Adultery The Cheating Wife ?

[kk007007]

Sundari throttled her Scooty through the bustling morning traffic, weaving past auto-rickshaws and vegetable carts with the ease of someone who knew every pothole in the city. Srinu kept a safe distance.

The security officer station loomed ahead—a squat, yellow-washed building with peeling posters of wanted criminals and a faded tricolour flag fluttering lazily on the pole. Sundari parked in the reserved slot near the entrance, slung her bag over her shoulder, and marched inside with a nod to the saluting guard at the gate.

Srinu pulled over across the street, under the shade of a banyan tree, and watched until her khaki-clad figure disappeared through the doors. Only then did he kill the engine, unhooking his backpack from the bike's hook. The bag felt heavier now, loaded with the FIR copy, Ganga's diary, and Chacha's broken phone. He slung it over his shoulder, the strap digging into his skin, and crossed the road slowly, his steps measured to avoid drawing attention. As he approached, he caught glimpses through the open gates: other constables straightening up as Sundari passed, snapping sharp salutes. One even murmured a quick "Good morning, ma'am," with genuine respect in his voice. It was clear—she commanded authority here, not just fear, but admiration from her colleagues.

Just as Sundari vanished into the inner corridors, a small family shuffled up to the entrance—an old woman with a wrinkled face and a faded cotton sari, leaning on a wooden stick; her middle-aged daughter, eyes red from crying, clutching a frayed handbag; and a young granddaughter, barely ten, holding her grandmother's hand with wide, frightened eyes. They hurried inside, their steps urgent, and immediately surrounded Sundari in the reception area visible from the gate.

Srinu edged closer, peering from behind a parked jeep. The old woman clutched Sundari's arm, her voice breaking as she wailed about some stolen jewellery or a neighbour's threat—Srinu couldn't catch every word, but the despair was palpable, like a thick fog in the air. The daughter sobbed quietly, dabbing her eyes with her dupatta, while the granddaughter stared at the floor, twisting her small fingers. Sundari placed a gentle hand on the old woman's shoulder, her voice calm and reassuring.

Sundari (softly, with empathy): "Don't worry, amma. Sit down first. Tell me everything slowly. We'll sort this out."

She guided them to a nearby bench, signalling a peon to fetch water. The family nodded gratefully, the old woman's trembling hands clasping Sundari's like a lifeline. It was a scene of quiet compassion, the kind that made the station feel less like a fortress of fear and more like a place of refuge.

Srinu slipped inside the gate, his backpack slung low, but a burly guard at the entrance blocked his path with a raised hand.

Guard (gruffly, eyeing him up and down): "What do you want here? Can't just walk in like that."

Srinu (calmly, meeting his gaze): "I'm here to meet Constable Sundari. It's important—about a case."

The guard grunted, jotting something on a register.

Guard (nodding towards a bench): "Wait there. I'll inform her."

Srinu nodded and sat on the worn wooden bench in the waiting area, the backpack resting on his lap like a ticking bomb. Beside him sat the same family from moments ago—the old woman fanning herself with her pallu, the daughter whispering comforts, the granddaughter swinging her legs nervously.

Their murmurs floated to him, laced with relief.

Old Woman (sighing, with a faint smile): "That Sundari madam is like a goddess in khaki. So kind, so strong. Last time my neighbour troubled us, she sorted it in one day—no bribes, no nonsense."

Daughter (nodding eagerly, wiping her eyes): "Yes, amma. She's not like other security officer. Listens properly, helps the poor. God bless her family."

Granddaughter (softly, looking up): "She gave me a toffee last time. Said brave girls like me don't cry."

They shared a quiet laugh, the tension easing from their faces. Srinu listened, his confusion deepening. How could this be the same Sundari? The one praised like a saviour, helping families in distress?

Flashes from Ganga's diary hit him again: Sundari in the hospital ward, locking the door, lifting Ganga's gown with clinical detachment that turned predatory. "Spread your legs wider, victim. I need to check how they entered you—for the report." Fingers probing, questions whispered like threats. If she's so great, so respected... how could she do that to my wife?

Moments later, a peon called out.

Peon (waving): "You three—Sundari madam is ready. Go in."

The family rose, gathering their things, and disappeared into Sundari's room. Srinu waited, the bench hard against his back, his mind racing. After what felt like an eternity but was only ten minutes, they emerged—faces lit with smiles, the old woman clasping her hands in thanks.

Old Woman (loudly, beaming): "Thank you so much, madam! You've saved us again. What would we do without you?"

Daughter (teary but happy): "Yes, she'll file the complaint right away. God keep you safe always."

They left, chattering gratefully, leaving Srinu alone with his doubts.

Peon (calling out): "Srinu? Madam will see you now."

Srinu stood, backpack in hand, and entered the small, cluttered room. Sundari sat behind a desk piled with files, a fan whirring lazily overhead. She looked up with a professional smile.

Sundari (gesturing to the chair): "Come in. Please sit."

Srinu (nodding politely): "Thank you."

He sat opposite her, the backpack on his lap. Sundari leaned back, folding her arms.

Sundari (curiously): "How can I help you? You said it's about a case?"

Srinu (straightening, voice steady): "I'm Srinu. My wife is Ganga. You handled our case—the attack a few months ago."

Sundari furrowed her brow, tilting her head as if searching her memory.

Sundari (shaking her head slowly): "Srinu... Ganga... I'm sorry, it doesn't ring a bell right away. We handle so many cases. Refresh my memory?"

Srinu reached into his backpack and pulled out the FIR copy, sliding it across the desk.

Srinu (pointing): "This. The night my wife and I were attacked after the movie. You were the investigating officer. You even interrogated Ganga in the hospital while I was unconscious."

Sundari glanced at the paper, her eyes scanning quickly. Then recognition dawned, and her face brightened. She stood up abruptly, leaning over the desk with a warm smile, extending her hand.

Sundari (enthusiastically, shaking his hand firmly): "Ah, yes! Ganga's husband. How are you now? Fully recovered? I remember now—that was a tough one."

Srinu shook her hand, feeling the strength in her grip, and sat back as she did the same. She buzzed the peon for coffee.

Sundari (gesturing): "Have some coffee? It's fresh."

Srinu (shaking his head): "No, thank you."

She nodded, leaning forward.

Sundari (attentively): "So, how can I help?"

Srinu (leaning in, voice firm): "I need the truth. About my case."

Sundari (confused, tilting her head): "Truth? About what exactly?"

Srinu (frustrated, raising his voice slightly): "My case! The attack on me and Ganga."

Sundari (calmly, waving a hand): "Your case? What happened now? Did you register a new complaint with the writer?"

Srinu (shaking his head): "No need—it's already registered."

Sundari (frowning deeper): "Already registered? Mr. Srinu, I'm confused. Which case are you talking about?"

Srinu pushed the FIR copy closer.

Srinu (pointing emphatically): "This one. The attack. You investigated it. Now tell me the truth about what happened."

Sundari picked it up, her eyes narrowing as she read. She looked up, still puzzled.

Sundari (slowly): "What truth, Mr. Srinu? I don't understand. The case was closed months ago."

Srinu (countering sharply): "Exactly—why was it closed? Without catching all the culprits?"

Sundari (losing patience a bit, voice rising): "What do you mean all the culprits? The men who attacked you and your wife died in a gang fight before we could arrest them. So, obviously, the case closed. What more is there?"

Srinu (leaning forward, intense): "If all the culprits are dead, then why is Ganga still going to Ranigunj? Who is asking her to go there?"

Sundari's face turned suspicious, her eyes narrowing.

Sundari (carefully): "Why would she go to Ranigunj? More importantly, how do you know she's going there?"

Srinu (bluntly): "Because I followed her."

Sundari (suspiciously): "You followed her? To where?"

Srinu (continuing): "I followed her with a suspicious auto driver who took her to Ranigunj."

The moment "Ranigunj" left his lips, Sundari sat upright, her full attention locked on him like a hawk.

Srinu (pressing on): "If the case is closed like you said, why is Ganga still going to Ranigunj? More importantly, who is asking her to come there?"

Sundari leaned forward, placing both arms on the desk, staring at him keenly.

Sundari (probing): "Oh, I see. But why do you think I have the answers to your questions?"

Srinu met her gaze silently for a moment, then pulled Ganga's diary from his backpack, along with the slip bearing Sundari's phone number, and placed them beside the FIR.

Sundari (recognizing the slip immediately): "Where did you get this?"

Srinu (calmly): "I found it in Ganga's diary, where she wrote about you."

Sundari (surprised): "About me? What are you talking about?"

Srinu (quickly): "Yes, she wrote you were the one who interrogated her after the attack. She also wrote you were the first person she called when Javed showed up for the first time after they attacked us and fled. Most importantly, you're the investigating officer, so you must know what happened in those three weeks I was in the hospital—and why she's still going to Ranigunj."

Before finishing, Srinu slammed the diary shut with frustration.

Sundari took a deep breath.

Sundari (soothingly): "Mr. Srinu, calm down. There's nothing to get frustrated about. Nothing happened in those three weeks. Ganga going to Ranigunj could be a total coincidence that you misunderstood. And as for my investigation details, they're confidential—I can't reveal them to a civilian."

Srinu reached into his backpack again and pulled out Chacha's broken phone, placing it on the desk.

Srinu (pointing): "This is Chacha's phone—which you missed at the crime scene. Now tell me the truth, or I'll report this to your superiors and complain about your interrogation."

Sundari (laughing lightly): "Are you trying to blackmail me with a broken piece of evidence for a case that's already closed?"

Srinu stood up, starting to pack his bag.

Srinu (sternly): "I'm not talking about the phone. I'm talking about how you interrogated Ganga in the hospital. I have written proof from Ganga herself in this diary."

Sundari (waving him down): "There's no need to complain to my superiors."

She stood and walked around the desk towards him.

Sundari (defensively): "You've completely misunderstood my interrogation method with Ganga. I did not misbehave—it was just standard procedure. As an officer, I have to look at both the victim and the attacker through the same lens until proven guilty. In my experience, most of the time, the victim might be the actual culprit."

Srinu (with a stern face): "Let me decide who the culprit is. You just tell me the truth."

Sundari looked at him with a defeated expression, took a deep breath.

Sundari (reluctantly): "Okay, I'll tell you the truth. But first, you have to promise me you won't talk about this to anybody—not even Ganga."

Srinu nodded. Sundari hit the call bell on her desk. Moments later, another woman constable entered.

Sundari (introducing): "This is my assistant, Ruhi Sharma. Ruhi, escort Mr. Srinu to the evidence room. I'll join in a few minutes."

Ruhi (nodding politely): "Yes, ma'am."

She turned to Srinu.

Ruhi (gesturing): "Please follow me, sir."

They exited the room. Ruhi paused in the corridor.

Ruhi (pointing to a bench): "Mr. Srinu, can you wait here please? I have to get this evidence into our database."

Srinu handed over his backpack and sat on the bench as she disappeared into a side room marked "Records."

As he waited, low murmurs caught his ear from the corner. He turned to see two shirtless men—pickpocketers, by the look of their chained ankles—squatting on the floor in just boxers. Red welts from lathi blows striped their backs, but they showed no pain, instead wearing creepy grins as they stared at something. Srinu followed their gaze: Constable Ruhi, bent over a computer in the open records room, her khaki shirt hugging her curves.

Srinu wondered what they were smiling about. Then their whispers reached him, low and crude in the local tongue.

First Pickpocketer (grinning, murmuring): "Wah kya maal hai bhai. Ye security officer mein kya kar rahi, isko toh heroine hona tha." [Wow, what a hot piece, brother. What is she doing in security officer? She should be a heroine.]

Second Pickpocketer (nodding, chuckling softly): "Zara uske mamme tho deko, javani phut phut ke bahar aa rahi hai yeh!" [Look at those boobs—youth is bursting out!]

They both snickered.

First Pickpocketer (leaning closer): "Yeh budde log kitne kushnasib hai jo itni jawan kadak maal inke saath kaam kar rahi hai." [These old guys are so lucky that such a young, tight hot piece is working with them.]

Second Pickpocketer (grinning wider): "Yaar yeh bahut... yeh security officer budde apne aap ko kaise sambhal rahe hain... agar main hota toh ab tak station ke beech mein leta ke is randi ko chod dalta." [Bro, this much... these old security officer guys, how are they controlling themselves? If I was there, I would have laid this whore in the middle of the station and fucked her by now.]

First Pickpocketer (laughing under his breath): "Arey in phattu security officer badwon se kuch nahi hota, bas is ladki ko soch ke bathroom mein hilate rahte hain." [Nothing happens from these cowardly security officer bodies—they just think of this girl and jerk off in the bathroom.]

They burst into loud laughter, drawing the guard's attention. He swung his lathi hard across their shoulders.

Guard (barking): "Shut up, you dogs! Or I'll give you more to laugh about."

They winced but kept smirking. Srinu turned away, but the words lingered. He glanced at Ruhi again—her youthful face framed by a neat ponytail, slim figure in the fitted uniform, looking more like a fresh college graduate than a hardened constable. God, they were right; she seemed out of place here, too vibrant, too innocent for this den of complaints and criminals. Her shirt clung just enough to hint at the curves beneath, and for a fleeting moment, Srinu imagined her in a film song, dancing under rain, instead of logging evidence. But he shook it off—focus, he told himself. This wasn't the time for distractions.

Before he could dwell further, Ruhi returned, backpack in hand.

Ruhi (smiling professionally): "All done, sir. Please follow me to the evidence room."

Srinu followed Ruhi down a narrow corridor lined with locked cabinets and humming servers, the air cool and metallic from the air-conditioning. She pushed open a heavy steel door marked "Evidence Room – Authorized Personnel Only," and they stepped inside.

The room was nothing like the dusty lock-ups Srinu had imagined. It was a high-tech nerve centre: racks of advanced spy cameras with long lenses, tiny button cams, and drone-mounted ones; shelves of listening devices—bugs the size of shirt buttons, directional microphones, encrypted recorders; a full projection centre with a large white screen and multiple monitors glowing softly; banks of communication sets with headsets and satellite uplinks; and at the far end, a massive bank-style vault with biometric locks and thick steel doors for storing physical evidence.

Ruhi walked straight to a workstation near the vault, took Chacha’s broken phone from the backpack, and scanned its barcode into the system. She then handed the backpack—now containing only Ganga’s diary and the FIR copy—back to Srinu.

Ruhi (professionally polite): "This will be logged properly. Thank you for bringing it in."

She turned and disappeared behind the vault door to secure the phone.

Moments later, Sundari entered, closing the heavy door behind her with a soft thud. She stood in front of Srinu, arms folded, her expression serious.

Sundari (quietly, one last time): "Remember—no word about this meeting to anyone. Not even Ganga. Promise?"

Srinu nodded once, firmly. She acknowledged it with a small tilt of her head.

Sundari then turned to Ruhi, who had just returned.

Sundari: "Ruhi, turn off the lights."

The overhead fluorescents clicked off, leaving only the soft glow of the projector as Ruhi powered it up. A sharp image appeared on the large white screen: a sprawling, chaotic slum under a hazy sky—narrow lanes choked with people, tin roofs patched with blue tarpaulin, open drains, stray dogs, clotheslines heavy with washing.

Sundari (pointing with a laser pointer): "This is Ranigunj. Headquarters of the crime syndicate that runs most of the city’s underworld."

Ruhi clicked through slides: close-up shots of crowded alleys, children playing near overflowing gutters, women carrying water pots; then bird’s-eye drone views showing the dense maze of the settlement; wider satellite images marking zones in red. Srinu recognised several landmarks immediately—the same twisted lanes he had glimpsed that day following the suspicious auto-wala, the same cluster of blue-tarpaulin roofs he had seen when Ganga disappeared into the slum.

Sundari (voice steady, authoritative): "Ranigunj started as a small migrant settlement decades ago. As the city grew around it, skyscbangrs, malls, IT parks—everything developed. But Ranigunj stayed frozen in time. Mostly '. population, little education, no real infrastructure. People had no legitimate jobs, so they turned to petty crime to survive. That attracted every kind of scum from across the city. Over time, the gangs organised. Now it’s a full syndicate. Murder, kidnapping, extortion, bang—almost every major crime in the city has a thread leading back here."

Srinu (puzzled, frowning): "If they’re so dangerous, why hasn’t the security officer done anything all these years?"

Sundari (sighing): "It’s not that we didn’t want to. We couldn’t. Politicians ordered us to stay hands-off—minority vote bank. Touch Ranigunj, and they’d scream oppression."

Srinu (disbelief heavy in his voice): "So politicians protected criminals… for votes? That’s disgusting."

Sundari (nodding grimly): "Yes. Power matters more than justice to them. They need those votes."

Srinu: "But the government changed recently. This one promised citizen security, more support for security officer. And they don’t care about the Ranigunj vote bank. They’ve never been shy about cracking down."

Sundari (shaking her head): "We tried—many times. Raids, checkpoints, everything. But every time we entered, the locals—children, women, old men—formed human walls. They protected the gang members, called them their well-wishers, said the syndicate gave them money, food, loans when the government didn’t. They were ready to die for them."

Srinu (frustrated): "So what? security officer have power, weapons. Why not force them out?"

Sundari and Ruhi exchanged a long glance. Sundari looked at Ruhi, who stepped forward.

Ruhi (voice calm but edged with memory): "We did, sir. Full force. Lathi charges, tear gas, even shoot-at-sight orders in extreme cases. But the people didn’t back down. They fought us with stones, acid bulbs, whatever they had. Media went crazy—‘security officer oppressing minorities.’ Left parties, NGOs, protests everywhere. Government came under pressure and ordered us to withdraw."

Srinu muttered under his breath: "Damn these communists… always playing politics even with criminals."

He looked up sharply.

Srinu: "Okay, but how does any of this connect to me and Ganga?"

Sundari (raising a hand): "Be patient. You need the full picture to understand."

Ruhi clicked to new slides: three menacing faces projected large on the screen—long beards, dark complexions, scarred cheeks, cold eyes staring straight at the camera.

Sundari: "The syndicate has three major gangs. Leaders: Mastan, Sonu, and the most dangerous—Killa. They’ve divided the city into zones. Every crime feeds one of them."

Srinu stared at the brutal faces, a chill crawling up his spine.

Sundari: "Their intelligence network is better than ours. Daily labourers, newspaper boys, vegetable vendors, maids, watchmen, construction workers—even beggars—all feed them information. That’s how they stay two steps ahead."

Ruhi changed slides again: grainy mugshots of captured thugs.

Srinu’s breath caught. One face jumped out—Ranga, the thief he had caught hugging Ganga from behind in their own kitchen.

Srinu (quickly): "Can you go back one?"

Ruhi obliged. Srinu stared, confirming. Ranga’s smirk, this was the same guy.

Sundari (noticing): "You recognise him?"

Srinu (snapping back, voice steady): "No… thought I did. Mistake."

He wondered silently why he lied—but something told him to keep that card close for now.

Ruhi moved on. Sundari continued.

Sundari: "From interrogating these criminals, we learned about their headquarters—the Adda. Deep inside Ranigunj. We never got the exact location—just that it’s somewhere in the centre."

The word Adda hit Srinu like a punch. Swati’s voice echoed in his memory: the place Ganga vanished into that day he followed her.

Sundari: "We tried infiltrating—disguised constables, informants. Every time, they were caught, beaten half-dead. We stopped risking our people. Then… your case landed on my desk."

Srinu leaned forward, fully alert.

Srinu: "What does our attack have to do with Ranigunj?"

Sundari: "Javed and Chacha weren’t random thugs. They belonged to Killa’s gang. Usually, victims don’t survive. You two did. That made me think they might return—for loose ends, or something else. So I visited Ganga in hospital. Gave her my number. And when she called—Javed at your house—I knew they wanted something from her."

Srinu’s mind raced: All they wanted was to fuck her. What else?

Sundari: "We decided to use that. Turn Ganga into our eyes inside."

Srinu (cutting in, voice rising): "Use Ganga? You mean… she was working for you?"

Sundari (nodding gravely): "Yes, Srinu. She became our SPY!."

Srinu collapsed back into the chair, the world tilting. Ganga—a spy? His gentle, homemaking wife—walking into that hell for information?

Sundari stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sundari (softly): "Are you okay?"

He stared at the floor, speechless. Sundari nodded to Ruhi, who quickly fetched a glass of water. Ruhi offered it; Srinu took it absently, sipped, and set it down.

His husband’s instinct surged—love, fear, rage.

Srinu (standing suddenly, voice shaking): "How could you? She’s innocent—an ordinary housewife! You sent her to those animals knowing what they did to us?"

Tears welled up, hot with helpless anger.

Sundari and Ruhi exchanged glances. Sundari patted his shoulder gently.

Sundari (calmly): "I understand your anger. But she was never in real danger. We had undercover teams watching her every move."

Srinu (slightly calmer): "So… security officer were always nearby? She could call for help?"

Sundari hesitated, glancing at Ruhi. Ruhi spoke softly.

Ruhi (hesitant): "Actually… we never told Ganga she was being protected."

Srinu exploded again.

Srinu (roaring): "Are you insane? You left her alone with those monsters?"

Sundari (steady): "Please understand—we couldn’t risk it. In past operations, protected informants panicked and revealed escorts under pressure. Missions failed. With Ganga… we used plausible deniability. She thought she was alone. That made her natural, convincing. We monitored everything—home, hospital, Ranigunj visits—without her knowing."

Srinu (pointing, furious): "This is madness! I blamed her, hated her for going to Ranigunj—but it was because of you!"

Sundari (deep breath): "No, Srinu. She went because of you."

Srinu (shouting): "What? Have you lost your mind?"

Ruhi (quickly): "Madam, we promised Ganga—never tell Srinu."

Sundari (firmly): "I know, Ruhi. But he deserves the truth now."

She turned to Srinu.

Sundari: "Ganga agreed to spy… for revenge. For your honour. They put you in hospital, nearly killed you. She wanted them destroyed. She walked into that hell to avenge you."

Srinu fell silent, stunned.

Sundari (softly): "She loves you that much. Like Savitri challenging Yama for her husband’s life—Ganga faced these devils for you."

Ruhi (nodding): "She’s the bravest, most devoted woman I’ve seen—after madam sundari, of course."

Srinu stared, lost. Everything he thought he knew—shattered.

Sundari: "Because of her tips, we killed many criminals in encounters—including Javed and Chacha, which we covered it up as ganga war killings. Now only the Adda raid remains—to catch the leaders red-handed."

Srinu (firmly): "No. It ends now. You will not use Ganga again. Leave her out of this."

Ruhi (protesting): "But madam—we’re so close!"

Sundari (raising hand): "It’s okay, Ruhi. We have enough from past intel to finish this."

She turned to Srinu.

Sundari: "Agreed. Ganga is out."

Srinu (relieved): "Thank you."

Sundari: "No—thank your family. Even today, that old woman and her family on the bench? We helped them because of old tips from Ganga."

Srinu (quietly): "The three women beside me?"

Sundari: "Yes."

Her phone buzzed sharply. She answered briefly, then hung up.

Sundari: "Sorry—I have an urgent meeting. Ruhi will see you out."

Srinu nodded numbly. Ruhi gestured.

Ruhi: "Anything else you need, sir?"

Srinu (dazed): "No… I’m good."

He slung the backpack over his shoulder—diary and FIR heavy inside—and followed Ruhi out through the corridors, past saluting constables, into the harsh sunlight.

He mounted his bike, kick-started it, and rode home, the wind whipping his face, mind spinning with this new information.