Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

.

 
He picked up his phone, the screen lighting his face in pale blue. No new messages. The silence of the screen felt heavier than sound.
 
His thumb hovered over Neetu’s name for a long time, but he didn’t press it. What was the point now?
 
He placed the phone back gently, staring at it as if it held the answer to something he couldn’t name.
 
Outside, the evening deepened into night. The faint sounds of the city filtered in, distant horns, the low hum of traffic, the bark of a stray dog. But inside 205, time had stopped. The shadows grew longer, darker, until the whole room was swallowed by night.
 
He didn’t switch on the lights. He couldn’t. The darkness felt honest, it matched what was inside him.
 
He leaned back against the couch, his head resting on the edge, eyes half-closed. For a long time, he just sat there, breathing slowly, the silence pressing against him like a weight. 

He thought of the last meal they’d shared, the playful glances, the casual laughter, all of it replaying in his mind like a film stuck in loop.
 
At some point, tears began to slide down his cheeks silently. He didn’t even realize he was crying. There was no sound, just the steady trickle of grief he couldn’t hold back anymore.
 
He whispered their names into the darkness, barely audible, “Neetu... Sirisha... Vamsi...”, as if saying them aloud could bridge the distance between this world and whatever lay beyond.
 
But the silence remained.
 
He turned his gaze toward the ceiling. The same ceiling under which he had once heard their footsteps, their laughter, the faint music playing from upstairs. Tonight, it was all gone.

The flat above was dark. No lights, no movement. Just stillness, a stillness that seemed to echo through his bones.
 
Ravi sat there for hours, lost in the quiet, the darkness deepening around him. The night outside thickened, the faint hum of the city fading until even that disappeared.
 
He didn’t know when he fell asleep, perhaps he didn’t. His head rested against the back of the couch, his eyes open to the dark. The tears had dried on his face, leaving faint streaks.
 
In his half-dreaming mind, he could still hear Neetu’s soft laughter, Sirisha’s cheerful voice, Vamsi calling out his name from across the corridor. For a fleeting moment, it felt real, so real that he almost smiled.
 
Then the cold air brushed against his skin, and the illusion broke.
 
And in that quiet, empty room, with the night pressing against the windows, Ravi finally understood what loss truly meant, not the absence of people, but the silence they leave behind.
 

-- oOo --

.