Adultery The Forbidden Relief – My Wife's Secret

[doodhwale_bhaiya]

Kitty Su
 
The club was in full swing—remixed Bollywood beats thumping through the floor, purple lights sweeping across the dance floor, the air thick with perfume, whiskey, and laughter. Their high table near the edge felt like a private island in the chaos. Glasses clinked as the waiter set down the drinks: whiskey neat for Ravi, vodka sodas for the girls, a platter of crispy chilli chicken and garlic bread in the centre.
 
Preeti leaned forward first, her black off-shoulder dress slipping just enough to show more of her deep cleavage as she rested her elbows on the table. She fixed Ravi with a mischievous grin.
 
“Ravi,” she said, voice low enough to cut through the music, “you know that guy at the bar? The one in the grey shirt? He’s been eyeing your wife for the last ten minutes straight.”
 
Ravi followed her gaze—sure enough, a tall man in his late thirties was glancing over, eyes lingering on Simran’s emerald dress where it hugged her curves. Ravi chuckled, shaking his head. “Preeti, you’re trouble.”
 
Preeti laughed, raising her glass. “Relax, I’m joking. He’s probably just wondering how to survive the night without staring too obviously.” She winked at Simran. “But honestly, jaanu, everyone is eyeing you tonight. That dress? Deadly. Don’t worry, Ravi—you’re the lucky one who gets to take her home.”
 
Simran flushed, smiling behind her glass. “Stop it, Preeti. You’re worse than the aunties at family functions.”
 
Shikha leaned in from Ravi’s other side, her crimson dress shifting over her lush hips as she crossed her legs. “She’s right, though,” she said, voice playful. “Even I’m eyeing Simran. That glow? That body? How is it fair?”
 
Preeti reached over and gave Shikha’s arm a light, teasing pat. “Down, girl. She’s taken. And married. And mine to tease first.”
 
Everyone burst out laughing—Ravi’s deep chuckle mixing with the girls’ bright peals, the tension dissolving into easy warmth.
 
Ravi took a sip of whiskey, grinning. “You three together are dangerous. I should’ve known better than to let you all sit at the same table.”
 
Preeti rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please. You love it. Speaking of dangerous… tell me, Ravi, how’s the new client project going? You were complaining last week about the midnight calls again.”
 
Ravi groaned, leaning back. “Don’t remind me. Last Tuesday, the client from Dubai called at 2 AM because he wanted to change the entire dashboard layout. I told him, ‘Sir, it’s 2 AM here.’ He said, ‘Perfect time for creativity.’ I nearly threw my phone out the window.”
 
Shikha laughed, shaking her head. “Classic. Freelance life is bad enough, but at least I can say no. Last month I had a client who wanted a full rebrand in three days. I told him, ‘Sure, but it’ll cost you my sanity and an extra 50%.’ He agreed. Men and deadlines, I swear.”
 
Simran smiled softly, swirling her drink. “You’re all braver than me. My team is still fighting over one Instagram post caption. They debated ‘vibe check’ vs ‘energy check’ for twenty minutes yesterday. I just muted the group and went for a walk.”
 
Preeti snorted. “That’s why you’re the smart one. Let them fight. You just keep looking this good while they argue.”
 
Ravi reached over, squeezing Simran’s hand under the table. “She’s right. You’ve been glowing lately, jaan. Whatever you’re doing… keep doing it.”
 
Simran’s smile faltered for half a second—the memory of the bathroom, the milk, the taste on her tongue—but she covered it quickly, squeezing his hand back. “Just happy, I guess.”
 
Shikha raised her glass again. “To happy. And to nights like this—where we can forget deadlines, clients, and everything else.”
 
They clinked once more, the music swelling around them, the night young and full of unspoken possibilities.