Wicked Whispers

[rinxox]

Dinner

She was laughing at some meme Noor had posted in their group chat, describing it with too much detail, like she needed the noise. I took a slow bite of my food and waited for the right moment.

“I ran into Joss today, by the way,” I said, keeping my eyes on my plate. Just casual enough.

There was a pause. Tiny. Maybe a flinch in her smile. Or maybe I imagined it. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“Oh? Where?” she asked. Too evenly.

“At his place, actually. Dropped by near his office.”

She nodded, went back to eating. Like it meant nothing.

But the silence between the words? Loud as a siren.

Later That Night:

She was asleep beside me, Me? I was wide awake. 

I was scrolling on reddit ,on subreddit of infedility


I had posted my situation hoping to find a solution 

“Wife might have cheated at a recent party. Her ex was there. There’s a rumor they slipped away together. I haven’t confronted her. Don’t know what to believe. She says she loves me, acts normal. But I can’t stop thinking about it. Every little thing she does feels fake now. What should I do?”

I hit post. My heart was hammering, like I’d done something wrong.

The replies came in faster than I expected.

> “Bro, trust your gut. Women lie better than men. Get her phone. Check her chats. They always talk.”
> “Get spyware. She won’t know. Record everything.”
> “Don’t accuse without proof. Talk to her. You’ll regret not knowing the truth.”
> “File for divorce "
> “if she claims abuse, she can fuck you in court. many such cases man"
> “If you don’t have kids, you’re lucky. If you do, brace for a custody battle.”



And I just lay there.


That night, I barely slept.

Morning passed like a fog.

Emails, spreadsheets, meetings… none of it landed. My head was replaying Joss’s words. That image—her bent over, red saree rucked up, moaning for another man—haunted me like a ghost behind my eyes.

Should I ask her?

But what if she lies?

Worse—what if she tells the truth?

And if it’s only a rumor… would asking her destroy the very trust our marriage was hanging on?

I was still wrestling with it when I pulled into the driveway.

Noor’s Safari was already there


Inside, the girls were in the kitchen, laughing over some reel. Raj was half-slouched on the sofa, scrolling through something on his phone.

I gave a dry smile, forced greetings, and poured myself water.



Brunch wasmostly the girls talking.

I was Trying to act normal. Like I wasn’t dying inside.

And then she dropped it.

Noor said casually, “Oh, by the way… Ashish was looking for an apartment around here. So I gave him the number of your building’s builder. One of the flats is vacant, right?”

My fork paused mid-air.

Sheeza was across from me. I didn’t look at her right away. I didn’t need to. I felt her eyes on me instantly.

I looked up slowly. Her expression was unreadable. Calm. But something flashed through her eyes. A flicker of alertness. Or was it guilt? Maybe I was just imagining it. God, I hoped I was imagining it.

Noor smirked.“You remember Ashish, right? Met him at the party? He was our old college friend… close friend.”



She added,“His job needs him to travel a lot, up and down between cities. So I told him this area’s perfect. Familiar. Comfortable.”


It felt like code. Like some hidden message just for Sheeza. She still hadn’t said a word.

She was eating slowly, calmly, her dupatta slipping off one shoulder. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes occasionally flicking to me—watching me.

Was she checking if I suspected something?

My mind was a storm of noise. Images of the rumor I’d heard. Her moaning. The red saree. That bastard Ashish behind her.

I gripped my cup tighter, afraid my hands might shake.

I didn’t say anything. What could I say?

That I wanted to scream?


I just smiled again, said nothing.

And died a little more insie.


That night, lying beside her in bed, I finally spoke.

“Why all of a sudden is Ashish moving into our building?”

Sheeza didn’t look surprised. She adjusted her pillow, pulled the sheet up over her chest.

“I think it’s for his job. Like Noor said. He has to travel a lot for work.”

She turned to face me, her eyes scanning my face.

“Honey… do you have a problem with it?”

I wanted to scream Yes. I wanted to tell her about the images that wouldn’t leave my head—of her in a red saree, bent over, moaning, his hands gripping her fair waist ,as he fucks her.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t look weak. Insecure. Jealous.

“No, just…” I started, searching for words.

She cut me off .

“Jaan, is it because he was my ex?”she asked 


“That was long ago. It’s the past. You have nothing to worry about. Are you worried?”

I couldn’t meet her eyes.

I swallowed and shook my head.

“No. Just seems strange, that’s all.”

She leaned in and kissed my cheek, a soft, deliberate kiss.

“Then stop overthinking everything, okay?” she whispered, before rolling to her side and pulling the blanket up to her chin.

And just like that, she drifted off.

I stared at the ceiling.

Her words echoed in my head—You have nothing to worry about.

So why did it feel like everything was slipping through my fingers?

Why did I feel like a fool?

Like the man sleeping beside a woman who had already given herself to another.

And now… he might be living just two floors above us.



A random Redditor had replied to my post late at night, the words burned into my mind:

"He’ll come when you’re out. That’s how it always happens. In your own home. Your own bed."

I couldn’t shake the image. Sheeza bent over our bed, whispering things she never said to me. Moaning for him. Ashish.

That night, I barely slept. My chest felt tight, my head buzzing with thoughts I couldn’t kill.

By morning, a decision had taken root in me.

I needed proof.

I searched online, reviewed hidden cam setups. But I couldn’t buy it that day. Or the next. Too much work. Too many excuses.

Day four, I came home early, pretending I had a headache. While Sheeza made tea, I quietly installed the small, pinhole cam above our dresser, its lens pointed toward the bed. Covered in a fake smoke detector shell. Nothing too obvious. She wouldn't notice.

That night, I lay beside her like everything was normal, her body warm against mine, her breath soft and steady.

And I hated how much I still loved her.



Next morning.

I stepped out into the hallway, the elevator door opening just as I reached for it.

He stepped out.

Ashish.

Tall. Built like a gym ad. Dark bronze skin. Hair slick. Confident. Casual.

“Hey Ali!” he smiled like we were old friends. “Good to see you, man. I moved in two days back. Top floor. Ran into Sheeza already.”

Two days back.

Two days back.

My ears rang.

I managed a smile. Nodded. Said something polite—I don’t even remember what.

All I could think was—

Why didn’t she tell me?

She told me everything. Everything meaningless. W
hat she cooked, what Noor said, what show she was watching.

But not this.

Not that he had moved in.

Not that he had already seen her.

Had he already been in our home?

In our bedroom?

Inside her?