Adultery My wife through the lens of CCTV

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 12 : April 14th

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 with a jolt. The alarm clock's shrill beep pierced the thick silence of the room, pulling her out of the nightmare she had been reliving all night.

Her heart raced as she looked over at Manav, who was sprawled out beside her, oblivious to the storm raging in her soul. She could see his chest rise and fall in the rhythmic pattern of sleep, the same chest that had once been her fortress now seemed like a prison wall. Carefully, she slid out of bed, her muscles aching with the effort not to disturb him.

Her eyes fell on the crimson stain on the bedsheet, a silent witness to her pain. With trembling hands, she gathered the fabric, her fingertips grazing the sticky residue that marked the site of her violation. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her, the smell of Lakhan's lust a noxious perfume that clung to her skin.

Dhristi clutched the sheet tightly, her knuckles white with the effort not to scream. She knew she had to cleanse herself of his touch, but the very thought of moving felt like a betrayal to the part of her that had been irrevocably changed. With a deep, shuddering breath, she managed to stand, her legs wobbling beneath her.

Her bare feet made no sound on the cold marble floor as she walked to the en suite bathroom. The digital recording captured her every step, a silent witness to her pain. She paused at the door, her hand hovering over the handle, as if she could somehow hold back the deluge of memories that waited for her on the other side.

The digital Dhristi that I watched was a ghost of the woman I knew—wraithlike and haunted. She moved with the grace of a dancer, but there was a heaviness to her steps that spoke of a burden no one should bear.

I saw myself lying in bed, lost in a deep, oblivious slumber. How many times had I done that very thing—slept peacefully while she suffered in silence? The digital recording was a cold, hard slap to the face, a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between us.

Dhristi emerged from the bathroom, a soft towel wrapped around her bruised body. The camera didn't lie. The bruises were faint but unmistakable, a map of Lakhan's depravity etched onto her skin. She moved with a ghostly grace, as if each step was a silent scream. My heart clenched as she slid the soft fabric of the towel down her body, revealing the dark purple marks that marred her once pristine flesh.

Her eyes searched the mirror, the digital reflection showing a woman who had been to hell and back. She was a warrior, a survivor, but she looked so fragile, so broken. I wanted to reach through the screen and hold her, to tell her that I was here, that she wasn't alone. But all I could do was watch, a silent spectator to her daily ritual of pretending.

Dhristi pulled out a fresh saree from the wardrobe and She wrapped the fabric around herself like any other day.Her movements were mechanical, the very act of dressing herself felt like a mockery of the purity she had lost. The fabric clung to her bruised body, a cruel reminder of Lakhan's brutal embrace.

In the kitchen, she began to prepare breakfast with the same meticulous care she always had.  But today, it was tainted, a bitter reminder of the façade she was forced to maintain.

I woke up a bit late at around 8am, my mind still preoccupied with the looming audit at the office. Dhristi's movements around the house were as silent as the digital ghost that haunted my thoughts. She had always been a creature of habit, her morning routine as comforting as the first sip of hot tea. But today, she was a shadow, her steps as soft as the whispers of the early morning breeze.

I stumbled into the kitchen, half-asleep and half-dressed, and took my seat at the table.  She placed a plate of steaming parathas before me, her eyes avoiding mine. I didn't pay any attention as I hurriedly ate.

But now, watching the digital Dhristi, I could see the silent plea in her eyes. They searched for me, for a spark of understanding, a flicker of the connection we had once shared. Her gaze was a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that Lakhan's cruel hands had created. But my real-world self had been too lost in his own troubles to notice see the storm brewing in her soul.

As I sat there, the digital feed a stark reminder of my neglect, I felt a tear slip down my cheek. It was a silent apology for my failure as a husband, for not being there when she needed me the most. She then got dejected as I left home without even telling goodbye

As I watched her retreat to the bedroom, my mind conjured up images of the digital Dhristi, her eyes filled with a sadness so deep it could drown a man. She had hoped, maybe even prayed, that I would notice the shift in her demeanor, that I would see the pain hidden beneath her forced smile. But I had been too wrapped up in my own world to notice the cracks in hers.

The digital feed had stopped, but her suffering played on in an endless loop in my mind. She had gone outside, into the unforgiving sunlight, trying to find a semblance of normalcy in the mundane tasks that made up her day. The sight of her moving around the house, going through the motions of her daily routine, was a haunting reminder of the facade she wore so convincingly.

The digital clock on the screen ticked away the hours, each second a silent scream of the truth I had ignored for so long. At 12:35 pm, the digital Dhristi had just finished preparing a simple lunch for herself—a plate of rice and a bowl of dal. She hadn't eaten much that morning, and I had hoped she would find some solace in the warmth of a home-cooked meal. But as she approached the couch, the look on her face was one of resignation rather than hunger.

The sudden sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, shattering the brittle silence like a gunshot. The digital Dhristi froze, the spoonful of rice hovering just shy of her trembling lips. The tension in the room was palpable, a living, breathing entity that seemed to suck the air from the digital space.

Her eyes grew wide with fear, the color draining from her cheeks as she set the plate aside. It was as if she had been expecting this moment, had been dreading it with every fiber of her being. Yet she had no choice but to answer it.

The digital Dhristi took a shaky breath and made her way to the door, her bare feet whispering against the cold tiles. She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorknob like it was the trigger to a bomb. And in a way, it was.

As she turned the knob, the hinges protested with a mournful squeak, the sound echoing through the empty digital hallway. She pulled the door open, and there he was—Lakhan Chand, the man who had shattered her world with his vile touch.

The digital recording showed Lakhan's leer, a twisted grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze raked over her like a predator eyeing its prey, and I felt a fresh wave of rage wash over me. Why is he here?