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

[novelistcasanova]

Chapter 6 – The Strength in Silence
A month passed.
Life began to resemble its old rhythm again. The boys were back to college. Arun, now stronger, resumed online classes, once again becoming “Master Arun” to a hundred eager minds.
And I, too, slipped into my old role—the quiet keeper of the home, the invisible pillar that held the family upright.
But something within me had changed.
Not broken.
Not destroyed.
Just... transformed.
In the mirror, I looked the same: hair neatly tied, bindi in place, saree well-dbangd.
But beneath that familiar appearance was a woman who had walked through fire—and survived. A woman who had paid a price so high, even her own heart trembled to remember it.
And yet, she was standing.
There were moments when the silence pressed too close. Moments when I would stare at Arun, laugh at something he said—and wonder how I was even able to smile.
But there was strength in silence, I learned. Not weakness.
Strength in choosing not to destroy someone else’s world with your truth.
Strength in bearing guilt like a crown only you could see.
Strength in waking up each day, making breakfast, holding your son’s hand, and saying—
“Yes, life must go on.”
My friend Mala visited one afternoon. She brought fruits and sweets and sat with me on the veranda.
She looked at me long and hard, then whispered, “Did you… do it?”
I didn’t answer.
She held my hand gently.
“I would’ve done the same,” she said softly. “You saved your family.”
I looked into her eyes and saw no judgment—only understanding. Only pain. Only sisterhood.
That day, I learned something else: sometimes, silence does not need to be filled. It only needs to be shared.
One rainy evening, as thunder rolled over Bangalore’s skies, Arun lit a lamp and placed it at the pooja shelf. He folded his hands in prayer.
I stood beside him.
We were two people who had both fought death—he from the inside, me from the outside. Both of us scarred. Both of us holding on to love.
And in that shared moment of silence, I felt a sliver of peace.
The world may never know my truth.
But I do.
And somehow, that’s enough.

[b]Chapter 7 – When the Past Knocks Again
[/b]
It had been almost six months.

Life had quietly settled into a new rhythm. The boys were growing fast—college, tuitions, mischief. Arun had become even more of a family man after recovering, more loving than ever. I had begun to breathe again, move on… at least on the surface.

But the past has a way of knocking when you least expect it.

And sometimes, it doesn’t knock.

It barges in.

It was a warm Tuesday morning.

I was buying vegetables at the corner market when I heard the unmistakable voice behind me.

“Sudha ma…”







I turned, and there he was.

Mahesh.
Ward Councillor Mahesh. In crisp white shirt and a confident smile. He had trimmed his beard and looked more polished, more powerful.
But to me, he still looked like the man who knew my silence.
Who had bargained with my pain.
Who held a part of my dignity like a trophy he thought he deserved.
I froze.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Didn’t expect to see me?”
He smiled, a cold curve of his lips. “You disappeared after the hospital. I thought we could talk. In private.”
I felt the world narrow around me—the noise of honking bikes, the smell of coriander, the weight of my yellow saree on my shoulder.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, turning to leave.
He chuckled.
“I kept my promise, Sudha. Your husband’s alive because of me. And I haven’t forgotten our… understanding.”
I stopped. My hands clenched around the vegetable bag.
He leaned in.
“You were special. I think we should meet again. Maybe for coffee this time? Or… the same arrangement?”
I spun around and met his gaze—this time, without fear.
“The woman who came to you that night… died the next morning.”
“I buried her. I won’t let you dig her out again.”
I walked away without another word.
My hands trembled, but my feet didn’t stop.
That night, I couldn’t eat. Arun noticed.
“Is everything okay, Sudha?” he asked.
I smiled faintly. “Just a headache.”
He pressed my forehead gently and whispered, “Then rest. You’ve done enough for all of us.”
If only he knew.
Later, when the house was asleep, I stood in the balcony and looked at the sky.
The wind was soft. The stars unbothered.
But I knew now what I had to do.
I had survived shame, grief, and guilt. I had earned my peace. I would not let Mahesh take it again.