Adultery My wife through the lens of CCTV

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 16 - April 15,16,17

I came home after the dinner that felt more like a punishment than sustenance. The house was shrouded in a heavy silence that seemed to press down on me, suffocating any thoughts of comfort or rest.


It was almost midnight, and the desktop beckoned from the corner of my eye, whispering of the horrors that might be unfolding even as I sat there, paralyzed by doubt and fear. I knew I should check for any new videos, but the thought of seeing Dhristi in that state of violation again was more than I could bear.

"Let me get some sleep," I murmured to myself, rubbing my eyes, "and check tomorrow."

But sleep was a fickle creature, eluding me as I lay there, my mind racing with images of Lakhan's debauchery. I tossed and turned, the specter of Dhristi's pain haunting every shadow of the room. The bed felt too warm, too suffocating, as if it were trying to swallow me whole.

At 5 AM, the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, casting a pallid glow over the room. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled over to the computer, my body aching with exhaustion and anger.

The moment the screen flickered to life, the videos  of Lakhan's depravity stared back at me, a silent reminder of the horrors that had unfolded in our marriage bed. I steeled myself and began scrolling through the files, my heart racing with a mix of dread and hope that today would be different.

April 16th, a Saturday, and I must be at home. The file I had chosen was smaller than the others, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't hold the same vile content.

The digital feed flickered to life, and there she was—my Dhristi, my love, lying in our marital bed, her eyes fluttering open. Her movements were sluggish, as if the weight of the world had settled upon her slender shoulders. She stretched, her arms reaching up to the heavens in a silent plea for relief.

How clueless had I been? I had watched her, night after night, going through the motions of living—cooking, cleaning, smiling—while she was dying on the inside. I had held her in my arms, and made love to her, all the while oblivious to the storm of pain and anger that raged within her soul.

As the feed played out before me, showing the mundane activities of a lazy weekend, my heart grew heavier with every passing minute. The stark contrast between the hell she had suffered and the serene façade she presented to the world was almost too much to bear.

On April 17th, the digital feed showed Dhristi waking up at 5:30 AM as usual.she went about her morning routine. The sight of her in the kitchen, her movements precise and efficient as she chopped vegetables for breakfast, was almost too much to bear.
. Her eyes were vacant, her smile forced, as she served me the food she had prepared. We ate in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and unshed tears.

I left for the office feeling like a coward without knowing what she was going through.

As every other day, Dhristi completed all her morning tasks with a stoicism that belied the tumultuous emotions roiling within her.She sank into the bed, her body weary from the period  and the emotional turmoil of the past days.

When she woke up around 1 pm, there was a palpable tension in the air that seemed to thicken around her. She dragged herself to the couch, her eyes glued to the clock on the wall, ticking away the moments with a cruel indifference to her fear.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds with a mocking regularity, each one a tiny dagger sinking deeper into her soul. Her eyes remained glued to the screen, watching the feed as if it were a live feed from a horror show, one she couldn't tear herself away from.

Dhristi's eyes darted to the clock again, and she felt the first stirrings of panic. Lakhan was never late, and she knew that his digital visits were as punctual as a metronome. Her heart began to race, the beat echoing in her ears like a war drum signaling the impending doom. She clenched her fists, the nails biting into the tender flesh of her palms.

As the minutes stretched into an eternity, she found herself torn between hope and dread. Would he come today? Would she have to endure another round of his violation? The anticipation was a knot in her stomach, twisting and tightening with every tick of the clock.

The clock finally  2 PM came and went without any sign of Lakhan's figure materializing in the room. Dhristi's shoulders sagged with relief, but there was a sadness in the way her eyes searched the space where he had so often loomed over her. Was she disappointed? Was she hoping for another confrontation to somehow prove something to herself or to him?

I fast-forwarded through the feed, watching the hours of our lives tick by in a blur. Her movements were jerky, mechanical as she went through the motions of the day—cooking, cleaning, and tending to the house. It was a dance of despair, each step a silent cry for help that no one could hear.

As it was 10 pm,Dhristi finally made her way to bed. She lay down, her eyes searching the darkness above her, the digital feed capturing the anguish etched into every line of her face.

I watched her, my heart heavy with the weight of her unspoken pain. Was she relieved that Lakhan hadn't come today? Or was she plagued by the emptiness his absence had left behind? Dhristi lay on her side, one hand curled into a fist under her pillow, the other resting limp on the bed. Her breathing was even, but the tension in her body told a different story.