Misc. Erotica Lockdown: A Wife’s Sacrifice for Her Husband and Sons- By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

Chapter 3 – The Morning After


I walked back home before dawn.
The sky was still dark, the streets still empty, but the weight on my shoulders was heavier than ever. My saree clung to me not because of the chill in the air… but because of the shame, the guilt, and the silence I had brought back with me.
I turned the key slowly, not wanting to wake the boys. Inside, the house was still and asleep—just as I had left it. As if nothing had happened. As if the woman who had walked out last night hadn’t torn a piece of her soul and left it behind in someone else’s room.
Arun was still breathing—better now. The oxygen cylinder had arrived. The ambulance had already called. Mahesh had kept his word.
And I had kept mine.


I walked to the washroom. Locked the door. Turned on the tap. I didn’t even remove my saree. I just stood under the cold water, letting it soak me from head to toe.

The water washed away nothing.
No sin. No memory. No betrayal.
I sat down on the floor of the bathroom, hugging my knees to my chest, shivering.
But I didn’t cry.
Not yet.
The hospital called around 8 a.m. The ambulance arrived by 9. Arun was taken in. The boys stood by the gate, watching, confused but hopeful.
“Appa is going to be fine,” I told them.
They smiled. They believed me.
And for a moment, I allowed myself to believe it too.
That night, after putting the boys to bed, I stood in front of the mirror.
I didn’t recognize the woman staring back.
She looked… older. Not in age, but in soul. Her eyes were tired. Her lips had forgotten how to smile. Her body stood straight, but her heart had folded inwards like a paper boat in a storm.
I placed a hand on the mirror.
“You saved them,” I whispered. “You did what you had to do.”
But another voice—one deeper, one more real—whispered back:
“At what cost?”


Chapter 4: "Guilt Never Sleeps" 
I looked… older. Not in age, but in soul. My eyes were tired. My lips had forgotten how to smile. My body stood straight, but my heart had folded inwards like a paper boat in a storm.
I placed a hand on the mirror.
“You saved them,” I whispered. “You did what you had to do.”
But another voice—one deeper, one more real—whispered back:
“At what cost?”


Chapter 5 – The Secret That Lived Between Us
There is a silence that speaks louder than words—a space between two people where truth floats like dust in sunlight.
That space had grown between Arun and me.
He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did, but chose to ignore it, trusting me completely. And that trust... that unshaken, innocent trust… was what hurt the most.
Each time he smiled at me, I died a little inside.
Because I had saved his life…
But I had also buried a secret between us.
One Sunday morning, I was ironing his shirt when I heard him talking to the boys in the next room.
“Your Amma is a hero, you know,” he said gently.
“When I was in that hospital bed, I didn’t know if I’d make it. But every time I opened my eyes, I remembered her… and I fought harder to stay.”
My hands froze on the iron box. My eyes stung.
I switched off the plug and went into the kitchen, pretending to chop onions—but it wasn’t the onions that made my tears fall that day.
It was his love. His pride.
His belief in me.
I started writing in a notebook at night.
Not a diary. Not poetry. Just… truths. Words I couldn’t say out loud. Words I feared would shatter everything if ever spoken.
“I did not cheat.
I did not desire.
I only surrendered—to pain, to fear, to desperation.
I made a choice.
And it is killing me quietly.”
Some nights, I thought about telling him.
About sitting Arun down and saying it plainly:
“I did something terrible. But I did it for you. For us.”
And then I would picture his face changing. The love draining from his eyes. The silence that would follow.
Would he understand?
Would he forgive?
Or would I lose him forever?
One evening, while folding clothes, Arun stood behind me and gently wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed my shoulder lightly.
“You’re so quiet these days,” he murmured.
“Did the battle to save me take everything from you?”
I nodded. It was the truth… and yet not the whole of it.
He turned me to face him and cupped my cheeks.
“I owe you my life,” he whispered. “Whatever you went through… I’ll spend the rest of my life repaying it.”
I wanted to fall into his arms and cry. Tell him everything. Let the burden go.
But I didn’t.
Because sometimes, love is not about sharing pain.
Sometimes, it’s about protecting the other from it—forever.
That night, I tore the pages from the notebook and burned them in the kitchen sink.
The truth would live in me, not on paper.
The guilt. The sacrifice. The silence.
It would all stay with me, quietly folded into the corners of my soul—unspoken, unseen, but never forgotten.