Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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“He’s only human,” Priya whispered to herself in the darkness, her words soft yet full of meaning. “He’s not a saint. He’s not a god. He’s a man with weaknesses, with desires. I can’t blame him for that.”
 
Her heart fluttered uneasily at the thought. Ravi had been through so much. She could see the guilt in his eyes, the sorrow in the way he had apologized over and over, as though trying to undo the damage he had caused. It had unsettled her, yes, but it had also reassured her. The remorse in him wasn’t feigned. She could tell.
 
“Maybe... maybe he just fell for it. Maybe I should forgive him.”
 
But even as the words left her mind, she felt a flutter of discomfort. What was this? Why was she still trying to justify his actions when she had every right to be angry with him?
 
She shifted again, her body restless with the conflict. Amit, her husband, the man she had vowed to love and cherish, he was still lying beside her, sound asleep, unaware of the battle raging within her. He was so kind, so affectionate toward her. A husband who, despite everything, had treated her with nothing but love.
 
“Why am I still thinking about him?” The question seemed to echo in her mind, relentless, heavy with guilt. “Why does he still matter to me so much?”
 
She closed her eyes, willing the answer to come, but nothing came except more confusion. The thought made her heart soften, and she hated herself for it. “I’m weak,” she told herself. “I’m too weak to let go. To forget what he meant to me.”
 
Her fingers brushed over the smooth fabric of the blanket again, and the warmth of the moment earlier that day—the way Ravi had touched her, his hands on her skin, so gentle, so cautious—still lingered there. It wasn’t an accident.
 
“I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve told him to stop,” she thought, but even then, a small voice inside her whispered, “But you didn’t. You wanted him to stay. You didn’t want to stop him. And that... scares you.”
 
She squeezed her eyes shut again, unable to rid herself of the unease spreading inside her. There was a deep, unspoken understanding between them. She had felt it. The tenderness. His touch, though intimate, had been nothing like the forceful, uninvited advances of the past. He had treated her with the utmost respect, his actions not driven by any selfish desire but by a genuine wish to make her feel cared for.

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