Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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Sirisha hugged her arms tightly around herself, as if trying to disappear. Her eyes glistened, guilt pressing into every word.
 
Sirisha (shaking her head): “I… I didn’t mean… Bhayya, I swear I didn’t think it would… I never wanted Didi to think like this. She’ll hate me now. She’ll hate you too.”
 
Ravi looked at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her trembling. His voice softened, though it was heavy with despair.
 
Ravi: “It’s not your fault, Sirisha. I should’ve stopped. I should’ve… I should’ve known better…” He broke off, his hands curling into fists. “But now… I’ve lost her.”
 
The words hung between them like a death sentence. Sirisha’s lips trembled.
 
Ravi let out a bitter exhale, not directed at her, but at the cruel timing of it all. His fingers tightened around his phone, knuckles pale.
 
Ravi (hoarse): “She won’t even pick up now. She cut the call… like I was nothing to her.”
 
Sirisha looked at him then, really looked, and saw the weight in his eyes. The man who had just been teasing her minutes ago now looked hollow, shaken.
 
She stood slowly, moving toward the door. Her voice trembled, careful:
 
Sirisha: “Maybe I should go, Bhayya. I don’t want Didi to… misunderstand even more.”
 
Ravi finally looked up, his face pained. For a second, it seemed he might stop her, but the words never came.
 
Ravi (low): “Sirisha… this is not your fault.”
 
She gave a small, almost broken smile, then nodded.
 
Sirisha: “Still… I should leave. Goodnight, Bhayya.”
 
She lingered for a heartbeat, her voice shaking.
 
Sirisha: “Bhayya… if she never forgives you… I’ll never forgive myself either.”
 
The door closed softly behind her, leaving Ravi alone with the silence.
 
He sat there for a long moment, staring at nothing. Finally, he grabbed the phone again, thumb hovering over her name.
 
He typed…
“Priya Didi, please don’t misunderstand.”
Deleted it.
 
Typed again…
“Nothing happened. Please talk to me.”
Deleted.
 
Finally, his fingers stilled.
 
Message 1: “Priya Didi… please. Just give me one chance to explain.”
Message 2: “I can’t bear you being hurt like this.”
 
He called once. Twice. The third time, he didn’t even let it ring fully.
 
One last message:


Message 3: “It’s not what you think. Don’t shut me out.”
 
Those messages were delivered, but the only answer was silence.
 
He stayed there watching the blue ticks stubbornly refuse to appear.
 
Ravi leaned back into the couch, phone still in his hand. His eyes burned, his jaw clenched, but the deeper ache sat heavy in his chest. He replayed the call in his head, her voice sharp, hurt, doubting. That doubt cut more than her silence.
 
How could she believe that of me? After everything?
 
His mind clawed at excuses, explanations, ways to make her understand. But every thought circled back to the same place: she had already judged him.
 
He glanced at the door Sirisha had just walked out of. The room still held the trace of her perfume, but all he could feel was Priya’s absence. The flat felt emptier than ever, suffocating in its quiet.
 
He put the phone on the table, then pulled it back instantly, staring at her name again, as if somehow she would call. But the screen stayed blank.
 
A hollow laugh escaped him, short, bitter, broken. He pressed his palms against his eyes, his breathing uneven. The weight of the night pressed in on him, making the walls of flat 205 feel smaller, tighter.
 
And through it all, only one thought echoed, relentless:
She doesn’t believe me. She thinks I betrayed her.
 
The ceiling fan hummed on, indifferent, as Ravi sat there, waiting for a message that never came.
 

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