Adultery The Facilitator

[clearlover]

PART J


Kunal woke up around 11 AM, the late hour because of the turmoil and alcohol that had kept him in a restless, nightmare-filled sleep. The sun was already high, casting a harsh light that made his head throb even more. The remnants of last night's events clung to his consciousness like a bad dream, but the reality of it all became painfully clear as he looked around the room.

His movements were slow, heavy with the weight of his thoughts, as he got out of bed, his body protesting every step. He passed by the guest room, noticing the door ajar, a sight that twisted his stomach into knots. Esha was there, already awake, her posture calm but her face betraying a hint of embarrassment. They couldn't meet each other's eyes; it was as if they were both afraid of what they might see reflected there. Aniket was nowhere to be seen, the room empty except for the lingering scent of betrayal.

Kunal watched from the doorway as Esha, in an attempt to find some normalcy, moved to the kitchen to prepare her chai. Her back was to him, an act that felt both routine and alien after what had transpired. Seeing her so composed, despite the situation, stirred something in him—anger, hurt, confusion.

It was then, with her making tea, that Kunal felt the confrontation was inevitable. He followed her into the kitchen, his steps echoing his inner turmoil, the small space suddenly feeling like a battlefield where words were the weapons.

"Did you enjoy it? Last night, with him?" Kunal's voice was a mix of accusation and pain, his eyes fixed on the table, unable to look at Esha.

Esha turned, her face unreadable, her voice calm but firm. "It was your idea, Kunal. Don't act like I wanted this behind your back."

Kunal scoffed, his bitterness spilling over. "But you did, didn't you? You wanted him. You've always wanted him."

Esha's eyes flashed with anger, but she kept her composure. "I'm not your toy, Kunal. I have my own individuality, my own desires. You can't just decide my actions for your entertainment."

The words stung, and Kunal's voice rose, tinged with hurt. "Entertainment? Is that what you think this was about?"

Esha's tone softened, but her resolve didn't waver. "I take full responsibility for what happened. If you consider it a sin, then yes, I'll bear that weight. But you pushed for it, Kunal. I went along because I thought it was what you needed to understand."

Kunal was caught off guard, his anger momentarily shifting to confusion. "Understand what? That you've been lying to me? That you've been with him all this time?"

"I never lied about my feelings, Kunal. I just didn't know how to share them with you," Esha said, her voice cracking slightly, betraying her own turmoil.

Kunal shook his head, the weight of his emotions overwhelming. "I thought we were fixing something. Instead, I feel like I've lost everything."

Esha looked away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm ready for whatever decision you make about our future. I won't fight you on this."

The air was thick with the weight of their exchange, the room feeling smaller with each word. Kunal felt a surge of anger at her acceptance, as if she had given up on them. "You're just ready to walk away? After everything?"

Esha's voice was a whisper, laden with her own pain. "I'm not walking away, Kunal. I'm standing still, hoping we can find a way back to each other, but I won't force you to stay where you don't want to be."

Kunal's hands clenched into fists, his voice a low growl of frustration. "You've changed, Esha. I don't even recognize you anymore."

"And maybe you never did," Esha countered, her voice rising with a mix of sadness and defiance. "Maybe you only saw what you wanted to see."

Kunal stood abruptly, his chair scbanging against the floor, the sound echoing the discord in their hearts. "This isn't about what I wanted to see. It's about what you did, what we did."

Esha stood as well, her posture defensive yet defeated. "I did what I thought was right, Kunal. For us, for you. But it seems we've both lost our way in this."

Kunal turned away, his back to her, his voice a murmur of defeat. "Maybe we did."

The conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving both in a cold silence. They retreated to their own corners of the house, Esha to the bedroom, Kunal decided to go to his office so that he can divert the attention from his home , each lost in a sea of introspection and regret. The day stretched on, each minute a reminder of the chasm that had formed between them, a chasm filled with accusations, misunderstandings, and the painful realization that their love, once so strong, now seemed fragile, teetering on the edge of something unrecognizable.


The silence that followed their confrontation was deafening. Kunal found himself in his office, the room feeling more like a cage than a sanctuary. He sat at his desk, staring blankly at the screen of his laptop, but his mind was miles away, trapped in the memories of the night before.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Esha, not as the woman he had married, but as she was with Aniket. Her laughter, the way her eyes lit up with a different kind of joy, the intimacy they shared in the shadows of their home - these images flashed before him like a relentless movie reel. The sight of her in that sky-blue saree, the one she had worn for her birthday, now seemed like a costume for a performance he hadn't realized was for someone else.

His emotions were a tangled mess. Anger surged in him, hot and demanding, at the betrayal, at his own naivety. But beneath that, there was a profound sadness, a sense of loss not just for what they had but for what he thought they were. The jealousy was visceral, gnawing at him every time he remembered how Aniket had touched Esha, how she had responded to him.

Kunal felt foolish for believing that watching them together would bring clarity or closure. Instead, it had torn open a wound, exposing his insecurities and doubts. He replayed the moment when Esha had whispered to Aniket, the soft, seductive tone of her voice that he had never heard directed at him. It was like discovering a new side of her, one that was vibrant, passionate, and completely foreign to the life they shared.

He was angry at Esha for allowing it, for not stopping it, but he was angrier at himself for initiating it. The realization that he had pushed her into this situation, thinking it might heal them, was a bitter pill to swallow. His pride was shattered, replaced by a hollow, echoing guilt.

In the quiet of his office, Kunal grappled with the complexity of his feelings. He wanted to lash out, to demand explanations, to understand why she had sought something different from what they had. But every time he thought of confronting her again, the image of her calm face this morning, the way she had accepted her part in this mess, made him pause. Was it resignation or acceptance? Did she no longer care about their marriage?

The house was unusually quiet when he returned home, reflecting the chasm that had grown between them. As he entered, he heard Aditya's laughter from the living room, a sound that momentarily lifted the heavy veil of his thoughts. He found his son playing with a new toy, oblivious to the adult complexities around him. Aditya's joy was a stark reminder of what was at stake, of the innocence they were duty-bound to protect.

Seeing his son so carefree, Kunal felt a pang of guilt. How would they explain this to him if their marriage crumbled? He watched Aditya for a moment, his heart aching with the weight of the future they might have to navigate.

Esha was nowhere to be seen, likely in their bedroom, perhaps going through her own battle of emotions. Kunal imagined her sitting on their bed, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts about what this meant for them, for Aditya, for the life they had built.

He felt the urge to go to her, to talk, to understand, but the weight of their words from this morning held him back. What would they say to each other now? Could apologies mend what was broken? Or were they just words that would echo in the emptiness between them?

As the evening deepened, the house grew quiet again once Aditya was distracted with his toys. Kunal retreated to his own thoughts, the silence around him thick with questions and unsaid words. He knew he needed to think, to process, to find some semblance of peace within himself before he could even consider approaching Esha again. The images of Esha and Aniket continued to haunt him, each one a reminder of the night that had changed everything. But beneath the anger and the hurt, there was a quiet voice asking him to look beyond the betrayal, to see what had led them here, to understand if there was still a path back to each other.



One day, Kunal accidentally overheard Esha talking to Priya about a new job offer at another bank. Surprised and curious, he decided to call Priya to understand more. The conversation he had just unwittingly eavesdropped on was like a puzzle piece he didn't know was missing.

"Hey, Priya," Kunal started, his voice a mix of confusion and urgency. "Esha mentioned something about changing jobs?"

Priya's tone was sharp, almost expectant. "Oh, you finally noticed? Esha's been thinking about moving on, especially after everything that's happened."

Kunal felt a sting of ignorance. "She never told me. Did she decide this because of me?"

Priya's laugh was tinged with irony. "Not everything is about you, Kunal. Esha and Aniket decided to move on the day you came to know about them. She knew you knew, and she chose to end it there. But you... you made it about you, didn't you?"

Kunal was taken aback, his voice low. "But she was enjoying it with Aniket that night. How can she just decide to move on?"

Priya's response was swift, her voice thick with a feminist edge. "Do you even know Esha? Was she supposed to just have sex for your entertainment, Kunal? What's wrong with her wanting to live her life fully, to have that one last moment with Aniket on her terms?"

Kunal felt the weight of his mistake, his words hesitant. "I thought it would help us, give me some kind of closure."

"Closure?" Priya's voice rose with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "Or was it about you reclaiming control over her life? Esha isn't a character in your story to fix, Kunal. She's a person with her own life, her own needs. If she found a way to say goodbye to a chapter, who are you to judge how she does it?"

Kunal's heart sank further. "I pushed her back into it, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. And she complied, not because she wanted to keep something going with Aniket, but because she was closing a door you had forced open. She wanted to make that night something meaningful for herself, not just for your twisted sense of resolution."

The realization was heavy, Kunal's voice barely a whisper. "I've messed up, haven't I?"

Priya's voice softened, acknowledging the complexity of the situation but not excusing his actions. "You both have, in different ways. But Esha's trying to move forward, to redefine herself. Maybe you should think about what you really want, what she needs, and if you can meet her halfway without trying to dictate her life."

The call ended, leaving Kunal in a silence that was louder than any argument. He sat there, the weight of his actions, of his misunderstanding, pressing down on him. The thought of Esha moving on, not just from Aniket but from the life they had built together, was daunting. He wondered if he could ever reconcile with the man he was and the one he needed to be for Esha and Aditya. The evening stretched on, with Kunal lost in a sea of regret and the daunting task of understanding what truly lay at the heart of their marriage.



The days following his conversation with Priya felt like a haze for Kunal. Each interaction, each moment of silence, was a reminder of his profound misunderstanding of Esha, of their life together. The house seemed to echo with the absence of what once was, the laughter, the easy conversations, now replaced by a palpable tension.

He sat in his office, the screen of his laptop a blur as his mind replayed his talk with Priya. The accusation in her voice, the realization that he had viewed Esha through a lens of possession rather than partnership, gnawed at him. He felt a raw, aching guilt, not just for pushing Esha into a situation that was his own making but for not seeing her as an individual with her own desires and needs.

Kunal's thoughts drifted to Esha, to the woman he had married, the one he thought he knew so well. But now, he questioned if he had ever truly seen her or if he had only seen what he wanted to see. The memory of her with Aniket, not just in the physical sense but in the moments of genuine connection, made him confront his own inadequacies. Had he been so consumed with his role as a provider that he forgot to be a partner, a friend, a lover in the ways she needed?

His anger had transformed into a deep, unsettling regret. He realized that his demand for watching them together was not about understanding her but about controlling the narrative of their marriage. The image of Esha, determined and strong, choosing to end her physical relationship with Aniket on her terms, was a stark contrast to the Esha he had tried to mold into his own expectations.

The silence of the house was a constant reminder of the distance between them. He wondered about Esha's thoughts, her feelings. Was she feeling the same weight of regret, or had she moved on to a place of acceptance? The thought that she might have found a sense of liberation from their marriage, from him, was both freeing and terrifying.

He wandered through their home, each room a memoir to their shared life, now tinged with the shadows of his mistakes. Kunal found himself in Aditya's toys scattered on the floor, a symbol of a simpler time. He was struck by the realization that he had risked not just his relationship with Esha but the stability of their family for a moment of misguided clarity.

Kunal felt the weight of his selfishness. He had been so focused on his own pain, his own betrayal, that he hadn't considered the turmoil he'd put Esha through. The thought of her having to navigate her desires, her guilt, her love for their family, all while dealing with his demands, made his heart clench with remorse.

He knew he had to apologize, not just with words but with actions, with a genuine attempt to understand Esha's world outside of his own. But the fear of rejection, of it being too late, held him back. What if his apology was just another attempt to control, to pull her back into a life she might no longer want?

The evening light faded, and Kunal sat in the dark, the only sound the soft breathing of Aditya sleeping nearby. He was lost in a sea of emotions, regret at the forefront, mixed with a desperate need to make things right. He understood now that love wasn't about possession or control but about growth, understanding, and sometimes, letting go.

For the first time in days, Kunal felt tears well up, not just for what he had lost but for the man he had been, the man he needed to become. He knew the path forward wouldn't be easy, that Esha might not forgive him, that their marriage might not survive. But he also knew he had to try, not for the marriage they had but for the possibility of something new, something built on mutual respect and real understanding.

This realization was the beginning of Kunal's journey towards personal evolution, a journey that would lead him to attempt to reconnect with Esha in ways he hadn't before, striving to be the partner she needed, though not yet aware of the  path ahead.



The morning after his night of introspection, Kunal found himself wandering through the house, each step heavy with the weight of his reflections. The tension between him and Esha was still thick, their interactions minimal, filled with the unsaid. The house felt like a hollow shell of what it once was, a place where joy had lived, now just a stage for their silent battle.

Kunal entered the guestroom, a place that had become a symbol of his folly. His eyes caught sight of a small, elegantly wrapped gift lying on the bed, a contrast to the disarray of his thoughts. Curiosity mixed with a pang of jealousy, he approached it, noticing the card attached: "For Esha, with all the love and respect, Aniket."

The card was a goodbye, a farewell to the part of their lives that had intertwined. The message was heartfelt, filled with gratitude for the moments they shared and a wish for her happiness in the future. It was clear this was Aniket's way of closing a chapter, of giving Esha something to remember their time together by, not just as a lover but as someone who had seen her in ways Kunal hadn't.

Kunal's hand trembled as he picked up the soft fabric of the gift, a scarf with intricate designs, its texture a silent symbol of Aniket's understanding of Esha's taste. Holding it, he was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. There was jealousy, yes, but also a profound sadness for the part he played in pushing Esha into this situation.

The gift was a reminder of his failure to see beyond his own insecurities, his own need for control. It stung to realize that Aniket had managed to give Esha something so personal, so meaningful, while he had been caught up in a web of betrayal and misunderstanding. The scarf wasn't just fabric; it was a symbol of Aniket's respect for Esha, something Kunal felt he had lost sight of in their relationship.

Anger at himself bubbled up, but it was quickly drowned by regret. He sat on the edge of the bed, the scarf in his hands, feeling the weight of his mistakes. He had wanted to understand, but in doing so, he had only pushed Esha further away, into the arms of a man who appreciated her in ways he had failed to.

Kunal's mind went back to the conversations they had once had, the laughter they shared, the dreams they built together. How had he lost sight of that? The realization that he had contributed to this distance was like a knife twisting in his heart. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he had been part of the problem, not just the victim of Esha's actions.

Tears blurred his vision as he thought about the love he still felt for Esha, a love now muddled with guilt and a desperate wish to undo his mistakes. He imagined Esha receiving this gift, perhaps with a bittersweet smile, acknowledging the end of something significant but also the beginning of healing, of moving on.

The silence of the room was broken only by his own breathing, each breath a reminder of the life they had built, now hanging by a thread. He knew he had to change, not just for Esha but for himself. This gift, this goodbye from Aniket, was a harsh but necessary wake-up call.

He returned the scarf to the bed, placing it gently, a silent promise to himself that he would try to be better, to understand Esha not as an extension of himself but as her own person. The journey ahead would be one of redemption, of learning to let go of the old to make room for whatever new form their relationship might take. It was time for him to grow, to evolve, to perhaps find a way to love Esha in all her complexities, not just the parts he had chosen to see.


The days following the discovery of Aniket's goodbye gift were a period of deep introspection for Kunal. The scarf, a tangible reminder of his shortcomings, lay on the guestroom bed as if waiting for him to confront the reality of his actions. He knew he had to take steps towards healing, not just for the sake of his marriage but for his own growth.

Kunal started by observing Esha more closely, not with the intent to control but to understand. He noticed the small things he had overlooked: the way she lingered over her morning chai, the books she chose to read, the subtle changes in her mood. Each observation was like piecing together a puzzle, seeing Esha not just as his wife but as an individual with her own passions and needs.

He remembered how Aniket had seemed to know Esha in ways he hadn't. It wasn't just about the physical connection; Aniket had engaged with her on an intellectual and emotional level. Kunal decided to start there. He proposed they have dinner together, just the two of them, something they hadn't done in what felt like ages.

Over dinner, Kunal initiated conversations about topics beyond their usual routine. He asked about her day, genuinely interested, not just as a formality. He listened as Esha spoke about her work, her challenges, her small victories. He saw the light in her eyes when she talked about a new bank she would join or when she mentioned a book she was reading. Kunal made a mental note to delve into those subjects himself, to share in her interests, to show he cared about what excited her.

Physically, Kunal realized he had neglected to explore Esha's desires in the way Aniket had. He began to pay more attention to her body language, her responses to touch. One evening, with a newfound resolve, he approached her in the kitchen, gently massaging her shoulders while she cooked. His touch was not just about initiating intimacy but about offering comfort, showing he was there for her in all aspects.

Kunal also took it upon himself to learn more about what pleased Esha. He remembered how Aniket had known to gift her that scarf, how he had seemed to know her taste. Kunal began to ask Esha about the things she enjoyed, from simple pleasures like her favorite tea to more intimate preferences. He was careful to keep these inquiries respectful, understanding that this was about understanding her, not just about sex.

He initiated a new ritual in their life; a weekly date night where they would try something new. One week it was a cooking class, the next, a visit to an art museum. These activities were not just about having fun but about reconnecting, about Kunal showing Esha that he was willing to step out of his comfort zone for her, to explore life alongside her. Both appreciated the cultural enrichment, the quiet moments in front of paintings that sparked conversations about beauty, life, and their own aspirations.

Kunal also sought to educate himself on the dynamics of relationships, reading books on communication, desire, and personal growth. He was particularly struck by ideas around emotional intelligence and how he could better support Esha's individuality. He started attending workshops on partnership, not just for the sake of their marriage but for his growth as a person.

The most significant step, however, was his apology. One night, in the quiet of their living room, he took Esha's hands in his. "Esha, I'm so sorry," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I've not been the partner you deserved. I want to understand you, to support you, to love you in the way you need, not just the way I thought was right."

Esha's eyes, filled with a mix of caution and hope, met his. The journey towards healing was only beginning, but Kunal's actions were a beacon of his intent. He was no longer the man who demanded control but one striving to be a companion in her journey, to explore with her, to grow with her. This was his path to redemption, to perhaps one day reconcile with the woman he loved, in a way that honored her needs as much as his own.