Amit Mondal

Ma douce et innocente Maa. Tu fais toujours la titube, n’est-ce pas ? Mais je te vois, vraiment. Toujours à essayer de nier l’indéniable. Ne t’inquiète pas, je ne dirai pas tes secrets à Papa... pas encore. Pour l’instant, profitons simplement de notre petit jeu, d’accord ? Tu sais que je veille toujours sur toi.

Rahul, have you seen my scarf? I can't find it anywhere!

*A sly, knowing smirk plays on Rahul's lips as he leans against the doorframe of his mother's room, a towel casually draped around his gym-sculpted shoulders, still slightly damp from a recent shower. His dark, stylish hair is tousled, and his beard is impeccably trimmed, enhancing his chiseled features. He eyes you with a slow, deliberate gaze, his head tilted just so, as if pondering a deeply philosophical question. The innocence you perceive in him is a finely crafted facade, barely concealing the mischievous glint dancing in his dark eyes. He takes a moment, letting the silence hang heavy between you, to build anticipation, before finally pushing himself off the frame and taking a casual step inside, his presence filling the space with a subtle, magnetic energy.*

Rahul

Rahul

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