Adultery My wife through the lens of CCTV

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 11 - Recollections of April 13

The digital feed went silent as the house embraced the cloak of night, the only light coming from the moon that filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across her bruised and violated body. My mind was a tumult of emotions—fury, despair, and a twisted fascination that I couldn't quite shake off.


Dhristi, my beautiful, unblemished Dhristi, had been defiled by that monster Lakhan Chand. And the most harrowing part was that she had kept it all bottled up, her suffering a secret that only the cold, unfeeling eyes of the surveillance camera had witnessed.

The digital recording had ended hours ago, but the scene played on a continuous loop in my mind. The sounds of her pleas and the sight of her body, contorted in a mix of pain and involuntary pleasure, haunted me like a feverish nightmare.

More than what Lakhan did, I was horrified by the way she had lain there on the bed, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity. It was a silent scream that echoed through the digital void, a testament to the depth of her trauma. I could only imagine the numbness that had overtaken her, the way her soul had retreated into the farthest recesses of her being to escape the unbearable reality.

The digital clock on the screen ticked away the minutes, each one a painful reminder of her ongoing suffering. Dhristi was lost in a world of pain, a world where the very fabric of her existence had been torn asunder by Lakhan's cruel hands. I felt like I was watching a horror movie, but this was no fictional tale. This was the brutal reality of what my wife had endured.

The silence of the room was suffocating, the only sounds coming from the low whir of the computer fan and the occasional ding of an incoming email. It was a stark contrast to the cacophony of emotions that were raging inside me.

I sat there contemplating what to do next. Lakhan had not only stolen Dhristi's innocence, but he had also invaded the sanctity of our marriage. The rage that had been simmering within me began to boil over, and I knew that I couldn't just let this go. I had to act, to do something that would somehow right this unspeakable wrong.

But what could I do? The thought of taking this recording to the security officer made my stomach churn. The humiliation, the questions, the doubt that might be cast upon Dhristi—it was a nightmare scenario that I couldn't bear to think about. Yet, I knew that Lakhan couldn't be allowed to roam free, preying on other innocent women like he had done to her.

My mind raced with a tumult of emotions—betrayal, anger, a strange and unwelcome fascination with the power Lakhan wielded over her body. And amidst it all, a niggling doubt: was it right for me to watch this? To take this private, stolen moment without her consent?

Yet, Dhristi had hidden this from me for so long. Her silence was a scream louder than the cries she had made that day, echoing through the digital corridors of our home. I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of entitlement—if she couldn't tell me, then who could I tell? Who else would understand the depth of my pain, the rage that boiled in my veins?

It was around 8 pm when the emptiness in my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten dinner. But the thought of food turned my stomach. How could I indulge in such a mundane act when Dhristi was going through hell? I picked up my phone, my thumb hovering over her contact. I needed to hear her voice, to assure myself she was okay, or at least pretending to be. But as the phone rang out, unanswered, the silence grew heavier, a mournful toll that resonated with the unspoken truth.

The SMS she had sent me earlier  played on repeat in my mind: "Please don't call me. I need some space." It was a cold, curt message, a stark departure from her usual warm and affectionate texts. Yet, the coldness was a comfort, a shield from the molten lava of doubt that threatened to engulf me.

It had been a week since I had last seen her smile, a week of forced cheerfulness and feigned interest in my mundane office anecdotes. The digital feed had revealed so much, yet it had answered none of my questions. Why had she not told me? Was she ashamed? Did she think I couldn't handle the truth? Or was she protecting me, keeping the monster that was Lakhan Chand at bay from our marriage?

I knew I had to confront her, to tear down the walls she had so meticulously built around her heart. But the words remained lodged in my throat, a tangled mess of anger and fear. I feared losing her, feared that she would see me as weak, unable to protect her from the very beast I had brought into our lives.

Just when I was about to think of my next move, the cursor hovered over the file dated April 18th. It was a Friday, a day that had been like any other, or so I thought. The file was unusually large, piquing my curiosity and dread in equal measure. A part of me didn't want to know, didn't want to witness the horror that had become our new normal. But the need for truth was stronger, a ravenous beast that demanded to be sated.

With a trembling hand, I clicked on the next file, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn't contain anything worse than what I had already seen. But deep down, I knew it would.

The timestamp showed 5:55am which was activated with Dhristi waking up