Adultery My wife through the lens of CCTV

[tharkibudda]

So I had this discussion with another author in literotica and when she gave this idea, I immediately laughed off telling it so similar to another story. But now I realise that most of these loving wives stories fall under very few specific templates and people aren't interested in other genres as much as I can see with my “The Village is No Place for Girls” story. 



So here is my story written in First Person POV

Please note: This story takes place before the Jio Revolution in order to avoid several plotholes. That doesnt mean it will be perfect

[tharkibudda]

Chapter one - Angel Into my life

I'm Manav. I'm 27 years old and work as an accountant for a small company. I grew up in a poor family and somewhat ok in studies. I couldnt afford to go to engineering, so opted for Commerce. I had completed M.Com and moved to Mumbai for work. It's a grind, but it pays the bills. Most of my days are spent in a cubicle, numbers and spreadsheets my only companions. My apartment is a tiny chawl in the heart of the Ghatkopar with 3 roommates but it's home. It's a place to eat, sleep, and occasionally, to escape from the chaos outside.


Soon, my parents started looking for bride. But i was rejected because i was only 5'6", poor, not English medium and not working as an engineer or doctor. It was a constant humiliation for me, especially when my friends started getting married to their beautiful, well-educated brides. I felt like a failure in their eyes.

Then, the miracle happened. They showed me a girl from a very rural part of our area. Her name was Dhristi.  Her parents were poor, and she didn't even have the luxury of completing her education beyond the 12th standard. They couldn't marry her off because of their dire financial situation.

When I saw her, I couldn't believe my eyes. She was only 5'3", petite, and had a raw, untouched beauty that no glammed-up South Bombay girl could ever compete with. Her skin glowed with the warmth of the Indian sun, and her eyes, though cast downward in shyness, sparkled like the stars in a clear night sky. She didn't have the polished English or the fancy degrees, but she had something far more valuable: an innocence and purity that was becoming increasingly rare in this hookup culture world.

The wedding was a simple affair, held in a small village hall. The smell of marigold garlands and sandalwood filled the air as we exchanged our vows. Her family couldn't afford much, so my parents had stepped in to help with the expenses. The jealousy from my relatives was palpable, like a thick fog hanging over the room. They whispered about her background, her education, and her height, but she remained unfazed, a silent storm in the calm demeanor. I felt a strange mix of pride and inadequacy as I held her hand. Pride for marrying someone so beautiful, yet inadequate because I knew I couldn't give her the life she deserved.

That night, in our small, dimly lit room, the reality of our union set in. She was shy, her eyes avoiding mine, as she sat on the bed in her simple white sari, looking like a lost doe in the city lights. I knew I had to be patient, that she was a delicate bloom in a harsh world. I approached her gently, unsure of how to explain the sex she'd been shielded from. Her hands trembled as I touched her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin and the rapid beat of her heart. Her eyes searched mine for reassurance, and I whispered sweet nothings in her ear, hoping to ease her fears.

Leaning in, I brushed my lips against hers, feeling the softness of her mouth. At first, she tensed up, unsure of how to respond. But as my kiss grew more urgent, she began to melt into me. She parted her lips slightly, allowing me to deepen the kiss, and I could taste the sweetness of her innocence. Her breath was shallow, her pulse racing as she tentatively placed her hands on my chest. I knew she was feeling the same passion that was coursing through my veins, even if she didn't know what to do with it.

Her shyness was palpable as I began to unravel the intricate knots of her sari. Each layer revealed more of her smooth, untouched skin, and she shivered beneath my touch. Her eyes darted around the room, seeking escape or perhaps guidance, but I kept my gaze fixed on hers, reassuring her with every tender stroke. Finally, the last of the fabric fell away, leaving her in a simple cotton petticoat and blouse. The lamp danced across her curves, highlighting the contours of her body that had been hidden beneath layers of modesty.

My hands hovered over her blouse strings, unsure of whether to proceed. But she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a silent plea, and I knew she trusted me. With trembling fingers, I began to untie the knot. She took in a sharp breath as the material loosened, and I could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. When the last thread of fabric gave way, I paused, waiting for a sign from her. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I gently slid the blouse from her shoulders.

The sight of her bare breasts was nothing short of breathtaking. They were full and firm, the perfect handful, with pinkish brown areolas and erect nipples that begged to be kissed. I marveled at how they contrasted with her small waist, making her seem even more delicate. I leaned in closer, brushing my lips against the soft mounds, feeling her body tense and then relax into me. She whimpered as I took a nipple into my mouth, teasing it gently with my tongue. The sound was like music to my ears, and I felt my desire for her growing with each passing moment.

As I continued to play with her breasts, she began to squirm under my touch, her breathing growing ragged. She was like a bud opening to the first kiss of spring rain. I watched her face, her eyes closed in pleasure, and knew I had to explore further. With trembling hands, I slid my fingers down to the waist of her petticoat, feeling the warmth emanating from her core. She gasped when I touched the strings of her panty, her body jolting with anticipation.

Her moans grew louder as I gently tugged at the fabric, revealing the untouched landscape between her thighs. The sight of her thick, untrimmed bush was surprising yet strangely erotic. It was a stark contrast to the hairless women I'd seen in the porn videos that had been my only sexual education. Her innocence was as tangible as the fabric of her undergarments, and it fueled my desire to claim her, to be the one to introduce her to the pleasures of the flesh.

She was a vision of raw beauty, her curves and lines untouched by the modern world's obsession with perfection. Her plump thighs were scattered with goosebumps, and I felt a primal urge to explore every inch of her. I traced the line of her thighs with my fingers, feeling her quiver as I approached the juncture of her legs. When I reached the soft mound of her pubic hair, I paused, looking up to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were still closed, but she bit her lower lip, a silent invitation for me to continue.

She was wet, her folds glistening with arousal, and I felt a surge of pride that she was responding to my touch. Her breath hitched as the fabric slid down, exposing her to the cool air of the room. I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of her, the pinkness of her lips, the way they swelled and beckoned to me.

Her eyes remained closed as I stepped out of my own clothes, revealing my 4.5 inch cock, standing at attention. It wasn't the largest, but it was mine, and in that moment, it was all that mattered. I knew she had never seen one before, never felt one against her skin. The anticipation was thick between us, a palpable force that seemed to hold its breath.

I laid beside her, my hand caressing her stomach, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath my touch. I whispered to her, telling her how much I wanted her, how much I cared for her, hoping to ease the fear that was surely coiled in her belly. Slowly, with a gentle firmness, I parted her legs, feeling the softness of her thighs against mine.

Her eyes snapped open as the tip of my cock brushed against her entrance, the reality of what was about to happen crashing over her like a wave. "Nahi, nahi," she gasped, her voice tight with pain as I began to push inside her. Her nails dug into my skin, her body taut as a bowstring. I paused, my heart aching at the sight of her distress, but her eyes, though wet with fear, held a spark of something else. A silent plea for me to continue.

With a deep, shaky breath, I began to move again, inch by agonizing inch, feeling her tightness envelop me. She was so tight, so warm, like nothing I had ever felt before. Her walls clenched around me, a testament to her purity. I could feel her fighting the pain, her body adjusting to the new sensation of being filled.

Her screams grew louder, a symphony of pain and pleasure that seemed to echo through the walls of the small room. Her nails dug deeper into my flesh, leaving red marks that stood out starkly against the pale canvas of my skin. Each thrust was met with a cry that grew more and more desperate, a mix of agony and ecstasy that I found myself craving. I had to remind myself to be gentle, to go slow, to not lose myself in the heat of the moment.

But as the initial pain gave way to something else, something deeper, something primal, I felt her body begin to respond. Her hips began to move with mine, almost imperceptibly at first, but gradually with more urgency. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer, her walls clenching around my cock in a rhythmic dance that was as old as time itself.

I knew I was close, the tension in my body building like a crescendo. But before I could go further, I felt something rise in me, a force that I couldn't control. My eyes widened with the realization that I was about to cum. I wanted to slow down, to savor this moment, but my body had other plans. With a roar that was torn from the very core of my being, I released my seed inside her, filling her with the essence of my passion.

As I rolled off her, she breathed a sigh of relief. The pain of her stretched vagina finally relaxed, and I felt a twinge of guilt for not lasting longer. But her eyes, still filled with a mix of fear and wonder, offered me something more profound than any words could express. It was a silent acknowledgment that she had felt something she had never felt before. She was still a virgin in so many ways, but now she knew the raw power of intimacy, of giving herself to another.

Her skin was slick with sweat, the beads glistening in the dim lamplight. The softness of her body was a stark contrast to the harshness of the world outside. She lay there, a vision of innocence lost and found, her chest rising and falling with each breath. I reached out to brush the damp hair from her forehead, and she leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed again.

For a moment, we lay in silence, our hearts hammering against each other like two wild creatures trapped in a cage. Then she spoke, her voice small and unsure. "Did I do okay?" she whispered, her cheeks flushing a deep red. The question was loaded with insecurity, and I felt a surge of protectiveness. I gathered her into my arms, cradling her against my chest.

"You did more than okay," I murmured, stroking her hair. "You were perfect."

We lay there, our bodies tangled together, the scent of our love-making hanging in the air. The room grew quiet, the only sounds the distant chorus of crickets outside and the steady rhythm of our breathing. Gradually, our hearts slowed, and our bodies cooled. Dhristi's trembles subsided, and she melted into me, her head resting on my chest. Her breathing grew even, and soon she was asleep, her soft snores a gentle melody in the stillness of the night.

The next day, we moved to Mumbai, where I had managed to rent a 1BHK apartment in a slightly better area than my previous abode. The room was small, but it was ours, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of relatives and neighbors. The walls were a fresh coat of white, a stark contrast to the dingy gray of the chawl, and a single window allowed in a beam of sunlight that danced across the floor. It wasn't much, but it was a step up from what we had.

[tharkibudda]

I know what everyone are thinking, "Hey I know where this is going?"


Dont worry,its going in the same direction as literally every other story in Indian erotica site. but turns out thats the only thing people like,whether she is ultra educated SoBo girl or an uneducated village girl. Everyone wants a cheating wife story

I wasnt even sure if I had to introduce sex so early and not even mention the first night because the basic story has some parts before it comes to that.  Please be a bit patient as I want some generic plot to evolve before we once again bring back the main characters beyond these two people.

Please let me know your feedback and suggestions. 

[Projectmp]

Interesting plot

[tomdickharry2024]

Nice start sir.. please do continue... cheating wife stories do have a unique kink  for me personally. Even though it's an often used concept for sex stories, the uniqueness of the main characters, how well they are defined and the situations that they cheat/escape- described in the stories is what sets it apart from the rest. Like this story you've started, a simpleton husband and new wife who is moving to the big city.. already intriguing and looking forward to more!!!

[Baba_Ramdev]

Nice Start

[tweeny_fory]

This story has a lovely start bro. Cheating wife stories offer a particular forbidden kink, and this setup is promising. The writing style is perfect – not bogged down in excessive detail, and not so brief. It's crisp and concise, hitting all the right notes.

I'm eagerly waiting the next part to see where this goes. The wife's character is particularly compelling. Will she turn out to be genuinely naive, or is she a master of deception, expertly playing a role? As you mentioned, focusing on developing the plot further will make it even more interesting. Wanted to understand how the relationships evolve and the consequences that arise from her actions (or perceived actions). Perhaps explore the motivations of the other characters involved and delve deeper into the reasons behind their choices.

All the best bro

[tharkibudda]

Thank you Tom,Baba and Tweeny for your comments

Readers,Please forgive me if I cant give regular updates in case my life becomes busier or I have writer's block. I hope this one doesn't get the same lack of enthusiasm as my "Village not for girls"
 
Next few chapters will be dedicated to building the plot, Hope the readers show some patience

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 2 - Mumbai Meri Jaan, but not for her

The first few weeks were a whirlwind of excitement. I felt like a new man, my steps lighter as I boarded the crowded local train each morning, the weight of my new responsibilities and the joy of my marriage lifting me up. The commute, which had once felt like a never-ending slog through the bowels of the city, was now filled with thoughts of Dhristi waiting for me at the end of the day. Her sweet smile, the way her eyes lit up when she saw me, made the cramped journey seem like a minor inconvenience.


In our new home, we discovered each other's quirks and habits. She liked to wake up early, making me tea . Her voice was like a melody as she hummed folk songs  and I found myself smiling even before I'd had my first sip. I taught her about the fast-paced life of Mumbai, the art of navigating the crowded streets, and the importance of a good bargain at the local bazaar. She was a quick learner, her curiosity and willingness to adapt a balm to my soul.

Every evening, as the city lights began to flicker on, she would stand by the window, her eyes searching the horizon for my return. I could see the exhaustion etched on her face, the toll of the day's work evident in her weary smile. But the moment she heard the jangle of my keys, she would straighten up, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She would give a warm embrace after the cold shoulder of the city's concrete jungle.

The aroma of her handcooked meals filled the apartment, a stark contrast to the unhealthy meals that had been my staple for so long. She had learned to cook from her mother, who had instilled in her the belief that food was love made edible. And oh, how I feasted on that love.

But it was the nights that truly became our sanctuary. After the day's bustle had quieted and the city outside had gone to sleep, we would come together in the sanctity of our tiny bedroom. Her shyness remained a part of her, a delicate veil that she'd let slip away bit by bit each time we made love. We'd start with soft whispers and gentle caresses, my hands tracing the curves of her body that she still shielded from my eyes with a modesty that seemed almost out of place in the heat of passion.

Our lovemaking grew more intense with each passing day, our bodies learning the intricate dance that could only exist between us. I'd kiss her neck, her earlobes, her breasts, and she'd arch her back, her gasps of pleasure a sweet symphony in the silence. I'd push into her, feeling the tightness that never fully disappeared, a testament to her untouched past. Our rhythm grew more urgent, the slap of our skin against each other echoing in the stillness of the room. And when I could hold back no longer, I'd release with a roar, feeling her pussy clench around me, her nails digging into my back as she found her own release.

The weekends became our escape, our time to revel in each other without the constraints of work or the prying eyes of society. Sometimes, we'd make love two times in a single night.  My stamina had improved; I could now last between two to five minutes, a stark improvement from the first night.

We explored the concrete jungle of Mumbai, her eyes wide with wonder at the grandeur of the city. Every weekend, I'd take her to a new place: the Gateway of India, the bustling streets of Colaba, the  Marine Drive. She was like a child in a candy store, her eyes lighting up at every new sight, We'd walk hand in hand, lost in the sea of people, her excitement a stark contrast to the jaded expressions of the city dwellers.

But what truly surprised her was the fashion of the city's women. She'd stare, unabashed, at the girls in short skirts and deep necklines, their bodies on display for the world to see. She'd whisper to me, "These are the things they only show in the movies, right?" I'd chuckle, squeezing her hand, "It's the way of the city, Dhristi."

One evening, as we sat in the local park watching the sunset, a couple next to us engaged in a passionate kissing. Dhristi's eyes went wide as she took in the sight, her cheeks flaming red. She whispered, "Back home, if a girl did that, she'd be shunned!" Her voice was tinged with both shock and fascination.

"Things are different here," I said, trying to sound casual. "But I prefer our love, private and pure."

Dhristi nodded, her eyes still on the couple. I could see the curiosity in them, a hint of longing for the freedom she hadn't yet experienced. "But why do they do it?" she asked. "Isn't it only for marriage?"

I sighed, not quite ready to dive into the complexities of modern relationships. "Some do it for love, some for fun," I said, hoping that was enough.

Her gaze remained on the couple, a mix of anger and confusion playing on her features. "But it's wrong, isn't it?" she finally asked, turning to me.

I took a deep breath, understanding the cultural gap she was trying to bridge. "It's not about right or wrong, Dhristi," I said, choosing my words carefully. "It's about what two people agree upon, what makes them happy. "

But she wasn't convinced. "But what if they get caught? What if someone sees them?" she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of her village's judgment.

"In the city, people have their own lives to live," I replied, trying to soothe her worries. "They don't care as much about what others do."

But the fury in her voice was unmistakable. "City girls have no shame," she spat, her eyes still on the couple. "They throw their bodies around like it means nothing."

She added "And dont ever try to kiss me in public," her voice laced with anger. "My love is not for everyone's eyes. It's only for you, in the sanctity of our bedroom." Her words were a reminder of the contrast between her village upbringing and the liberal culture of Mumbai.

The weeks passed, and Dhristi began to adapt to the chaotic rhythm of the city, but her disgust for the city's morals remained unshaken. She'd often compare the immodest behavior of city women to the virtuousness of village girls, leaving me feeling torn between defending the place I called home and supporting her views.

One day, as we walked through the crowded market, a group of men leered at her, making lewd comments. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, and she clung to my arm, her eyes downcast. I felt a surge of anger, but she squeezed my hand, reminding me of her strength. "These men have no respect for a married woman," she whispered, her voice filled with disdain. "Back home, they'd never dare."

Her words stung, a stark reminder of the city's harshness. I realized that while I had been enamored with the freedom and glamour of Mumbai, she saw only the ugliness that lurked beneath the surface. Her purity and innocence were not a hindrance, but a bastion of strength. In her own way, she was a rebel, holding onto her values in a world that seemed determined to strip them away.

As the days turned into weeks, I noticed a shift in her. The brightness in her eyes dimmed, and the spring in her step grew heavier. She spoke less of her village and more of her longing for the simplicity of life there. The noises of the city, which had once fascinated her, now seemed to grate on her nerves. The endless sea of people, the honking of cars, and the blaring of horns became a cacophony she longed to escape.

A lot of village girls would have used this opportunity to escape from the traditions of their small-town lives, eagerly embracing the anonymity and freedom that Mumbai offered. They'd shed their conservative attire for sleek outfits that whispered of rebellion with every step, their eyes hungry for the sights and sounds of the city's decadence. But not Dhristi. Instead of letting the city's allure sweep her away, she felt nauseated by it all. The glitz and glamour held no appeal when juxtaposed with the wholesome simplicity she'd left behind.

My friends and relatives had warned me not to bring a village girl to the city. They spoke of how lonely housewives were easy prey for the casanovas that roamed the streets, looking for a secret affair. They painted a picture of a life where temptation lurked around every corner, where marital vows were as flimsy as a paper boat in a monsoon storm. I'd laughed it off, confident in Dhristi's innocence and purity.

But as the days passed, I began to see their concerns reflected in the shadows of doubt that danced in her eyes. She was a fish out of water, her simplicity a stark contrast to the complex tapestry of Mumbai. The long hours of solitude weighed on her, turning her into a recluse within the four walls of our apartment. Her days were spent cooking and cleaning, her nights filled with longing for the quiet whispers of her village's nightfall.

I tried to distract her with trips to the mall, to the cinemas that played the latest Bollywood blockbusters, but she remained unmoved, her gaze drifting to the horizon, searching for something she could never find here. The vibrant colors of the city only served to highlight the dullness in her soul.

One evening, as I lay in bed with her, her eyes wide open in the dark, I made a decision. "Dhristi," I whispered, "I think we should move to a smaller town. Maybe somewhere quieter, with a slower lifestyle and we can breathe."

Her eyes searched my face in the moonlight, a spark of hope igniting in their depths. "Do you think we can?" she asked, her voice small.

"We have to," I assured her, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. "This isn't living. We're meant for more."

The next day, I began the quest for our escape. I approached my colleagues and friends with a newfound urgency, inquiring about opportunities in smaller towns. The city's hustle and bustle had always been my muse, but now it felt like a cage that stifled the very essence of Dhristi's being.

Days turned into weeks, and the job search grew more intense. Finally, a glimmer of hope appeared in the form of a job offer from a small tier-3 town nestled in the heart of North India. The company was a manufacturer of corrugated tiles, a humble yet stable trade. The salary was a tad lower than what I was making in Mumbai, but I realized the cost of living would be significantly less. The prospect of a less frugal life, one that allowed us to breathe and enjoy each other's company without the suffocating embrace of the city's chaos, was intoxicating.

I discussed the offer with Dhristi, her eyes lighting up at the mention of a town that reminded her of her own. The thought of leaving the claustrophobic confines of Mumbai brought a smile to her lips, a smile that had been missing for far too long. The quietude of a small town, the simplicity of life, and the absence of lecherous eyes—it was a promise of a sanctuary she hadn't dared to dream of.

[tweeny_fory]

Good start to the story, bro! The initial setup is really engaging.

The way the story began, with Manav's friends' comments, had me thinking the same thing – that Drishti would be immediately swept off her feet by the charm and energy of the Mumbai wala. It's interesting, then, to see this story of potential seduction and treachery playing out not in the glitz of a big city, but rather in a tier 3 city with its own unique character and dynamics. This setting adds an unexpected layer of complexity.

So, the question now is: How will the change of scenery affect Drishti's perceptions and vulnerabilities? What kind of deceptive game is being played in this new environment? We are eagerly waiting to know what happens next! Keep it coming

[Projectmp]

Amazing build up . Excited for next week

[Muralimm]

Quite interesting story and the narration is really good crisps

[tharkibudda]

Good start to the story, bro! The initial setup is really engaging.

The way the story began, with Manav's friends' comments, had me thinking the same thing – that Drishti would be immediately swept off her feet by the charm and energy of the Mumbai wala. It's interesting, then, to see this story of potential seduction and treachery playing out not in the glitz of a big city, but rather in a tier 3 city with its own unique character and dynamics. This setting adds an unexpected layer of complexity.

So, the question now is: How will the change of scenery affect Drishti's perceptions and vulnerabilities? What kind of deceptive game is being played in this new environment? We are eagerly waiting to know what happens next! Keep it coming

Thanks Tweeny

The Mumbai stay was an important part of the character development of Dhristi because she came from a backward village and then seeing the amount of skin show and PDA in Mumbai made her get acclimatize to the outside world. She thought only bollywood actresses dressed in small cleavage bearing clothes and no woman in real life does.

The pit stop of Mumbai provides two possibilities - Dhristi who had a very black and white view of sex and marriage got introduced to another world where it was common. Just like passive smoking, these thoughts even though she didnt like slowly entered her conscience.

Or the second option is that since this is narrated by Manav's view, he was blindsided by Dhristi who constantly critiqued the culture of Mumbai but secretly liked it. Since he went to office and morning and returned late evening, he was oblivious what was happening during his absence in a city with noone who knows them.

Whatever it is, the real truth is revealed through CCTV which is where the story heads

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 3 - New Beginnings

Two trains and a bus ride later, we found ourselves in the dusty embrace of Jaunpur. The town was smaller than I had imagined, with narrow streets lined with shops that seemed to have been there for generations. The air was cleaner, the noise a distant memory, and for the first time in months, I felt my lungs expand with something other than the pollution of the city.


The office of Chand Tiles was a modest building, a stark contrast to the gleaming towers of Mumbai. The receptionist, a middle-aged lady with a warm smile, directed me to Lakhan Chand's office. He was a man of surprising poise, his late-30s features etched with a maturity that seemed beyond his years. His English was peppered with an accent that hinted at a foreign education.

As I sat across from him, the air in the room seemed to shift, carrying with it the scent of old money and new ambition. His eyes, sharp and assessing, took in my city attire, the crispness of my shirt and the shine of my shoes. He leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and spoke with an ease that belied his position.

"Manav," he began, his voice a rich baritone that filled the room, "I must say, your qualifications are quite impressive. And your dedication to your work, commendable."

"Thank you, Sir," I said, trying to keep the excitement from my voice.

Lakhan Chand's eyes twinkled, as if he enjoyed watching the dance of ambition in my eyes. "It's not every day we get an M.Com graduate from Mumbai to apply for a position here," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But I believe that your experience and my company's growth prospects will be a perfect match."

The interview was over before I knew it, and Lakhan Chand leaned forward, extending his hand. "Welcome aboard, Manav," he said, his grip firm and reassuring. "I've seen potential in many young men, but something tells me you're going to go far with us."

My heart raced as I took the appointment letter from him, feeling the weight of the decision in my hands. The words "Immediately Effective" stared back at me, a stark reminder of the life-altering choice I had just made. This was it—our ticket out of Mumbai, our path to a simpler life with Dhristi.

Back in Mumbai, I shared the news with her, her eyes sparkling with joy. We decided she would stay with her parents for a while until I had set up a suitable house for us. I packed her off to her mother's home.

The first few days in Jaunpur were a blur of meetings and paperwork, but I managed to squeeze in some time to look for a place to live. I stayed in a small, clean lodge .

The broker, a squat man with a greasy smile and a penchant for chewing paan, took me through a whirlwind tour of the town's housing options. The first few places were small and dingy.

"No, no," I said, shaking my head. "Dhristi deserves better. Show me something bigger."

The broker looked at me, surprise etched on his face. "But, Sahib," he protested, "these are the best options within your budget."

I stood firm. "I don't want the best of what's available," I said, my voice filled with a determination that had been dormant for too long. "I want the best that this town can offer."

The broker's smile faltered for a moment, his paan-stained teeth bared in a look of disbelief. Then, with a shrug, he led me to a more upscale part of town. The houses grew larger and the roads were cleaner. It was a stark contrast to the claustrophobic chawl we'd left behind in Mumbai.

But as we stopped in front of a 3bhk bungalow surrounded by a lush garden, the price tag slapped me in the face like a wet fish. I blinked, staring at the figure he rattled off in Hindi, hoping I'd misunderstood. The house was beautiful, no doubt, but the rent was more than I'd ever imagined spending on a place to live.

"It's too much," I said, my voice tight with disbelief.

The broker looked at me, his expression a mix of greed and smugness. "Sahib," he said, his words heavy with the sweetness of a sales pitch, "this is the best that Jaunpur has to offer. The neighborhood is safe, and the house is fit for a king."

I swallowed hard, the reality of small-town prices hitting me like a ton of bricks. The cost of the bungalow was steep, even for a man with a newfound sense of purpose. I thought of Dhristi's smile, the way she'd looked at me with hope in her eyes when I spoke of our new life. I couldn't bear the thought of her living in a cramped, dingy place, not when she deserved so much more.

"I understand," I said, my voice firm. "But I need something that won't break the bank. Something comfortable, but affordable."

The broker's smile didn't waver. He nodded, his eyes gleaming as if he had an ace up his sleeve. "Sahib, I may have just the place for you," he said, and I felt a glimmer of hope.

He led me to the next street, where a house stood tall behind a six-foot wall, its gate painted a cheerful blue that spoke of better days. The garden was small but well-maintained.

The broker's eyes gleamed as we approached. "Sahib," he said, "this is the house you've been looking for." He unlocked the gate with a flourish, revealing a courtyard filled with potted plants and a single neem tree that whispered its welcoming shade. The house was a 3BHK with nice modern fittings.

"But what's the catch?" I blurted out, unable to believe my luck. The house was well within my budget, and yet it had a charm that spoke of a life we could build together, a life that didn't feel cramped or compromised.

The broker's smile grew wider, revealing the darker truth beneath his polished veneer. "The house is caught in a legal tussle," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The owner, he's in a nasty divorce. The wife, she left him, took everything but the house. Court's sealed it until they decide who gets what."

My heart sank, but the allure of the place was too strong to resist. "What does that mean for us?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

The broker's smile grew more smug as he leaned closer. "It means, Sahib," he said, his words oily, "that for a small additional 'monthly fee,' we can make sure that the local authorities look the other way. The house will be all yours."

I stared at him, the weight of his proposition settling in my gut like a stone. The thought of living in a house with such a shadow over it was unsettling, but the desperation in Dhristi's eyes, her need for a clean break from the suffocating chaos of Mumbai, echoed in my mind. I knew she'd love this place, the quietude and the touch of nature soothing her soul. I took a deep breath, weighing the risks and the rewards.

"How small is this... additional fee?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

The broker's eyes narrowed, the gleam in them sharper than the blade of a knife. "ten percent, Sahib," he replied, his voice oily. "A small price to pay for a place like this."

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, but I couldn't deny the pull of the house. "Okay," I said, swallowing hard. "But I want to see the interior before I commit."

The broker's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming as he fished out a set of keys from his pocket. "Of course, Sahib," he said, jingling them like a street magician about to reveal his grand illusion. He unlocked the door with a dramatic flourish, and I stepped into a world that was a stark contrast to the one I'd known.

The living room was indeed vast, with high ceilings that made me feel like I could breathe for the first time in months. The floor was a gleaming expanse of marble,There were two plush couches  a dining table that could host a small feast and a kitchen with a countertop. The flat screen TV was a silent sentinel in the corner, a beacon of modernity in a town that still clung to its old-world charm.

"And these?" I asked, pointing to the air conditioners, a fridge, and a washing machine that stood out like trophies .

The broker's smile grew even more smug. "Ah, yes," he said, his eyes glinting. "Those are part of the amenities. The previous tenants couldn't take them when they left, so they're included in the rent."

As he spoke, he led me through the house, pointing out the two bedrooms that remained locked. "The owner's personal belongings," he explained with a shrug, as if that were the most natural thing in the world. "But fear not, the master bedroom is more than enough for you and your  wife."

He threw open the door to the master suite, and I couldn't help but gape at the grandeur before me. The bed was indeed a king-sized bed and flanked by nightstands . The attached bathroom gleamed with chrome fixtures and a shower large enough for two.

But the suspicion lingered. "If it's that easy to bribe the officials," I said, my voice echoing in the emptiness of the room, "why hasn't anyone else rented this place?"

The broker's smile didn't falter. "Well, sir, since the divorce is well known in this town, people consider this house as unlucky, a bad omen. They say it's cursed, that it brings misfortune to whoever lives here." His eyes darted around the room, as if expecting the walls to start whispering dark secrets.

I couldn't ignore the unease his words stirred in me, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the warmth and comfort the house promised Dhristi. "We're not superstitious," I said firmly, hoping my words would drown the whispers of doubt in my mind. "We'll take it."

The broker's smile grew wider, a shark scenting blood in the water. He took the advance and promised to handle the paperwork. I left the house feeling both elated and queasy.

In the following days, I worked tirelessly to make the house a home. I set up the gas connection, had the electricity transferred.

When I finally brought Dhristi to see our new place, her eyes widened with astonishment. She had never seen a house like this, not even in her wildest dreams. I watched her take in every detail, her eyes dancing with excitement as she touched the marble floors and the cold metal of the kitchen appliances.

"This is... amazing," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "How did we get so lucky?"

I wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. "We make our own luck," I said, hoping the lie didn't show in my eyes. "Let's make this our home, Dhristi."

The house was indeed a haven for us, a place where we could breathe and grow. But it was also a prison, a testament to someone else's shattered dreams. The walls seemed to hold their breath, as if waiting for the next tragedy to unfold.

[tharkibudda]

Hey guys, I will have a small break. And yes I'm taking just when things are shaping up...Sorry for that. I will try to answer ur queries and feedback in the meanwhile. Please  let me know your thoughts and comments 

[tomdickharry2024]

Very interesting story already sir.. looking forward for updates. Thank you!

[anushka]

Expecting a very big update in weekend..

[tharkibudda]

Expecting a very big update in weekend..

Sorry Anushka ma'am... Not this weekend....

[tweeny_fory]

You're really keeping us on the edge here, bro! The suspense is killing us! We're wondering if the house itself is going to have a significant role to play in this, or if perhaps some of the locals will be key to the outcome. Maybe it's a combination of both? The biggest question of all still looms large: who is the lucky one you're going to choose?

We're all incredibly eager to know the answer and dying to hear your news. At the same time, we completely understand that you have personal commitments and responsibilities that need your attention. We're not trying to rush you. We'll patiently keep waiting and trust you to share the new updates when you're ready. Thanks for keeping all readers on the edge, even in this suspenseful way!

[mindhunter11]

Good one.. please continue