Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

Wednesday Morning continued with Priya Didi
 

The clinking of dishes quieted, leaving only the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of the morning breeze through the half-open window. Ravi remained seated at the table, hands folded loosely in his lap, eyes occasionally flicking toward Priya Didi as she stood by the sink, rinsing the plates.
 
Her posture was still rigid, shoulders squared, yet there was a grace in every motion, a rhythm he had come to notice over the years, an elegance that seemed to persist regardless of her mood.
 
Even as her brow furrowed faintly while scrubbing a stubborn pan, the sunlight caught the strands of her hair, highlighting rich dark undertones that shone like polished wood. Her saree, pale beige with that subtle golden trim, shifted as she moved, the pleats falling perfectly, hinting at her slender form without fanfare.
 
Ravi felt his chest tighten again. Even in silence, even in anger and disappointment, she carried a presence that could not be ignored.
 
(There was something transcendent about her that morning, the quiet dignity of movement, the light playing in her hair, the soft precision of her gestures. A beauty that demanded no attention yet held it completely.)
 
He stood slowly, almost involuntarily, and picked up a plate, offering it to her. “Here… let me help.”
 
Priya Didi’s hands froze mid-motion, and for a fraction of a second, he thought she might refuse. But instead, she inclined her head slightly, a single nod, not warm, not inviting, but not a rejection either. “If you can. Be careful.”
 
He stepped closer, careful to match her rhythm. As they worked together, the quiet between them was not uncomfortable, not exactly. It was heavy, yes, a weight of past actions, of loss, of the emotional chasm between them, but it was also filled with a strange, fragile human connection.
 
He caught glimpses of her face as she leaned forward to rinse a plate, the faint curve of her lips betraying nothing, but the slight crease near her eyes hinting at her restrained frustration. The pink flush on her cheeks remained, a subtle sign of both anger and the effort she was putting into maintaining composure.
 
Ravi moved silently, stacking the clean plates, fetching the small towel she used to dry them.
 
His hands were steady, but his mind raced. He couldn’t stop noticing her, the way the morning light softened her features, the way her fingers worked efficiently yet delicately, the faint scent of jasmine shampoo lingering in the air around her.

.