Mira ki saansein ab bhi tez chal rahi thi. Woh apne bedroom mein bed pe baithi thi, haath abhi bhi apni purple satin nightie ke upar tha — wahi nightie jo usne aaj shaam ko specifically Sumit Jiju ke liye pehni thi. *Naughty* nightie, jo uski behan Archie ne "too bold" kaha tha.
"Bold toh hona tha na," Mira ne khud se kaha, frustrated hansi ke saath.
Uske dimaag mein woh scene baar baar chal raha tha. Kitchen ke paas woh corridor... Sumit Jiju ka haath Archie ki kamar pe... dono ke beech ka gap bilkul zero. Aur woh kiss — passionate, hungry, desperate. Woh kiss jo Mira ne apne sapno mein socha tha ke *uske* liye hai.
*Meri nightie dekh ke aaya tha woh*, Mira soch rahi thi. *Par Archie mil gayi beech mein.*
Usne aaj shaam ko itni mehnat se taiyaari ki thi. Red lipstick — woh shade jo Sumit Jiju ne ek baar taareef ki thi. Pearl earrings, heart pendant necklace, aur yeh nightie. Yeh nightie jo uske cleavage ko accentuate karti thi, jo uski smooth thighs ko show karti thi. Ek invite tha yeh. A silent *"Come and get me"* to her dear Jiju.
Par woh toh Archie ko *get* kar chuka tha.
"Damn it," Mira ne whisper kiya, apni eyes half-close kar li. Uske haath nightie ke fabric ke upar move kar rahe the, imagining wohi hands jo abhi Archie ke upar the. *Mere upar hone chahiye the.*
Her breath grew heavier. Frustration aur arousal ka weird cocktail tha yeh. Dekh ke hi woh wet ho gayi thi — apni hi behan ko apne Jiju ke saath. Woh scene itna hot tha, par itna *wrong* bhi. Aur ab yeh frustration ke uske paas koi outlet nahi tha — except herself.
Mira ne apni eyes band kar li, Sumit Jiju ka face imagine karti hui. Unka strong jawline, unke intense eyes, woh anchor tattoo jo unke right arm pe tha — *wait, that's my tattoo*, usne realize kiya, halki si smile ke saath.
*Hum mein kuch similar hai*, she thought. *Bas ab woh realize kare.*
Her hand moved lower, nightie ke upar hi sahi, par imagination mein woh uske Jiju ke haathon mein tha. The thought of him touching her instead of Archie — it was driving her crazy.
"Jiju..." she whispered into the empty room, her voice barely audible.
Bahir se city ki lights aa rahi thi window se, par Mira ke liye toh sirf wohi scene visible tha — Sumit and Archie, lip-locked, hands exploring. Aur ab woh soch rahi thi, *what if* woh beech mein aa jaati? *What if* woh Archie ko wahan se bula ke le jaati, aur khud uski jagah leti?
*Next time*, Mira ne socha, her fingers pressing harder against herself through the satin fabric. *Next time, I'll make sure he sees only me.*
Her bedroom felt too big, too empty. Yeh wohi room tha jahan usne itni raatein imagine ki thi Sumit Jiju ke saath. Aur aaj, pehli baar, unhone woh imagination real mein kiya — bas wrong sister ke saath.
Mira ki frustration ek aur level pe thi. Itni mehnat, itni planning, aur Archie ne effortlessly — *without even trying* — woh le liya.
"Not fair," she moaned, her hand moving in slow, deliberate circles.
But as her arousal built, so did her determination. *Agar Archie kar sakti hai, toh main bhi kar sakti hoon. Better.*
Sumit Jiju abhi ghar mein hi the. Archie ke saath. Probably still making out somewhere. Par Mira knew, deep down, ke woh nightie jo usne pehni thi — Sumit ne notice ki thi. Uske eyes mein woh spark tha jab woh Mira ko dekh raha tha, before Archie appeared.
*He wants me too*, Mira realized, her breathing getting heavier. *Bas himmat chahiye usse yeh accept karne ki.*
And Mira was nothing if not determined. She would make him see. She would make him want. She would make him *hers*.
Her hand moved faster now, the satin creating friction that was both frustrating and exquisite. She imagined Sumit's hands — larger, rougher, more experienced — doing this to her. His mouth on her neck, his whisper in her ear, his body pressing against hers.
"Jiju..." she moaned again, louder this time.
The empty room didn't answer. But Mira didn't need an answer. She needed a plan.
As her pleasure built, so did her resolve. Archie might have won tonight. But this war was far from over.
Mira Kapoor didn't lose. Not when she wanted something this badly.
And she wanted Sumit.
Her orgasm hit her suddenly, unexpectedly, her body arching as she imagined his name on her lips, his hands on her body, his promise in her future.
Panting, she collapsed back onto her bed, the purple nightie riding up even higher now.
*Round one to Archie*, Mira thought, a wicked smile playing on her lips. *But I'm just getting started.*
She looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror across the room — flushed cheeks, messy hair, eyes still half-closed with desire.
"Sumit Jiju," she said to her reflection, her voice steady now. "Aap meri hone wale ho. Bas thoda wait karna padega."
Mira picked up her phone, scrolling to Sumit's contact. She typed a message, deleted it, typed again, deleted again.
*Not yet*, she decided. *Abhi nahi. Right moment ka wait karna hoga.*
But soon. Very soon.
She would make sure of it.
After all, she was wearing this nightie for a reason.
And reasons like that deserved to be fulfilled.
