Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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She didn’t answer. Her pace remained steady, and Ravi could feel the walls she was erecting between them. She didn’t need to say anything. He could see it in the set of her shoulders, the slight distance she kept. But still, there was something else, something he couldn’t name. It was in the way her hand, while holding the fabric of her saree, brushed lightly against the air, as if she were consciously holding herself back.
 
Ravi fell silent as they continued walking, his mind swirling with the weight of his guilt, but also with a nagging hope, hope that beneath the anger, there was still a part of her that wanted him to try.
 
They reached the café, a quiet spot nestled between two taller buildings. The door chimed softly as they entered, and the dim, golden light inside was a stark contrast to the harsh brightness of the afternoon sun. The air carried the faint scents of coffee, fresh bread, and something floral, perhaps jasmine, like the scent that always clung to her.
 
They were led to a small table by the window. Priya Didi sat down first, folding her saree neatly as she did so. Ravi sat across from her, the weight of the silence between them pressing down on him. His eyes were drawn to the small, absent movements of her fingers, the way she absentmindedly smoothed the folds of her saree. He noticed everything, every detail, every breath she took.
 
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Ravi watched her, his gaze softening as he took in the quiet elegance of her features, the curve of her neck, the arch of her eyebrows, the way the light seemed to enhance her beauty in ways that felt almost unreal.
 
“Didi,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t imagine how you must feel. But I… I’m sorry. For everything.”
 
She met his gaze then, her eyes filled with so many emotions he couldn’t read. For a split second, she didn’t seem angry, just tired, worn. But then her walls went up again, the coolness returning to her demeanor.
 
“You don’t need to apologize anymore, Ravi,” she said softly, the words carrying the weight of so much more than just the apology. “You can’t fix this.”
 
Ravi's chest tightened, but he nodded slowly, the bitter sting of truth settling in.
 
“I know,” he said, almost to himself. “But I’ll keep trying. I won’t stop. Not until… until you tell me I’ve done enough.”
 

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