Adultery Indian Social Worker and the Bully by shiprat

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Oh! I had no idea!" I said, showing surprise, although inside, I was relieved she was okay.

Nita was staring at me, trying to read my expressions. Then she continued.

"Her official statement says that after relocation, she realized she had made a mistake. And so she contacted the husband. And he came to meet her. And they made up. And they want to give it another go."

"That is.....disappointing."

"I'm sure it is. I can see from the notes and from what I have heard that you worked really hard on this case."

"I did."

"Then what happened? Why do you think she recanted and returned him him?"

I looked at her and gave a small shrug.

"It happens....the cycle of abuse theory as Lenore..."

"Yes, yes, the cycle of abuse theory by Lenore Walker. I know all about it. Don't teach me social psychology, Shikha. I have learned more than you have forgotten." she angrily said.

I was taken aback by this outburst. I just sat there with my mouth open, my mind unable to race fast enough to come up with a palatable lie.

She looked a little embarrassed herself. She looked down at her notes for a few seconds. And then looked me at me.

"Shikha, please. Stop fighting me. Just tell me the truth. I know there is something you are hiding. You were one of our stars. I consider you a beloved protege. I wrote you a glowing recommendation for your PhD. I talked to folks at Stanford about you. You are destined for great things. This.....this makes no sense. You resign with immediate effect. Not even a notice period. You dodge our attempts to get you to come back in for so long. When you do show up, you are drunk in the morning. And this thing happens. Something is off. More importantly, something is wrong. Help me understand it. Just be honest."

"Nita....I.....I don't know..." I put my face in my hands and did my best not to cry.

She got up and joined me on the couch, putting her hands on my kurta. She rubbed the fabric a little, over my shoulder and then my back. I involuntarily took a sharp breath when her fingers rubbed a sore bruise. That made her pause.

"There is one more thing I was wondering about." she said. "It's a really hot day."

I raised my face and looked at her. She had trained me, so I knew where she was going with this.

"I have known you for many many years. You're not a prude when it comes to dressing. And you always favor comfort, I have noticed. When it is a really hot day, I see you in sleeveless kameezes or tops, capris, skirts. Never anything skimpy, but always comfortable. Today it is 42 celsius and you have come in wearing a full sleeve salwar kameez. And just now you....."

She trailed off and looked at me. My shoulders slumped.

I felt her hands slowly reach for my kameez and pull it up. I didn't resist. She pulled it up slowly and gasped when she was the bruises on my back and my stomach.

"I have seen enough." she said and dropped the fabric down.

She got up and paced a little. I just sat there like an errant student staring at my hands, my face red with shame. She spoke after a few seconds.

"Do you have any money in your purse?"

I was taken aback by that question. I looked up and nodded.

"Give me some. Anything. Even a one rupee coin."

I opened the purse, grabbed the first note I found and gave it to her.

"This 20 rupee note can be your first down-payment to hire me as your psycho-therapist. If you want me to serve in that capacity that is."

This was such a confusing development, that I looked at her with a genuinely baffled expression.

"Whatever we talk about in an exit interview can be reviewed by any senior management in the organization. But if you talk to me as a patient, well, I am licensed to practice psychiatry in multiple country, including USA where the patient privacy laws are way stricter than India. So I have to always adhere to them wherever I am. Whatever you tell me....."