Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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“What if I say too much?”
“What if he steps back?”
 
The wanting was mutual, but so was the fear. Fear of vulnerability. Fear of what might follow if the fragile balance tipped. It lingered between them, as tangible as the warmth of their bodies, close, restrained, separated only by the delicate barrier of silence.
 
Ravi cleared his throat. “The breakfast is really good.”
 
She laughed softly, not a sound meant to be heard, but one meant to be felt. A breath of laughter, intimate and contained, like a secret shared with the room itself. It lit her face briefly, making her look effortlessly beautiful, as though joy itself rested easily in her.
 
“You say that every time.”
 
“Because it’s always true.”
 
She looked at him then, fully this time. There was something open in her expression now, not invitation, not refusal.
 
Possibility.
 
“If he reaches,” she thought, “I don’t know if I’ll stop him.”
 
Her eyes softened, and something between them shifted, subtle, almost imperceptible, like the first movement of a tide. Ravi felt it too, struck by how beauty could exist not just in how she looked, but in how carefully she held this moment.
 
“This could be the moment,” he thought. “Or it could be the one we remember because we didn’t.”
 
They finished eating slowly, neither eager to be done, both aware that the end of the meal would break the fragile cocoon they had built around themselves. Their silence felt sacred, something delicate that could fracture if either of them spoke too much or moved too quickly.
 
When they stood, their chairs scbangd softly against the floor. For a moment, they were close enough to fully feel each other’s presence, the space between them dense with everything unsaid, heavy with restraint.
 
Neither reached out.
Neither stepped away.
 
“Say something,” one thought.
“Don’t ruin this,” thought the other.
 
It was awkward.
 
And somehow, sweet.
 
A moment balanced on the edge of choice, held together by care, by restraint, by the quiet understanding that wanting someone does not always mean taking.
 
Priya picked up the plates first, breaking the spell gently. Ravi followed her to the sink, close enough now to sense the warmth of her body beside his, close enough to be aware of her presence in a way that felt almost reverent.
 
“Not yet,” she told herself.
“Soon,” he hoped.
 
As water ran and dishes clinked softly, the morning continued.
 
Unclaimed.
[b]Unresolved.
But undeniably alive.[/b]

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