Adultery My wife through the lens of CCTV

[tharkibudda]

Chapter 21 : April 20th - The Rest day

The silence in the room was a living entity, a thick, suffocating presence that seemed to swallow the very air she breathed. Her thoughts raced, a cacophony of doubt and confusion. Why wasn't she fighting him anymore? Why did her body respond so eagerly to his touch, even when her mind screamed for it to stop?


I was disgusted and then closed the video, my hand shaking with a mix of anger and disbelief. The date on the next file was April 20th. It was small, just a fraction of the size of the previous ones. It had to be innocuous, right? It had to be. I clicked on it, bracing myself for whatever Lakhan had recorded. The video opened with the familiar digital static that seemed to be the backdrop of our lives now. The scene was the same, the living room of our home, but the time was different. The curtains were drawn, the room cast in a dim, eerie light.

Dhristi sat on the couch, her posture tense and her eyes darting around the room. She was dressed in a simple yellow salwar kameez, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. She had finished her work early.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, each one a silent scream in the stillness of the night. The digital glow of the numbers shifted from 1:00 to 1:30 PM, but there was no sign of Lakhan. She had been waiting for him, her body primed and ready for whatever twisted pleasure he had in store for her tonight. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, she began to realize that he wasn't coming.

Dhristi's eyes searched the room, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. Was it disappointment? Relief? Or perhaps a strange mix of both, a toxic cocktail of emotions that had become a part of her very essence in this digital hell. Her chest rose and fell with the heavy burden of her breaths, each inhale a silent prayer for strength, each exhale a sigh of...what? Relief? Or was it something darker?

Her hand, shaking slightly, reached for the remote. She turned on the TV, the flickering screen casting an eerie glow over the room. The sound was muted, a silent backdrop to the tumultuous thoughts that plagued her mind.

I moved the cursor the time when I arrived, The evening had been like any other, a mirage of normalcy in a world gone mad. Dhristi had greeted me with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, serving me a dinner she had prepared with trembling hands. We had eaten in silence, the weight of her secret pressing down on us like a heavy shroud.

The digital clock ticked away the hours, each second a silent witness to the lie they were living. I watched as Dhristi sat beside me on the couch, her hand resting tentatively on my knee. It was a gesture that had once been a declaration of love, but now it felt like a lie, a Band-Aid over a festering wound.

I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. It was as if she was playing a part in a twisted play, a tragic heroine whose soul had been ravaged by an unseen monster. And here I was, the clueless hero, oblivious to the horrors that unfolded when I was away to office and Lakhan visited.

Dhristi's mood swings had become more pronounced in the past few months, and I had attributed it to the stress of adapting to the new city, to the loneliness of a housewife's life. But now, as I watched her, I understood. The days that Lakhan didn't come were the days she was fighting her own demons, reliving the traumas he had forced upon her, trying to reconcile the Dhristi I knew with the one who lay on that couch, trembling with fear and desire.

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer, and I found myself unable to look away from the screen. She was a prisoner in her own mind, and the house had become her cell. The very walls that were supposed to protect her were now a silent witness to her suffering, each room holding a dark secret that she tried so desperately to keep from me.