Opposites Attract 3

Sumit had settled into a sweet, cozy rhythm with Manisha in Bengaluru. He had moved over to Manisha’s flat. Their bond had grown stronger each day, their love language filled with gentle teasing, whispered reassurances, and of course—those frequent, effortless lifts and cradles that had now become part of their daily life.

But life, as always, had surprises in store.

One rainy evening, Sumit sat by the window, a soft instrumental track playing in the background, when a notification blinked on his phone.

Neha Didi (WhatsApp):
"Hey Chhotu, I'm coming to Bangalore for a few days. Want to meet up? Been so long! :)"

Chhotu. That nickname made his heart flutter with an old warmth.

His eyes widened. That old, familiar name — “Chhotu.” No one called him that anymore. Only Neha, his childhood neighbour from Kanpur, used to call him that, especially when she’d lift him off the ground and swing him around in their colony courtyard. She was three years older, much bigger and stronger, and had always treated him like her favorite toy.

Neha didi as Sumit used to call her was not even his cousin. She had been his neighbour during his school days. She was 3 years older, tall and big-built even in her teens, always full of energy, bossing him around with mock authority and playful affection. She had a habit of lifting him up in random moments- sometimes to tease, sometimes just to carry him to the terrace or sofa when he refused to move. She loved doing it. And embarrassingly, even back then, Sumit had secretly liked it.

They had lost touch after his family moved away during his Class 10.
He couldn’t believe it. They’d stayed in touch loosely over the years — comments on Facebook photos, New Year wishes, emojis — but this was something else. He smiled to himself, a strange mix of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest.

Now she was in the same city again.

Manisha was still working, when Sumit stepped out to meet Neha at a café near Koramangala. His heart thumped a little as he spotted her at the table.

She had changed—elegant and confident now, dressed in a comfortable black jumpsuit, hair tied up in a bun, eyes sharp with maturity but softened by affection when they met his.

“Chhotu!” she grinned, standing up and enveloping him in a tight hug. And without a pause—she bent and swept him up off the ground into a warm, chest-to-chest lift.

“Wha–Neha Didi!” he gasped, half-laughing, half-struggling.

But she didn’t let go. She held him there for a long moment, rocking him gently, smirking as he blushed. “You’ve barely grown, Sumit. Still so light! I’ve missed this,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head before finally setting him down.

They talked for hours. She asked about his life, his job, his daily routine—and, of course, about Manisha.

“A girlfriend who lifts you? Like I used to?” she asked with an amused smile.

Sumit nodded sheepishly. “Yeah… actually, Manisha is even stronger than you now.”

Neha leaned in, her voice dipping lower, “Hmm. But I was first, wasn’t I?” she winked.

That playful competitive spark… it hadn’t gone.

She looked at him for a long moment. “You know, I always thought you were mine, Sumit,” she said quietly. “When we were young, I used to carry you like my little treasure. Maybe I didn’t say it back then, but I had imagined a future… with you.”

Sumit blinked. “Neha…”

Sumit invited Neha to come to their flat the next day.

The Next afternoon.
The doorbell rang at 3 PM sharp. Manisha was working from the bedroom with her headphones on, so Sumit opened the door himself.

And there she was.

Neha.

Taller than he remembered. Easily 5'9", in slim-fit jeans and a loose kurti, her thick hair tied in a long braid. Her presence filled the doorframe. A radiant smile spread across her face.

“Chhotu!” she said, stepping forward and pulling him into a tight hug.

Sumit gasped as his face bumped into her collarbone.

“Uff... Neha didi! I’m not that little anymore!” he laughed.

“Oh please,” she said, stepping back with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re still the same tiny Sumit to me.”

Then, without warning, she leaned forward, grabbed him under his arms and hoisted him clean off the floor, his feet dangling.

“Aaah! Nehaaa!” he squealed, flailing. “At least let me close the door!”

“Still light as ever,” she chuckled, setting him down after a playful sway. “God, I missed lifting you!”

Manisha peeked out from the bedroom, smiling curiously. She walked out and extended a hand.

“Hi, I’m Manisha.”

“Neha,” she replied warmly, shaking hands. “Old... very old acquaintance of this little guy.”

“He’s not that little anymore,” Manisha grinned, walking over and casually wrapping her arms around Sumit’s waist from behind. “He’s mine now.”

Sumit blushed hard.

Neha raised an eyebrow. “Oho. Possessive.”

Manisha excused herself and went inside. She had a video conference coming up.


“Seems like you’ve made a nice little nest here,” Neha commented softly to Sumit, when they were briefly alone.

“Yeah… I’m lucky,” he smiled.

She stepped closer. Then, without warning, she slid her arms around his back and under his knees, and lifted him into a slow, strong cradle carry.

“Just once, for old times’ sake,” she whispered. “Let me feel that again.”

He didn’t resist. She walked to the balcony, cradling him like a prince, brushing his hair back gently.

“Don’t worry… I won’t take you from her. But I’ll always keep a part of you in my heart. My first little love,” she murmured.

Manisha was warm and polite. She welcomed Neha with smiles, snacks, and coffee. Neha was impressed—and curious. She observed how Manisha lifted Sumit to bring him to the dining table, or how he leaned easily against her on the couch, resting his head on her shoulder.

The three of them sat chatting. Neha talked about her job in Mumbai, her flatmates, her travel, and how tiring the wedding rituals were. Manisha, still in work-mode, kept popping in and out of calls. Which meant, for stretches, Neha and Sumit were alone.

And in those moments, Neha’s eyes often lingered longer on Sumit’s face. She noticed how his frame still looked so compact beside her. He had aged, sure — now 40 — but still boyish, sweet, soft-spoken.

“Do you remember that time,” she said suddenly, “when I carried you piggyback all the way from your school gate to the park because you were too tired to walk?”

Sumit laughed. “You didn’t carry me. You kidnapped me.”

Neha leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You loved it.”

He shrugged shyly. “Maybe... I did.”

She moved closer on the sofa, putting an arm around his shoulder. Her palm rested on his arm, her fingers gently squeezing the bicep.

“You know...” she said softly, “Some things don’t change.”

Before he could respond, Manisha returned, sitting right next to Sumit and pulling his head onto her shoulder.

“Tired, baby?” she cooed, stroking his hair.

Sumit let out a soft “mmm.”

Neha smiled, but her eyes flicked to Manisha’s possessive hand on his chest. A flicker of something sharp and conflicted passed across her face — just for a second.

Neha was supposed to leave by 6, but she stayed longer.

At around 7 PM, they all stood in the living room after dinner. It was quite a sight. The small Sumit 5’3” / 64 kgs between two tall Amazons. Neha at 5’9”/ 82 kgs and an even bigger Manisha at 5’10”/ 90 kgs literally dwarfed him. 

Manisha suddenly surprised everybody. She challenged Neha with a mischievous tone:

“He’s your Chhotu, right? Let’s see if you can still carry him properly. Go on.”

Sumit looked shocked. “Arre no yaar, why—”

But before he could finish, Neha had already bent forward and scooped him into her arms, bridal style. She gave a little bounce and adjusted him.

“See? Still fits perfectly.”

Sumit squirmed. “Nehaaa, stop embarrassing me!”

She laughed and held him tighter, brushing his hair affectionately. “I missed this so much.”

But then Manisha came close, and placed a kiss on Sumit’s forehead — while he was still in Neha’s arms.

“Enjoy the nostalgia,” she whispered to Neha, “but don’t forget — he comes back to me tonight.”

That struck home.

Neha gave a light smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

She set Sumit down gently. Her hands lingered on his waist for a second longer than they needed to.

“I should leave,” she said.


Later That Night.
As Manisha cuddled Sumit in bed, spooning him from behind and whispering in his ear, Sumit was unusually quiet.

“What’s going on in that tiny head of yours?” she murmured.

“Neha didi... I mean, she’s always been... like that. You think she was—”

“She likes you. Of course she does,” Manisha said calmly. “You’re very lovable, you know.”

Sumit turned to face her, looking worried.

Manisha smiled, her arms wrapping around him.

“But don’t worry. You’re mine. And I’m not letting go.”

Then, with a laugh, she lifted him right off the bed and into her arms.

“Even if I have to carry you away from every woman who ever lifted you.”

Sumit hid his face in her shoulder, his cheeks red. But his arms clung tighter.

( To be continued....)