Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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Her fingers curled around the phone as if grounding herself.
 
“And I hate that response.”
 
She waited, heart racing.
 
Ravi:
“I feel it too.”
 
Her breath caught.
 
“I shouldn’t,” he continued.
“And I know I crossed a line I had no right to cross.”
 
She could almost hear the weight in his voice.
 
“But I can’t pretend I don’t feel it.”
 
Her chest tightened painfully.
 
Priya:
“That doesn’t make what you did okay.”
 
Ravi:
“I know.”
 
The simplicity of the response undid her more than any apology could have.
 
Priya:
“You shouldn’t have taken advantage of my silence.”
 
Ravi:
“You’re right.”
 
Priya:
“You shouldn’t have pushed when I was already confused.”
 
Ravi:
“I shouldn’t have.”
 
Each acknowledgment landed like a quiet blow.
 
And yet…
 
Neither of them pulled away.
 
Priya:
“And still… here we are.”
 
Her eyes drifted to Amit again, guilt slicing through her chest so sharply she had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing.
 
“I lie next to my husband, Ravi.”
“And my body is thinking about you.”
 
The words tasted bitter.
 
“Do you know how much I hate myself for that?”
 
Ravi:
“I don’t want to be the reason you hate yourself.”
 
Her laugh was soft, broken.
 
Priya:
“You already are.”
 
She wiped at her face quickly, breathing uneven.
 
“I feel pulled in two directions.”
“Duty on one side.”
“Desire on the other.”
 
Her fingers trembled.
 
“And I don’t know which one is going to tear me apart first.”
 
The pause that followed was heavy but not empty.
 
Ravi:
“I never wanted to be something that hurt you.”
 
Priya:
“But you are.”
 
She swallowed.
 
“And so am I.”
 
Her chest felt tight, constricted, as though the truth itself was suffocating her.
 
“I don’t want to want you.”
“I don’t want to need you.”
“I don’t want my body to crave something my life cannot afford.”
 
Her eyes closed, tears slipping freely now.
 
“But it does.”
 
There it was.
 
Bare. Unfiltered.
 
The truth she had been running from.
 
Ravi:
“I wish I could take that away from you.”
 
Priya:
“I wish you had never awakened it.”
 
The words weren’t cruel. They were exhausted.
 
She stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding painfully.
 
“I hate this situation.”
 
Her fingers moved slowly now, as if weighed down by the gravity of her own admission.
 
“I hate that I’m here.”
“I hate that I feel this way.”
“And I hate that I don’t know what to do next.”
 
She let the phone rest against her chest, her breathing shallow.
 
“I don’t know how to move forward without hurting someone.”
“And I don’t know how to stay where I am without hurting myself.”
 
The screen glowed softly in the darkness.
 
Her life, her marriage, her choices, her identity, felt suddenly fragile, like glass stretched too thin.
 
She hated the confusion.
 
She hated the desire.
 
She hated the silence pressing in around her.
 
And most of all…
 
She hated that she didn’t know which part of herself she was supposed to listen to anymore.
 
The phone vibrated once more, but she didn’t look at it right away.
 
Because for the first time, she wasn’t sure there was an answer that wouldn’t cost her something she couldn’t get back.
 
And in that unbearable uncertainty, Priya lay awake, trapped between what was right and what was real, hating the situation she was in, and utterly unsure of what to do next.

-- oOo --

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