leaving faint tracks on her cheeks.
"You're beautiful," he said.
She laughed—a quiet, watery sound. "I'm a mess.
"My favorite mess."
Finally, he withdrew and rolled to his side, pulling her against him. She curled up against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. Their bodies fit together as if they were made for each other.
"I meant what I said," she murmured. "I love you. I don't expect you to say it back. I know what we are. I know what this is. But I needed you to know."
His hand stroked down her spine. "I know. I care about you, Anjali. More than I can put into words."
It wasn't "I love you." But it was honest. For Anjali, lying in his arms on an island that felt like a dream, it was enough.
They lay together as the sun climbed higher and the grove warmed around them. Eventually, the sounds of the other women drifted through the jungle—laughter, splashing, and Komal shouting something about finding more crabs.
"We should go back," Anjali said reluctantly.
"In a minute." He kissed her forehead. "Let's stay here just a little longer."
She smiled and pressed closer, savoring the stolen moment.
Whatever happened next—rescue, return, or the complications of their real lives—she would always have this moment in the grove. The grove. The moss. She had the man who had put her back together and shown her what it meant to be truly seen.
The island had given her that.
And she would never forget it.
—