27-12-2025, 08:14 PM
The Confession She Never Wanted to Make
The phone felt heavier in her hand now.
Not because of its weight, but because of what it had already carried, and what it was about to carry next.
Priya stared at the dark screen for several long seconds after Ravi’s last message, her thumb resting uselessly along the edge.
Her breathing was shallow, uneven, as though her chest had forgotten how to expand fully.
She hated this moment.
She hated that after everything she had said, after every accusation, every truth she had forced herself to confront, there was still something left inside her that refused to stay quiet.
Something that wasn’t anger.
Something that wasn’t guilt.
Something far more dangerous.
Her body shifted slightly beneath the blanket, a restless movement she immediately stilled, terrified Amit might wake. He didn’t. He remained asleep, unaware of the storm unfolding inches away from him.
That awareness made her chest ache.
She should have been done.
She should have put the phone down.
She should have let the silence settle and accepted it as the price of doing the right thing.
But instead, her fingers tightened.
Because the truth, the part she had been avoiding even in her own thoughts, was pressing against her ribs, demanding to be acknowledged.
She unlocked the phone again.
The chat was still open.
Ravi was still there.
Waiting.
And she hated herself for how much that mattered.
Her thoughts spiraled, colliding with one another. This is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. I’m married. He crossed a line. I’m angry. I’m hurt.
And yet…
Her body remembered him.
Not in images. Not in details. But in sensations. In awareness. In the way her skin still felt too sensitive, as though it hadn’t entirely returned to itself. In the way her breath changed when she thought of how close he had been.
She swallowed hard.
This wasn’t desire she had chosen.
It was something that had grown quietly, unnoticed, until it was suddenly impossible to ignore.
She typed before she could stop herself.
Priya:
“There’s something else I need to say.”
The reply came slower this time.
Ravi:
“Okay.”
Just one word.
Careful. Reserved. Almost afraid.
She closed her eyes, her head falling back against the headboard. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure Amit would hear it.
The phone felt heavier in her hand now.
Not because of its weight, but because of what it had already carried, and what it was about to carry next.
Priya stared at the dark screen for several long seconds after Ravi’s last message, her thumb resting uselessly along the edge.
Her breathing was shallow, uneven, as though her chest had forgotten how to expand fully.
She hated this moment.
She hated that after everything she had said, after every accusation, every truth she had forced herself to confront, there was still something left inside her that refused to stay quiet.
Something that wasn’t anger.
Something that wasn’t guilt.
Something far more dangerous.
Her body shifted slightly beneath the blanket, a restless movement she immediately stilled, terrified Amit might wake. He didn’t. He remained asleep, unaware of the storm unfolding inches away from him.
That awareness made her chest ache.
She should have been done.
She should have put the phone down.
She should have let the silence settle and accepted it as the price of doing the right thing.
But instead, her fingers tightened.
Because the truth, the part she had been avoiding even in her own thoughts, was pressing against her ribs, demanding to be acknowledged.
She unlocked the phone again.
The chat was still open.
Ravi was still there.
Waiting.
And she hated herself for how much that mattered.
Her thoughts spiraled, colliding with one another. This is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. I’m married. He crossed a line. I’m angry. I’m hurt.
And yet…
Her body remembered him.
Not in images. Not in details. But in sensations. In awareness. In the way her skin still felt too sensitive, as though it hadn’t entirely returned to itself. In the way her breath changed when she thought of how close he had been.
She swallowed hard.
This wasn’t desire she had chosen.
It was something that had grown quietly, unnoticed, until it was suddenly impossible to ignore.
She typed before she could stop herself.
Priya:
“There’s something else I need to say.”
The reply came slower this time.
Ravi:
“Okay.”
Just one word.
Careful. Reserved. Almost afraid.
She closed her eyes, her head falling back against the headboard. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure Amit would hear it.
.
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