Misc. Erotica The Mechanic's Trap- By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

“When He Shared His Guilt”

Muthu’s eyes were heavy with something I hadn’t seen before — a weight that settled deep in his chest.
He took my hands in his, his voice low and trembling.
“Sudha, I feel like I’ve done wrong by coming into your life,” he said, the pain in his words cutting through the quiet room.
“I never wanted to be the one to take you away from Ram. You deserve peace… not chaos.”
I looked at him, really looked at him — the man who had become a secret part of my heart.
His honesty made me ache, but it also made me feel closer to him than ever.
“Muthu,” I whispered, squeezing his hands gently, “I understand. You never asked for this. None of us did.”
He swallowed hard, eyes searching mine.
“I only wanted to be there for you… to remind you that you’re not alone.”
And that was the truth.
In this tangled web of guilt and longing, what we shared was more than desire — it was a fragile hope for connection when the world felt uncertain.
I nodded slowly, a soft tear tracing down my cheek.
“Whatever happens, I want you to know… I’m grateful. For you, for this moment.”
He smiled then, a flicker of peace breaking through the storm.
“Me too, Sudha. Me too.”
“A Quiet Promise in the Storm”
We sat close, the silence between us no longer heavy but soft, filled with unspoken truths and gentle acceptance.
Muthu’s hand remained in mine, a steady anchor in the shifting tides of our lives.
“We can’t change the past,” I said softly, “or the people in our lives. But we can decide how to carry what we have — carefully, honestly.”
He nodded, eyes reflecting the quiet strength I felt inside.
“Maybe… maybe it’s about cherishing what we share without needing to define it or rush it.”
The idea settled over me like a warm embrace.
A love not bound by expectation, but by respect and tenderness.
I smiled, feeling a lightness I hadn’t known in weeks.
“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together — no guilt, no regrets.”
Muthu leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
“A quiet promise,” he whispered, “in the middle of the storm.”
And in that moment, amid the uncertainty, we found something unbreakable — a connection that neither time nor circumstance could erase.
“The Shadow of Fear and Farewell”
Muthu’s eyes darkened with a weight I hadn’t fully grasped before.
He pulled me close, voice low but fierce.
“If Ram ever finds out about us… he wouldn’t hesitate,” he said, his words slicing through the quiet room.
“He’d destroy everything — you, me, this fragile thread we’ve woven.”
My heart clenched, fear mingling with the ache inside me.
I knew Ram’s temper, his pride. The danger was real — sharper than any blade.
Muthu’s hands trembled slightly as he continued, “That’s why I was going to Dubai. To start over. Far away. So I wouldn’t be the one to break your family apart.”
The truth settled heavy between us — a sacrifice I hadn’t expected, a choice made to protect me.
I looked up at him, tears threatening to spill.
“I understand, Muthu. More than you know.”
He kissed my forehead gently, as if saying goodbye without words.
“We have to be careful, Sudha. For your sake. For theirs.”
And in that moment, the passion and longing were wrapped in a quiet sorrow — two souls bound by love, yet forced to walk different paths.
Muthu was going to Dubai, so that he won’t ruin my Family.


A Visit to the Temple

The temple bells were already ringing when I arrived.
It was early morning — the sky was still pale, and dew clung to the hibiscus flowers in the thulasi pot. The streets were just beginning to wake. Milk vendors cycled past, flower sellers arranged garlands, and somewhere, a conch sounded.
I had wrapped myself in a simple cotton saree. No makeup. No jewelry. Just silence in my breath and heaviness in my chest.
This morning, I wasn’t Sudha, the wife, or Sudha, the woman haunted by a kiss.
I was just a soul looking for peace.


The moment I stepped past the gopuram, something shifted in me.
The stone under my feet was cool. The air was thick with incense. I folded my hands, eyes closed, and began to walk slowly toward the sanctum — past the lamps, the oil stains on the floor, the fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine mixing like memories I couldn’t untangle.
I didn’t pray with words.
I didn’t know how to.
I only whispered inside:
“Please... help me forget.”


But the temple had other plans.
As I lit the diya and placed it before the deity, I caught sight of something that made me pause.
A white shirt.
A man near the edge of the crowd. Standing still, hands folded, facing the idol.
From behind — it could have been him.
My heart leapt.
I took a step forward, but just as quickly — the man turned, and it wasn’t Muthu.
Of course it wasn’t.
But the flame inside me — the one I thought I’d smothered with tears and silence — reignited.