🔥 Four in the Frame - A love that refused to stay inside one marriage
What happens when society watches your windows?
Story: S A Spencer
Author of Popular Fictions: The Pink Mutiny, The Black Waters, Dream In Shackles
1
Anita felt
the curtain shift behind her before she heard the footsteps. Dawn hadn’t fully
arrived; the sky was still a soft grey, the kind that made everything look like
a half‑finished sketch. She didn’t turn. She knew the warmth of that breath on
her shoulder.
“Couldn’t
sleep?” Rayan murmured, fingertips brushing the inside of her wrist — a touch
that lingered just long enough to make her pulse misbehave.
Across the
narrow lane, a neighbour’s window creaked open. Someone pretended to shake a
towel, eyes fixed on Anita’s living room.
Rayan’s hand
slipped away, but not before grazing her skin in a way that made her inhale
sharply.
Before she
could answer, the bedroom door opened. Jonas stepped out, shirtless, hair
messy, blinking at the two of them standing too close in the half‑light.
His gaze
flicked from Rayan to Anita.
And the
moment froze.
Then the
knock came.
Three sharp
raps.
“Anita beti!
Open the door! People are saying… things.”
The knock
came again.
And again.
2
Six months
earlier, none of this existed.
Back then,
Anita and Jonas were just another married couple in a small city — predictable,
polite, and quietly bored. Anita taught at a local school. Jonas worked in IT.
Their life was steady, safe, and suffocating.
Then Rayan
arrived.
He was the
new art teacher — younger, warm‑eyed, always in loose shirts and jeans
splattered with paint. Anita noticed him the first day he walked into the
staffroom. She noticed him even more when he laughed at her jokes.
It started
with coffee breaks. Then long chats after school. Then a walk home in the rain.
Then one
evening, when she wore a simple string‑strap top because it was too hot for
anything else, he looked at her like she was something he’d been searching for
without knowing it.
She kissed
him first.
And she
didn’t stop.
For weeks,
they met in quiet corners, empty classrooms, the rooftop of the school. They
weren’t reckless — but they weren’t careful either.
One night,
Jonas came home early.
He found
Anita on the balcony, flushed, hair messy, still wearing the same string top
she’d worn with Rayan. She didn’t have time to hide the truth.
He stared at
her. She stared back.
And instead
of shouting, he said something she never expected.
“Do you love
him?”
Her breath
caught. “I… I don’t know.”
Jonas
stepped closer. “Do you want him?”
She closed
her eyes. “Yes.”
He exhaled
slowly. “Then bring him here.”
She opened
her eyes. “What?”
“If you’re
going to love him,” Jonas said quietly, “I want to understand what that means.
For you. For us.”
She didn’t
know it then, but that night would change everything.
3
The first
time Rayan came over, Anita wore a loose cotton dress that slipped off one
shoulder. Jonas wore a fitted T‑shirt. Rayan arrived nervous, holding a box of
sweets like a peace offering.
They talked
for hours — awkward at first, then strangely natural. Jonas asked questions.
Rayan answered honestly. Anita watched them both, heart pounding.
Later, when
the night grew warm and the windows stayed open, the three of them sat close on
the sofa. Too close. The neighbours across the lane had a feast that night,
watching shadows move behind the curtains.
Jonas was
the one who reached out first — not to Anita, but to Rayan.
And Anita
realised something she hadn’t dared imagine:
Jonas wasn’t
losing her. He was joining her.
The
arrangement wasn’t perfect. There were arguments, insecurities, nights when
Anita cried, nights when Jonas walked out for air, nights when Rayan questioned
everything.
But they
kept choosing each other.
And then
Nita arrived.
4
Nita was a
colleague of Jonas — sharp, confident, always in sleeveless tops and high‑waisted
trousers that made her look like she walked out of a magazine. She came over
one evening to drop off some documents.
She stayed
for tea.
Then dinner.
Then
conversations that stretched past midnight.
Jonas
laughed with her in a way Anita hadn’t seen in years. Rayan noticed it too.
Anita watched the two of them, recognising the same spark she’d once felt.
Weeks
passed. Nita kept visiting. Jonas kept smiling.
One night,
after Nita left, Anita said quietly, “You like her.”
Jonas didn’t
deny it.
Rayan added,
“She likes you too.”
Jonas looked
between them. “Is this… allowed?”
Anita took
his hand. “If it makes you happy.”
Rayan
nodded. “We’re building something new. There’s room.”
It took time
— awkward dinners, hesitant touches, long talks about boundaries and fears. But
slowly, Nita became part of them.
Four adults.
One home. One child. One complicated, beautiful arrangement.
And then the
neighbours found out.
5
The gossip
spread like wildfire. People whispered. Teachers stared. Parents complained.
The school
called Anita in for a “discussion”. Jonas’s office HR sent him a “concerned
email”. Rayan’s contract wasn’t renewed. Nita’s landlord asked her to “vacate
quietly”.
They
couldn’t stay.
But they
couldn’t leave immediately either.
It took
months — selling furniture, saving money, applying for jobs in Mumbai, waiting
for responses, arranging temporary work. They lived in limbo, sharing a home
that felt both safe and threatened.
Finally,
Jonas got an offer. Then Nita. Then Rayan found freelance work. Anita secured a
tutoring position.
They packed
their lives into boxes and left the small city behind.
Mumbai felt
like a new beginning.
For a while.
6
Their new
flat was on the tenth floor. The balcony overlooked a sea of buildings instead
of nosy neighbours. Anita wore shorts and loose tops without worrying. Rayan
walked around shirtless. Nita lounged in tank tops. Jonas cooked breakfast
humming.
For the
first time in months, they breathed freely.
But Mumbai
had its own eyes.
The maid
noticed everything — the shared glances, the overlapping routines, the way
Jonas and Rayan both kissed Anita goodbye, the way Nita leaned into Jonas while
chopping vegetables.
By the third
day, the maid’s smile changed.
By the
fifth, she whispered to the neighbour’s maid.
By the
seventh, the building WhatsApp group lit up.
And on the
eighth morning, the security guard refused to meet Anita’s eyes.
7
The four of
them sat around the dining table, tension thick as humidity.
Jonas
slammed his phone down. “They’re calling us immoral.”
Rayan
muttered, “Of course they are.”
Nita
whispered, “The maid said she won’t come anymore. She said she doesn’t work in
‘that kind of house’.”
Anita felt
her stomach twist. “What kind of house?”
No one
answered.
Her child
wandered in, holding a drawing. “Look, Mum! I drew all of us.”
Four adults.
One child. All holding hands.
Anita’s eyes
stung.
“We can’t
keep running,” Rayan said.
“We need
privacy,” Jonas added.
“Or a place
where we don’t let them matter,” Nita murmured.
Anita looked
at the drawing again.
“We stay
together,” she said. “But we move again. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere private.
Somewhere we choose.”
They all
nodded.
Then the
doorbell rang.
A long,
insistent ring.
None of them
moved.
The bell
rang again.
And again.
Until Anita
finally stood, heart pounding, and reached for the door handle — unaware of
who, or what, waited on the other side.
1
Anita felt
the curtain shift behind her before she heard the footsteps. Dawn hadn’t fully
arrived; the sky was still a soft grey, the kind that made everything look like
a half‑finished sketch. She didn’t turn. She knew the warmth of that breath on
her shoulder.
“Couldn’t
sleep?” Rayan murmured, fingertips brushing the inside of her wrist — a touch
that lingered just long enough to make her pulse misbehave.
Across the
narrow lane, a neighbour’s window creaked open. Someone pretended to shake a
towel, eyes fixed on Anita’s living room.
Rayan’s hand
slipped away, but not before grazing her skin in a way that made her inhale
sharply.
Before she
could answer, the bedroom door opened. Jonas stepped out, shirtless, hair
messy, blinking at the two of them standing too close in the half‑light.
His gaze
flicked from Rayan to Anita.
And the
moment froze.
Then the
knock came.
Three sharp
raps.
“Anita beti!
Open the door! People are saying… things.”
The knock
came again.
And again.
2
Six months
earlier, none of this existed.
Back then,
Anita and Jonas were just another married couple in a small city — predictable,
polite, and quietly bored. Anita taught at a local school. Jonas worked in IT.
Their life was steady, safe, and suffocating.
Then Rayan
arrived.
He was the
new art teacher — younger, warm‑eyed, always in loose shirts and jeans
splattered with paint. Anita noticed him the first day he walked into the
staffroom. She noticed him even more when he laughed at her jokes.
It started
with coffee breaks. Then long chats after school. Then a walk home in the rain.
Then one
evening, when she wore a simple string‑strap top because it was too hot for
anything else, he looked at her like she was something he’d been searching for
without knowing it.
She kissed
him first.
And she
didn’t stop.
For weeks,
they met in quiet corners, empty classrooms, the rooftop of the school. They
weren’t reckless — but they weren’t careful either.
One night,
Jonas came home early.
He found
Anita on the balcony, flushed, hair messy, still wearing the same string top
she’d worn with Rayan. She didn’t have time to hide the truth.
He stared at
her. She stared back.
And instead
of shouting, he said something she never expected.
“Do you love
him?”
Her breath
caught. “I… I don’t know.”
Jonas
stepped closer. “Do you want him?”
She closed
her eyes. “Yes.”
He exhaled
slowly. “Then bring him here.”
She opened
her eyes. “What?”
“If you’re
going to love him,” Jonas said quietly, “I want to understand what that means.
For you. For us.”
She didn’t
know it then, but that night would change everything.
3
The first
time Rayan came over, Anita wore a loose cotton dress that slipped off one
shoulder. Jonas wore a fitted T‑shirt. Rayan arrived nervous, holding a box of
sweets like a peace offering.
They talked
for hours — awkward at first, then strangely natural. Jonas asked questions.
Rayan answered honestly. Anita watched them both, heart pounding.
Later, when
the night grew warm and the windows stayed open, the three of them sat close on
the sofa. Too close. The neighbours across the lane had a feast that night,
watching shadows move behind the curtains.
Jonas was
the one who reached out first — not to Anita, but to Rayan.
And Anita
realised something she hadn’t dared imagine:
Jonas wasn’t
losing her. He was joining her.
The
arrangement wasn’t perfect. There were arguments, insecurities, nights when
Anita cried, nights when Jonas walked out for air, nights when Rayan questioned
everything.
But they
kept choosing each other.
And then
Nita arrived.
4
Nita was a
colleague of Jonas — sharp, confident, always in sleeveless tops and high‑waisted
trousers that made her look like she walked out of a magazine. She came over
one evening to drop off some documents.
She stayed
for tea.
Then dinner.
Then
conversations that stretched past midnight.
Jonas
laughed with her in a way Anita hadn’t seen in years. Rayan noticed it too.
Anita watched the two of them, recognising the same spark she’d once felt.
Weeks
passed. Nita kept visiting. Jonas kept smiling.
One night,
after Nita left, Anita said quietly, “You like her.”
Jonas didn’t
deny it.
Rayan added,
“She likes you too.”
Jonas looked
between them. “Is this… allowed?”
Anita took
his hand. “If it makes you happy.”
Rayan
nodded. “We’re building something new. There’s room.”
It took time
— awkward dinners, hesitant touches, long talks about boundaries and fears. But
slowly, Nita became part of them.
Four adults.
One home. One child. One complicated, beautiful arrangement.
And then the
neighbours found out.
5
The gossip
spread like wildfire. People whispered. Teachers stared. Parents complained.
The school
called Anita in for a “discussion”. Jonas’s office HR sent him a “concerned
email”. Rayan’s contract wasn’t renewed. Nita’s landlord asked her to “vacate
quietly”.
They
couldn’t stay.
But they
couldn’t leave immediately either.
It took
months — selling furniture, saving money, applying for jobs in Mumbai, waiting
for responses, arranging temporary work. They lived in limbo, sharing a home
that felt both safe and threatened.
Finally,
Jonas got an offer. Then Nita. Then Rayan found freelance work. Anita secured a
tutoring position.
They packed
their lives into boxes and left the small city behind.
Mumbai felt
like a new beginning.
For a while.
6
Their new
flat was on the tenth floor. The balcony overlooked a sea of buildings instead
of nosy neighbours. Anita wore shorts and loose tops without worrying. Rayan
walked around shirtless. Nita lounged in tank tops. Jonas cooked breakfast
humming.
For the
first time in months, they breathed freely.
But Mumbai
had its own eyes.
The maid
noticed everything — the shared glances, the overlapping routines, the way
Jonas and Rayan both kissed Anita goodbye, the way Nita leaned into Jonas while
chopping vegetables.
By the third
day, the maid’s smile changed.
By the
fifth, she whispered to the neighbour’s maid.
By the
seventh, the building WhatsApp group lit up.
And on the
eighth morning, the security guard refused to meet Anita’s eyes.
7
The four of
them sat around the dining table, tension thick as humidity.
Jonas
slammed his phone down. “They’re calling us immoral.”
Rayan
muttered, “Of course they are.”
Nita
whispered, “The maid said she won’t come anymore. She said she doesn’t work in
‘that kind of house’.”
Anita felt
her stomach twist. “What kind of house?”
No one
answered.
Her child
wandered in, holding a drawing. “Look, Mum! I drew all of us.”
Four adults.
One child. All holding hands.
Anita’s eyes
stung.
“We can’t
keep running,” Rayan said.
“We need
privacy,” Jonas added.
“Or a place
where we don’t let them matter,” Nita murmured.
Anita looked
at the drawing again.
“We stay
together,” she said. “But we move again. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere private.
Somewhere we choose.”
They all
nodded.
Then the
doorbell rang.
A long,
insistent ring.
None of them
moved.
The bell
rang again.
And again.
Until Anita
finally stood, heart pounding, and reached for the door handle — unaware of
who, or what, waited on the other side.
🔔
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