Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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The bright wash of morning light poured into the hallway, and there she was. Priya Didi stood beside Amit, travel-worn yet breathtaking, her presence so vivid it made the quiet apartment behind him feel less hollow. A faint sheen of tiredness clung to her, the kind that comes from long hours of travel and restless waiting, yet it did little to dull her radiance.

 
Her hair, slightly tousled from the journey, framed her face in soft waves, a few loose strands catching the sunlight like fine threads of gold. The faint traces of fatigue under her eyes only seemed to make her beauty more real, more human, like the world had tried to tire her, but couldn’t dim her light.

She wore a simple cream kurta and faded jeans, nothing extravagant, yet on her it looked effortlessly elegant. A dupatta was dbangd loosely around her neck, one edge fluttering slightly in the corridor breeze. The soft scent of her perfume, jasmine and something faintly earthy, like rain-soaked wood, reached Ravi even before she spoke. Her lips curved into a small, weary smile, one that carried both exhaustion and warmth, as if she was saying without words: We’re home. In that instant, Ravi felt something loosen in his chest. She was travel-tired, yes, but still impossibly beautiful, the kind of beauty that didn’t shout, but settled quietly into the spaces around her and made them come alive.
 
For a moment, Ravi just stood there, unable to speak. It felt surreal, after all that had happened, after the unbearable silence of the last two days, suddenly seeing familiar faces, hearing familiar voices, it was almost too much.
 
Amit stepped forward and pulled him into a quick, firm hug.
“Man, it feels good to be back,” he said, his voice muffled. “Mumbai missed us, huh?”
 
Ravi managed a faint smile, his throat tightening. “Yeah… yeah, it did.”
 
They stepped inside, the sound of their luggage wheels rolling across the floor breaking the flat’s long silence. The air suddenly felt different, not lighter, but alive again, as if their presence had stirred something dormant in the walls.
 
Amit dropped one of the bags near the couch and stretched his arms. “Feels strange to be back here,” he said, looking around. “Same place, same smell… I swear Mumbai air never changes.”
 
Ravi smiled faintly at her words, though his mind felt a thousand miles away.
 
Ravi’s gaze wandered, almost instinctively, toward the windowsill. There she was, Priya Didi, standing with her back to him, gazing out the window, the soft morning light catching the edges of her dark hair. For a fleeting moment, the sight of her felt like a balm, so warm, so alive, as though she herself was a living reminder of everything beautiful the world still had to offer.

Her hair, dark and glossy, cascaded over her shoulders like silk, catching the morning sunlight in soft waves. The light seemed to wrap around her, creating an almost ethereal glow. She stood so effortlessly graceful, the simple act of her standing there exuding a quiet strength that drew his attention. Even in the stillness, even in the heaviness of his grief, Ravi couldn’t help but notice how she seemed to fill the room with an undeniable warmth.

When she turned toward them, her smile greeted him like a gentle breeze. Priya’s eyes, dark and deep, met his with such a quiet intensity, he almost forgot to breathe. There was something about the way she looked at him, an unspoken understanding, a softness that seemed to cut through the haze of his pain. Her smile wasn’t just an expression; it was a presence, grounding, reassuring. In the midst of everything that had shattered inside him, her beauty and warmth felt like a touchstone, like a lifeline.
 
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he should tell them, about Vamsi, Neetu, and Sirisha, but the words wouldn’t come. Not yet. Not when they had just arrived.
 
He forced himself to sound normal. “You both must be exhausted. Long journey?”
 
Amit nodded, already loosening his collar. “Oh, completely. I just want a shower and some chai. Let me dump the bags in the room first.”
 
He stood by the door for a while longer, staring out into the corridor, toward the stairway that led up to Flat 401. It was quiet now, completely still. The reality hit him again, the contrast between what once was and what now remained.
 
He took a slow breath, then turned back inside. The smell of fresh air and luggage mixed with the faint fragrance of Priya’s perfume, familiar, grounding.
 
He went to his room, placed his phone on the table, and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face drawn. He didn’t know how much time he stood there. He splashed cold water on his face, letting it sting his skin, trying to wash away the fatigue and the hollow ache beneath it.
 
When he stepped out again, the sound of Amit laughing softly with Priya reached him from the living room. Their voices, ordinary, warm, alive, filled the air once more.
 
And for the first time since that terrible morning, Ravi felt something shift inside him, not relief, not yet healing, but a small reminder that life, no matter how fragile, always moves forward.
 
He took a deep breath, let the sound of their laughter linger in the background, and walked toward the living room, quietly grateful for the noise that finally broke his long, unbearable silence.
 

 
 

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