Lusty Feminist Wife: Mishti ki masti (Scene 6)

[ashuezy2]

Introduction

Shubhankar had been away on a business trip for two long weeks. He had missed his wife, Mishti, more than he could put into words. The video calls just weren't the same. He wanted to be in the same room with her, to hear her laugh, to just be with her. He decided to surprise her by coming home a day early. He quietly unlocked the front door, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation. The house was quiet, bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon sun.

Scene 1: The Surprise

He tiptoed towards the bed room. He was hearing voices, there she was, inside the bedroom where voices were coming from, she was lying on the bed with another man. She looked beautiful, a simple yet elegant silk saree in her favourite shade of blue was lying on the floor. He watched her for a moment, anger on his face. Then, starting walking back. Finding the spot where he could watch again to make sure it was her wife, he confirmed it again and again. His heart starting racing, he could hear his heartbeat going to 120, 140, 160, 180. He was feeling uneasy, breathing loudly.

Mishti looked up, her big, expressive eyes widening in surprise. "Shubhankar?" she whispered, she was getting pounded on bed. Her face lit up with a mix of disbelief and shock. She scrambled up from the bed, covering herself with the saree rustling around her. "You're home!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling slightly. She took a step towards him, her eyes shining, her full lips parting in a shameful smile.

The man, who was on top of her just seconds ago, was now jumping off the bed like he had seen a ghost. He was tall, muscular, maybe a gym trainer, Shubhankar thought, his mind going totally blank. The man was searching for his clothes in panic, grabbing his pants from the chair.
"Stay away from me!" Shubhankar shouted, his voice cracking. He felt like the ground was slipping from under his feet. The room was spinning.
Mishti stopped, clutching the blue saree tight against her chest to hide her body, but her shoulders were bare. That shameful smile faded a little, replaced by a look of worry, or maybe it was just drama. She reached out a hand. "Shona, listen to me... it’s not what you are thinking. Please, calm down."

"Not what I am thinking?" Shubhankar laughed, a dry, painful sound that hurt his throat. "I am seeing it, Mishti! I am seeing everything!"
He looked at the bed. The bedsheet was messed up, pillows thrown everywhere. The smell in the room was heavy, a mix of her expensive perfume and the sweat of this stranger. It was making Shubhankar feel vomit coming up in his throat.
The other man had managed to pull his pants up and was now holding his shirt, looking towards the door, trying to find a way to escape. He didn't look at Shubhankar in the eye.

"Who is he?" Shubhankar asked, his finger pointing at the man, shaking uncontrollably. "Tell me, Mishti! Who is this bastard?"
"He... he is just a friend, Shubhankar. Please, don't make a scene," Mishti said, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if the neighbors would hear. She was crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks, ruining her kajal. "You were gone for so long... I was lonely. It just happened."
"Lonely?" The word hit him like a slap. "I was working! For us! And you are here... doing this?"

The stranger saw his chance. While Shubhankar was looking at Mishti, the man rushed past him, shoving Shubhankar’s shoulder slightly to get to the door. Shubhankar stumbled back, hitting the wall. He wanted to grab the man, to hit him, to break his face, but his body was frozen. He was too weak from the shock. He just watched the man run out of the bedroom, then heard the main door slam shut.
Now it was just silence. Only the sound of the fan rotating above and Shubhankar’s heavy breathing.
Mishti sat down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I made a mistake. Please, Shubhankar. I love you."

Shubhankar looked at her. The woman he loved. The woman he came home early for. She looked so innocent sitting there, but the image of her with that man was burned into his eyes forever. The blue saree on the floor, the sweat on her skin, the way she had looked at him with that smile.
He felt a sharp pain in his chest. Everything is finished, he thought.

"Don't say that word," Shubhankar whispered, his voice cold like ice. "Don't say you love me."
He turned around, unable to look at her anymore. He needed air. He needed to get out of this room, out of this house that suddenly felt like a stranger’s place. He walked out of the bedroom, leaving Mishti crying behind him, his surprise turned into a nightmare he could not wake up from.

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Scene 2: The Escape to Amit’s House

I walked out of the house and ran to the corner of the road, looking up, left, right everywhere, my hand on my head wondering what had happened to my life. The afternoon sun was burning my skin, but I felt cold from inside. The noise of the traffic, the auto-rickshaws honking, everything felt distant, like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life.

I realized I left my luggage in the house. My laptop, my clothes, the gifts I bought for her, everything was back there in that room of betrayal. I didn't knew where to go, what to do, whom to call. I couldn't go back in there. If I saw that man again, or saw her face again, I might do something crazy. I might kill someone or kill myself.

My mind was racing with 10 different thoughts, I need to sit somewhere and think. Why did she do it? Was I not enough? How long has this been going on? The questions were hammering inside my brain.

I walked faster towards my best friend's house. Amit lived just three blocks away. We were college buddies, we were of the same age, talked the same way, we graduated in the same course, worked in same industry but different companies. He was the only one who would understand. He had a wife, Shweta, and a single kid, born a few months back. They were a happy family. Like I thought I was, I told myself bitterly.
I reached his building and ran up the stairs, skipping steps. I rang the bell, I was panting, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from my forehead into my eyes.

The door opened. Shweta Bhabhi stood there. She was wearing a simple house gown, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She looked at my face, at my sweat soaked shirt and wild eyes.

She asked, "Aray, Shubhankar what happened? You look terrible."

I gasped for air, leaning against the doorframe. I said, "Bhabhi, my wife... my wife, she has ruined my happy life."
She looked confused, her eyebrows knitting together. She said, "What? Calm down, sit. Come inside first. I will bring glass of water."
I stumbled inside and collapsed onto their sofa. The living room was full of toys. It looked so peaceful, so normal. It made my heart ache more.

I said, "Where is Amit? I want to talk to him. I need him right now."

She said, "Amit has just gone outside to get some groceries, he will be back in few minutes. But tell me nah, what happened, I am feeling scared? Where is Mishti? Did something happen to her? Is she in hospital?"

She thought Mishti was hurt. She thought some accident happened. I looked up at her, my eyes burning with tears that refused to fall.

I said, "She was having sex with another man, the moment I entered our bedroom, the man was fucking her and I saw it and later she was smiling shamelessly."

Shweta Bhabhi froze. The glass of water in her hand shook, spilling a little on the floor. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out for a second.
"Shubhankar..." she whispered, her voice full of shock. "Are... are you sure? Maybe you misunderstood?"

"Misunderstood?" I laughed loudly, a crazy sound. "Bhabhi, there is nothing to misunderstand when a man is pounding your wife on your own bed! I saw them naked! I saw her saree on the floor! She was enjoying it!"

I put my head in my hands, grabbing my hair tight. The image of the gym guy jumping off my bed was replaying in my mind like a broken video loop.

"Chi... I can't believe this," Shweta Bhabhi said, placing the glass on the table and sitting on the chair opposite me. She looked disgusted and shocked. "Mishti? But she seemed so... devoted. She always talks about you."

"It was all a lie," I said, my voice shaking. "All of it. Two weeks I was gone. Just two weeks! And she couldn't wait. She brought him to my house. To my bed."

I took the glass of water and gulped it down in one go, but my throat was still dry. My hands were trembling so much I almost dropped the empty glass.

"Who was the guy?" Shweta asked softly, leaning forward.
"I don't know," I spat out. "Some tall bastard. Looked like a gym trainer or something. He ran away like a coward when he saw me. And Mishti... she just stood there covering herself, looking at me with those big eyes, saying 'sorry'."

"I am so sorry, Shubhankar bhaiya," Shweta said, her tone changing to sympathy. "I don't know what to say. This is... this is too much."
Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed in the room. The door opened and Amit walked in, holding two heavy bags of vegetables. He was smiling, humming a song.

"Shweta, I got the fresh paneer you wanted," Amit said, kicking the door shut behind him. Then he saw me. He saw me sitting on the sofa, red-faced, sweating, looking like a destroyed man. He saw Shweta looking pale.

"Shubhankar?" Amit dropped the bags on the floor. " Aray, when did you come back? What are you doing here? You look like you saw a ghost."
I looked at my best friend. The only person I could trust. My control broke.

"Amit..." I choked out.

"What happened?" Amit walked quickly to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. He looked at Shweta. "Shweta, what happened to him?"
I grabbed Amit’s hand. "Everything is finished, Amit. Mishti... she cheated on me."

Amit looked at me, then at Shweta, then back at me. "What do you mean cheated? Like... texting someone?"

"No," I said, looking him straight in the eye, the anger rising again. "I caught her in bed with someone else. Just now."

The room went deadly silent. Amit’s grip on my shoulder tightened. The reality of the situation was settling in the room like a heavy fog. I was a man with no home, no wife, and a broken heart, sitting in my friend's living room, while my life had turned into a dirty joke.

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Scene 3: The Call

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. I looked at Amit and I told Amit, exactly what I saw in the room. I didn't leave out any dirty detail. I told him about the sweat, the way her legs were wrapped around that stranger, the sounds of pleasure coming from her throat that used to be only for me. I told him how that gym trainer bastard was using my wife like a cheap doll and how she was letting him do it on our marriage bed.

Amit stood up and started walking around the room, rubbing his forehead in frustration. I looked at him and he said, "You must have recorded something on your phone? Shubhankar, think! You know how the laws are in our country. If she cries domestic violence or says you hit her, you are finished. We need proof."

I looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

I said, "Amit, I am not thinking that far right now. I need to understand first what has happened. I just walked out. I didn't think about cameras or recording. My life is burning and you are talking about security officer?" I paused, looking between Amit and Shweta. "Did you guys notice anything? To me everything was normal. I didn't get a hint, from her expressions, from her talk, from the way she behaved with me. This came out of nowhere. If she was not happy with me she should have talked. We are adults!"

Shweta Bhabhi was sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking terrified. Bhabhi said, "Yes, this is highly unusual, this is not how it should happen. Mishti... she always seemed so devoted. Mishti loves you a lot."
My blood boiled hearing that.

I said, "Bhabhi, don't say her name, I feel disgusted by this name. A woman who loves her husband doesn't open her legs for a stranger the moment he leaves the city."

The room went silent again. Shweta looked down, ashamed for her friend.
Amit stopped pacing. He sat down next to me, putting a hand on my knee. Amit said, "Hey, tell me Shubhankar, we are with you, tell us what you need. We are your family now. Tell us what you want to do, do you want us to talk with her? Did you want to involve her parents? We can call your father-in-law right now."

I imagined the chaos. Her mother crying, my parents having heart attacks, the society talking.
I said, "No not parents, things will go out of hand. Not yet. I can't face them yet."
Bhabhi said, "Which means we should talk with her. We need to hear her side, even if it is lies. We need closure."
Amit nodded firmly. He looked at his wife. "Shweta, call her and tell her to come here, we want to talk. Tell her Shubhankar is here and she needs to come right now if she wants to save any dignity."

Shweta Bhabhi picked up her phone. Her hands were shaking slightly too. She found the number and pressed the call button. She looked at me and put it on speaker.

Tring... Tring...
My heart started hammering against my chest again. I wanted to smash the phone, but I also wanted to hear her voice.
Tring... Tring...
The phone was picked up.
"Hello? Shweta?" Mishti’s voice came through. She was crying. I could hear the heavy, ugly sobbing on the other end. "Shweta, please... is Shubhankar with you? Is he there?"

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. Her voice, which used to sound like music to me, now sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Shweta Bhabhi took a deep breath, making her voice hard and serious, unlike her usual sweet tone. "Yes, Mishti. He is here."
"Oh thank God," Mishti sobbed. "Is he okay? He... he just left. He was so angry. I was so scared he would do something to himself. Please let me talk to him, Shweta. Please give the phone to him."

I signaled 'No' to Shweta with my hand. I couldn't speak. If I opened my mouth, I would only scream abuse.
"He doesn't want to talk to you right now, Mishti," Shweta said coldly. "And frankly, looking at his condition, I don't blame him. You have done something terrible."
"I know... I know I made a mistake," Mishti cried, her voice cracking. "It was just... it was a moment of weakness. I don't know what happened to me. Please, I love him. Tell him I love him."

"Stop it!" Amit shouted from his seat, unable to control himself. "Stop with this 'love' drama, Mishti! We know what you did."
"Amit bhaiya?" Mishti sounded terrified. "Please... you guys have to understand."

"We understand that you cheated on your husband in his own house," Shweta said, cutting her off. "Listen to me clearly, Mishti. If you have any shame left, come to our house. Right now. We are sitting in the hall. Come here and face him."
"I... I can't," Mishti stammered. "I am scared. He was so angry. What if he hits me?"
I looked at Amit. Me? Hit her? She destroys my soul and now she is playing the victim card?

"He is not going to touch you," Shweta said sternly. "Shubhankar is a decent man, unlike the company you have been keeping. Come here alone. Don't bring anyone else. Do you understand?"
There was a pause, just the sound of her sniffling on the line.

"Okay," she whispered. "I am coming. I am coming right now. Please tell him not to leave."

Shweta cut the call and placed the phone on the table face down.
"She is coming," Shweta said softly.
I leaned back on the sofa, closing my eyes. I felt exhausted, drained of all energy. The woman I trusted blindly was coming over to explain why she shattered my world for a few minutes of pleasure.
"Let her come," I said, my voice low and dark. "I want to see what lie she invents now."

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Scene 4: The Ultimatum and The Glimpse


We sat there in a deadly silence for ten minutes until the doorbell rang. Shweta Bhabhi got up to open it. I stayed glued to the sofa, my hands clenched into tight fists, staring at the floor.

Mishti walked in.

My heart stopped for a second, then started beating with pure rage. She was wearing the same blue silk saree. The same saree I saw lying on the floor just an hour ago. She hadn't even changed. And the way she dbangd it... the pallu was pinned low, showing ample cleavage. It was like she wanted to remind me of what I saw, or maybe she was just in too much of a hurry. But looking at her deep neckline, I felt sick.
She walked in with her head down. She sat on the single sofa chair, pulling the saree a little bit, trying to hide her shamelessness. But I could see it in her eyes. She was trying to be a good girl, but her body language was loose. She was still high on the adrenaline of getting fucked by that stranger.

"Start speaking," Amit said, his voice heavy. "And don't lie. Shubhankar saw everything."
Mishti looked at her hands, twisting her rings. "I am not lying, Bhaiya. It just... happened."
"Why, Mishti?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Was I not enough?"
She looked up at me. Her eyes were wet, but then, for a second, that softness vanished. She straightened her back.
"Shubhankar, you are a simple, straightforward man," she said softly. "You are too good and you are gentle." She paused, licking her lips nervously. "I find such men boring."

The room went silent.
"What are you saying?" I whispered, shocked.

"I am saying I have needs!" she said, her voice getting a little louder, a little sharper. "I tried to control it, but today... with him... I felt something different. And Shubhankar, you have to adjust to this. You have to understand me."

"Adjust?" I stood up, shouting. "You cheat on me and tell me to adjust?"
She looked me dead in the eye, her face turning cold. "Yes. Because if you don't adjust, and if you try to do something stupid like hitting me or throwing me out... I will take the legal way. You know the laws in this country, Shubhankar. One complaint of domestic violence, one complaint that you are torturing me for dowry, and you and your parents will be in jail. So, don't scream at me."

I froze. She was threatening me. My wife, who I treated like a flower, was holding the law like a gun to my head.
"Shubhankar, sit down," Shweta Bhabhi said quickly, standing up and blocking me. "Listen to her. If you don't talk and resolve these issues, you are looking at a messy divorce. Do you want security officer at your door? Do you want your parents to suffer?"

I looked at Shweta Bhabhi. She was defending her? She was telling me to calm down when my wife was blackmailing me?
I sat down, feeling defeated. I looked at Mishti again.
"Okay," I said, my voice shaking with sarcasm. "Tell me then. Since I am so boring. What did you like in that man? What does he have that I don't?"

Mishti didn't look down this time. A little naughtiness came onto her face. That shameless smile appeared again, the one she had when she was on the bed.
"He was wild," she whispered, her eyes shining with the memory. "He made me feel... aroused. And I loved it."

I felt like someone slapped me.

"See Bhabhi!" I pointed a trembling finger at Mishti. "See this smile! This was the smile I was talking about. I had never seen her smile like this before. Bhabhi, she has changed. Something has happened. She is enjoying this!"

Shweta Bhabhi sighed, looking at me with a strange calmness. "Shubhankar, accept it now. She has desires. Try to resolve it otherwise We will be sitting here talking for next 2 days and there will be no solution if you just keep judging her kink."
I looked at Shweta Bhabhi with suspicion. Her reaction was too calm. Too understanding.

Wait a minute, I thought. Did Bhabhi know about Mishti's affair? Why is she not shocked? What is going on between these two?
I felt like I was the only outsider in this room. Something was way off.
I stopped the discussion. I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up.

"Fine," I said. "I am going back home. And Mishti is coming with me." I stepped closer to her. "But listen to me. If you ever dare to do this kind of thing again, I will..." I stopped. I looked at her neck, at the saree revealing her skin. "I will not say it. But you know what I will do."
Mishti didn't look scared. She looked up at Shweta Bhabhi. And Bhabhi looked back at Mishti.
It was a split-second look. A look of shared secrets. A look that said, 'He doesn't know anything yet.'

Amit saw it too.

Amit was standing in the corner, and I saw his face change. He started sensing something is off. His wife was taking sides of Mishti way too much.
"Mishti," Amit said suddenly, his voice sharp. "You go back to the house now. Go. Shubhankar will follow you."
"Okay Bhaiya," Mishti got up, adjusted her saree pallu over her shoulder, and walked out of the door without looking at me again.
The door clicked shut.

Amit turned to his wife. "Shweta, go inside. Check what Munna is doing. He has been quiet for a long time."
"He is sleeping, Amit," Shweta said.
"I said go and check on him," Amit said, his voice firm.

Shweta hesitated, looked at me nervously, and then left the living room and went inside the bedroom.
Now it was just me and Amit.

Amit walked up to me. He looked worried. "Shubhankar, I think we should talk later. In private. Not here."

I understood what Amit meant. He didn't trust his own house right now.
"I understand," I said.
I turned to leave. I walked towards the main door, which was next to the passage leading to the bedrooms. The bedroom door was slightly ajar.
As I passed by, I looked inside.

Shweta Bhabhi was sitting on the bed with the baby. She was breastfeeding. Her blouse was completely unhooked and opened wide. I froze.
She wasn't covering herself with a dupatta. She had her full, heavy breast out. I could see the blue veins popping out on her milky white skin. One nipple was in Munna's mouth, he was sucking hungrily. But the other breast... it was hanging loose, fully exposed.
And the nipple was hard. It was erect and aroused, dark brown and pointed, standing stiff in the air.

Shweta Bhabhi looked up and saw me standing at the door.
She didn't scream. She didn't pull her saree to cover her chest.

Instead, she smiled.

She shifted her body on the bed, turning towards me, making sure I saw her whole upper body clearly. She arched her back slightly, presenting her open blouse and her wet, nursing breasts to me. It was an invitation. It was a taunt. It was the same look Mishti had.
I stared for a second too long, my breath getting stuck in my throat, seeing the wife of my best friend exposing herself to me with that dirty smile.
I turned my face away, feeling a mix of heat and disgust, and walked out of the house, slamming the front door behind me.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 5: The Trap and The Temptation

I eventually checked into a cheap hotel nearby just to get away from the house, but after tossing and turning for two hours, I realized I couldn't stay alone. The silence was eating me alive. I went back to Amit’s house late at night. They let me sleep in the guest room.

Sleep didn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. 
Then Next Day, Around 5 a.m., my phone vibrated on the side table. I looked at the screen. Mishti. One message.

“Please don’t misunderstand everything. I have spoken to someone for advice. Let’s handle this maturely.”

That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just… advice.

My stomach twisted. I sat up on the bed, rubbing my face with both hands. The house was quiet. Amit and Shweta were still asleep in the master bedroom. Outside, the city was slowly waking up. Milkmen, newspaper boys, normal life continuing, while mine was hanging by a thread.
I typed back. Then deleted it. Typed again. Deleted again. Anything I wrote felt dangerous. If I wrote "I hate you," she could use it as proof of aggression. If I wrote "Come back," she would think I am weak.

Another message came. “I don’t want things to get ugly, Shubhankar. You know how society is. Let’s talk calmly.”

Calmly. I laughed softly to myself. A dry laugh. She was careful now. Every word measured. Every sentence sounding reasonable. Like she was already practicing how to explain things to someone else. She was creating a paper trail.

I didn’t reply.

At 8:30 a.m., my phone rang. Unknown number. I stared at it for a few seconds before answering. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Mr. Shubhankar,” a woman’s voice said, polite, professional. “I’m calling from a legal consultancy. I’m speaking on behalf of Mrs. Mishti.”

My chest tightened. It felt like a physical blow. “Yes?” I said.
“There seems to be some misunderstanding between you and your wife,” she continued smoothly. “She is feeling mentally harassed and unsafe at the moment. She just wanted you to know that she is seeking guidance to protect herself.”

Protect herself ? I held the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. I was the one who was cheated on.

“I haven’t touched her,” I said quickly, panic rising in my throat. “I haven’t even spoken to her since yesterday.”
“I understand,” the woman replied calmly. “This is not an accusation. This is just an intimation. We hope things can be resolved amicably.”

Resolved amicably. The call ended. I sat there frozen. This wasn’t anger. This was planning.

I suddenly understood something very clearly. She wasn’t scared of me. She was prepared. 

Then I heard movement outside. I walked out to the living room. Amit was up, making coffee. He looked tired too.
I called Amit and went to him to talk about the message. Amit was standing near the door, watching me silently.

“You got the call?” he asked. He knew. Of course, he knew. He had been listening.

I nodded.

Amit exhaled slowly. “Then listen to me very carefully now. From this moment, don’t say a single word to her directly. No messages. No calls. Nothing. Whatever you say will be recorded.”

I swallowed. “She has already started, Amit.”

---

An hour later, Amit got dressed. He had to go to the office; he had some urgent meeting he couldn't skip. I told him I would stay back for a bit and then leave. I was still at Amit and Shweta Bhabhi's place. The house was quiet again after Amit left.

Shweta Bhabhi came out of the kitchen. She was wearing a simple cotton housecoat, but her hair was open, cascading down her back. She sat close to me on the sofa with Munna in her lap.

She kept looking at me with those big eyes and said, “Shubhankar, you are a decent guy, don't stretch it too much. She has made a mistake. Just move on. If there is something else you want to share with me, we can talk about it. I am here for you.”

I knew what she was doing. She would relay this same message to Mishti. These feminists, these women, they are in total control. They stick together like a pack of wolves. She wanted me to "move on" so her friend could get away with cheating.
I changed the topic. I couldn't talk about Mishti anymore.

I looked at her and said, “Bhabhi, yesterday when I was leaving the house... I saw you in the bedroom. I am sorry, I should not have looked. It was inappropriate of me.”

Shweta Bhabhi laughed softly. She adjusted Munna in her lap, rocking him gently. She looked at me, her eyes twinkling with something that wasn't regret.

“Why be sorry, Shubhankar?” she asked, her voice dropping a little low. “You are a man. Eyes go where they want to go. And honestly... I didn't mind. Maybe I wanted you to see. Maybe I wanted to see if you still have that fire in you, or if Mishti was right about you being ‘boring’.”

I was stunned. I opened my mouth to speak, but she didn't let me.

Just then, she opened her blouse. She undid all the buttons, one by one, maintaining eye contact with me. She pulled the fabric aside and started feeding Munna in front of me.

I saw everything. This time, it was close. Not from the doorway. Right in front of me. Her breasts were heavy, full of milk, pale and soft with prominent blue veins running across them. The dark areola was disappearing into Munna’s mouth.
I got up as any decent man would do and tried to walk away. 

But Shweta Bhabhi reached out with her free hand and held my wrist. 
“No need to walk away, Shubhankar,” she said softly. “You are family. Sit.”

I sat back down, helpless. I watched as Munna sucked everything, making small gulping noises. Then, he let go. Shweta Bhabhi didn't cover herself. She shifted him to the other side.

For a moment, between the shift, her wet, sucked nipple was exposed, glistening with saliva and milk. Then she brought out the other breast. It was heavy, swinging slightly before she guided it into the baby's mouth.
I was sitting right there, my arm brushing against her leg. I was looking on the other side, at the TV which was switched off, trying to maintain my composure. My heart was hammering against my ribs.

Bhabhi noticed my struggle. “Am I not good looking?” she asked playfully. “Why are you looking the other way? Are my breasts not nice?”
I choked on my own spit. I said, “No, no. Bhabhi, you are very beautiful. But I am feeling uncomfortable. Amit is my friend.”

“Amit is at office,” she whispered.

Munna fell asleep in Bhabhi's lap after a few minutes. Bhabhi carefully put Munna on the sofa cushion next to her.
Then, she stood up. She stood right in front of me. I was sitting, so my face was level with her chest. Her blouse was still wide open.

She didn't button it up immediately. She stood there for five seconds, letting me get a full, high-definition view of her assets. They were rising and falling with her breath. She smiled that same mysterious, knowing smile.
Then, slowly, she pulled them back into her blouse and started buttoning up.

“Think about what I said, Shubhankar,” she said. “Don't fight a war you can't win. Sometimes, it's better to just... enjoy what life shows you.”
She turned around and went inside the bedroom, swaying her hips.

I sat there alone in the living room, sweating. I kept thinking what is going on? The women are so hard to deal with. One is trapping me with laws, and the other is trapping me with her body. It felt like a coordinated attack on my sanity.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the house. I just couldn't take it anymore.
I walked down the stairs. My mind was a mess. I felt cornered. I felt weak. But more than anything, I felt a strange, dark excitement mixing with my anger. My wife had called me boring. Shweta Bhabhi had teased me about being boring.

Is this what they want? I thought. Do they want me to stop being a gentleman?

I stepped out into the harsh sunlight, feeling like the Shubhankar who entered that house yesterday was gone, and someone else was slowly taking his place. Someone who was done with being "decent."

[ashuezy2]

Scene 6: The Trap


I didn't go to Amit’s place. I couldn't face him, not after seeing his wife exposing herself to me.
I sat on a broken cement bench near a small park. Dust on my trousers. I didn’t bother brushing it off. For the first time since yesterday, I stopped reacting. The noise in my head stopped.

For the first time, I didn’t look at Mishti’s messages.
That night, alone in a small hotel room, I looked at the ceiling fan rotating slowly. Tick, tick, tick.
In the evening, I went to meet someone Amit had mentioned quietly a long time ago. Not a famous lawyer. Not a loud one. A woman in her late forties. Calm eyes. No nonsense. She sat in a small office filled with files.

She didn’t interrupt me once. She listened. She took notes. She asked only three questions.
“Did you hit her?” “No.”
“Did you threaten her?” “No.”
“Do you have witnesses for yesterday?” “Yes.”
She closed her notebook. “Then don’t panic,” she said. “And don’t try to be nice. Just be precise.”
That word stayed with me. Precise.

Next Day

I didn’t wake up angry that day. That scared me. Anger at least tells you you’re alive. This was different. My head felt clear. Empty. Sharp. It was like the emotional part of my brain had been surgically removed.

I ordered tea at a roadside stall and watched people pass by. Nobody knew what was happening in my life. That invisibility felt… useful.
I took out my phone. I opened Mishti’s chat. Not to reply. To read. Slowly. Every message she had sent over the last year. Dates. Times. Gaps.
I noticed something I hadn’t before. She never texted me in the afternoons. Never between 2 p.m. and 5 p.m. Not once. Funny thing—that’s when I was always in meetings. That’s when she knew I wouldn't call.

I smiled for the first time. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a cold realization. This was her meeting time as well.

I messaged her. One line. “I am not well. I am confused. We should talk.”
That’s it. No accusations. No anger. No strength. Weakness is bait.
Her reply came in thirty seconds. “I told you, calm discussion is better. Let’s meet somewhere neutral.”

I replied: “Okay. Wherever you feel safe.”
She liked that message. Actually liked it.

We met at a café near a metro station. Crowded. Cameras everywhere. Noise. She arrived ten minutes late. On purpose. She looked relaxed. Confident. Almost bored. She was wearing sunglasses which she placed on the table.
She didn’t ask how I was. She said, “So. Have you thought?”
“Yes,” I said. “About everything.”

Good.

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “I don’t want drama, Shubhankar. I want to live my life. Come back home and Adjust. If you can handle my needs, we can be fine. If not... you know the options.”

I looked at my hands, pretending to be defeated. "Okay," I whispered. "I... I will Adjust."
She blinked. She didn't expect me to fold this fast. "Really?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, looking up with fake desperation. "I don't want to lose you, Mishti. I don't want a divorce. I don't want parents to cry. If... if you want an open marriage, if you want to see other men... I will cooperate. I will not stop you."
Her face changed. The tension left her shoulders. A smile appeared—not the shameless one, but a triumphant one.
"That is very mature of you, Shubhankar," she said, reaching out to touch my hand. "See? I knew you loved me."
"But please," I added softly. "Before I do this... you be honest with me. Tell me everything. If we are going to be open, I need to know what you have been doing behind my back. Just so I can prepare myself."

She resisted at first. "Why dig up the past?"
"Because I need to trust you again," I lied smoothly. "I need to know it wasn't emotional. Was it just sex?"
"It was just sex, baba," she laughed, finally relaxing completely. She started spilling out the details. "I need excitement. You are sweet, but I need rough. I met him at the gym. It's been going on for two months. And not just him... there was one guy before him too. A colleague from my old office."

She didn't tell me the names, but she described acts. She described how they treated her like a piece of meat, how they used her in ways I never did, and how much she craved that humiliation. She spoke about it casually, like she was discussing a movie plot.
"Like this one time," she said, leaning in, her eyes shining with the dirty memory. "It was lunch break. Everyone was in the cafeteria. He called me to the archives room. It was dark. He didn't even kiss me, Shubhankar. He just bent me over a stack of old files. I was wearing a skirt. He lifted it up and ripped my panties. I tried to say no, but he slapped my ass so hard it left a handprint for two days. He took me right there, standing up, holding my neck. I was biting the files to stop from screaming. He finished inside me and just zipped up and left. I had to walk back to my desk with his cum dripping down my legs. It was... exhilarating."

I nodded, swallowing the bile in my throat. I kept my face blank, but my hand under the table was gripping my thigh so hard I was probably bruising myself.
Then, I played my final card.
"And... does Shweta Bhabhi know?" I asked innocently. "Does she know you are like this?"
Mishti paused. She looked at me, then looked away. "Shweta is my best friend. She understands me."
"Is she... is she a part of this too?" I asked, pushing gently. "I mean, you guys spend so much time together. Is she also meeting people outside marriage?"
"Shh, keep your voice down," Mishti hissed, looking around.
"I won't tell Amit," I said. "We are in this together now, right? Open marriage. No secrets."
Mishti smirked. She leaned in closer across the table.
"Shweta is worse than me," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with gossip. "You think I am bad? Shweta is in high demand."
My heart stopped. "What do you mean?"
"She has a thing for... older men. Rich men," Mishti revealed, enjoying the shock on my face. "She tells Amit she is going to her Mom's house to stay for a few days with Munna. But she drops Munna at her mom's place and goes to farmhouses. She does what she wants."
"Farmhouses?" I repeated.

"Yes. Parties. Private parties," Mishti said. "She gets bored sitting at home with the baby. She says she needs to feel desirable again. She is wild, Shubhankar. You have no idea."
"What do you mean by high demand?" I asked, looking confused.
Mishti giggled. "She has big assets, na? You have seen her. At these parties, the old rich uncles... they go crazy for her milk. Shweta lets them... drink. She says it's natural. Last month, at a party in Chhatarpur, she had three men lined up just to suck on her while she drank champagne.

I thought of Shweta Bhabhi opening her blouse yesterday. The way she taunted me. 'Maybe I wanted you to see.' The way she smiled when I looked at her nipple. It all made sense now. She wasn't just flirting; she was practicing.

"And Amit?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "Does Amit know about this?"
Mishti laughed. A cruel, dismissive laugh.

"No," she replied, taking a sip of her cold coffee. "He has no idea. He thinks she is the perfect 'Sati Savitri' wife. Poor guy."
I looked at Mishti. I looked at the woman who destroyed my life, now laughing about destroying my best friend's life.
"Poor guy," I repeated.

I had heard enough. I had the confirmation. I had the recording app running on my phone in my shirt pocket since the moment I sat down.
"Okay," I said, standing up. "Let's go back home."
Mishti smiled, thinking she had tamed me, thinking she had won the jackpot, a husband who would pay the bills while she slept around. She picked up her sunglasses.

"Let's go, Shona," she said sweetly.

I followed her out, looking at her back. She didn't know it yet, but she had just handed me the keys to my freedom, and the bomb that would blow up Amit’s life.