Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

The Weight of Silence and Words
 

The house was silent again.
 
Not the peaceful kind of silence that came with rest, but the thick, oppressive kind that pressed against her ears, her chest, her thoughts. It wrapped itself around her like a second skin, refusing to let her breathe freely.
 
Every sound, every shift of fabric, every slow inhale from beside her, felt amplified in the stillness.
 
Priya lay awake, staring into the darkness.
 
Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to rest. The events of the evening replayed themselves relentlessly, looping in fragments she couldn’t escape.
 
The movie theater.
The drive back.
The closeness that had felt accidental at first… until it hadn’t.
 
Her chest tightened.
 
Earlier, there had been desire, confusing, unwanted, undeniable.
A warmth that had crept into places she didn’t want to acknowledge.
 
But now, that warmth had cooled into something far heavier.
 
Guilt. Shame. Anger.
And something even more frightening: awareness.
 
Tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes, soaking into the pillow before she could stop them. She didn’t bother wiping them away anymore. She was too tired to pretend she was fine.
 
Beside her, Amit slept soundly, his back turned toward her. His breathing was steady, untroubled. The familiar rise and fall of his chest should have comforted her. Instead, it made everything worse.
 
She felt alone even lying next to her husband.
 
Her hand moved almost on its own.
 
She reached for her phone.
 
The screen lit up the darkness with a soft blue glow, cutting through the night like a blade. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked it.
 
She knew exactly who she was going to message.
She had known for hours now.
Maybe longer.
 
Maybe from the moment she’d realized she wouldn’t be able to sleep until something, anything, was said.
 
The chat opened.
 
Ravi.
 
Just seeing his name made her stomach twist.
 
She took a slow, unsteady breath. Her heart pounded as if she were about to cross a line she could never uncross.
 
Because she was. Once she started this conversation, there would be no pretending anymore. No burying it under silence and routine.
 
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
 
Finally, she typed.
 
Priya:
“Ravi, we need to talk.”
 
The reply came almost immediately, as if he had been waiting.
 
Ravi:
“Yes, Didi. I’m here.”

.